The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1880-10-28
MYRTLE,s BOUQUETS.

| Myrtle sat In the back porch beside
long low table. upon which quan-
tity Of freshly -cut flowers was heaped
in picturesque confusion. She tossed
them over, lightly humming tune as
she selected and arranged them in
into the city for sale in her brothers
stationery store. 1t is lovely,
dcwy June morning, and the sun
has not been above the horizon
much more than half an hour. But
Myrtle is up betimes, arrayed in a
fresh cambric dress and broad -brim-
med hat, that she may get her flowers
all arranged before her brother goes
into thescity in the Z 80 train.
A robin alighted OH the great,
broad-spreading willow before the
back door, and thrilled sweet matin
song melodiously. Everything was
SO fresh and lovely outside, rs Myrtle's
eyes wandered through the door now
and then that she thought with pity
OF the dcnizcns of the city in their inn
pure, dusty atmosphere, and wondered
who of them were to enjoy her flow
crs. 81 wish everyone could live i'll
the country in summer she said
aloud. 'The summer, the summer!
The exquisite tffffe of the red roses
blush and the .nightingale's chime"
| A cunning little device was stealing
along Myrtle's brain. 1T would be
nice to write some lines OF poetry and
hide them i'll these bouquets; some
thing about nature, or, perhaps, some
thing sentimental. Gentlemen often
send little notes to their Loves in
bouquets. Pll write mething and
establish sort of friendship between
tho unknown ones who buy them and
myself"
She flew lightly up stairs to her
| room, got some paper and ink from
her writing desk and carried them
down into the porch. "Let me see,"
she thought, commencing her last bou-
quet; IL want one to be about flowers.
| Ah! 1 have it!~and she laid down
the white rose and the sprig OF myrtle
she hed ID, seized her pen and wrote:
'Look what light of flowers is on the earth
AS if the proud. voluptious blood of June
Blushed out in roses"
sThat's a pretty little quotation,"
she thought, as she folded the tiny bit
OF paper and put it i'll one of the bou-
ouets. Then some sweet lines of Lo-
we'll came to her mind. She copied
them and hid them in another. '.Now
must think OF something sentiment
tal," she said, resuming her last bou-
Quet. Her fingers moved swiftly,
while her thoughts ran lightly over
the poetry with which her brain was
stored. When she was half done with
it she laid it down and wrote half
dozen lines or SO of sentiment that Oc-
CURED to her.
"There!" she thought, as she tied up
her last bouquet and put tho note in
side, 81 wonder who will get hold OF
it. I hope it won't he some cross,
prosaic creature, who don't care for
anything but money -naking." She
placed the flowers in a basket, which
her brother, after eating his breakfast,
took and hurried to the depot. Ana
Myrtle, who was a pretty, brOwn-eyed,
intelligent girl of eighteen, with pink
and-white complexion, and sweet,
rosy lips, went about her duties that
day. smiling TO herself now and then,
as she wondered who would read the
little scraps OF poetry.
A pleasant, well-kcpt private board
ing-housc in the city, with sprink-
ling Of both sexes making their home
there. The most important parsonage
seemingly, was rich bachelor of for
ty-fivc, Mr.. Hathaway, who caused
considerable fluttering ofhearts among
the ladies of the house, for he was
well-kept and handsome and very
agreeable when he chose to be SO,
though quite peculiar in his ideas.
He was at present confined to his
room, coIvalcscing from all attack of
slow fever, during which the ladies
have We'd with each other i'll show
ing him attentions. He had a secret
preference for an attractive widow,
Mrs. Clifford, who was looked upon !
with rather jealous eyes by the girls
in the house, as all the gentlemen |
seemed more or less smitten with her. |
She was out that morning on little
shopping expedition, and stepped into |
Marsh's to replenish her note paper. |
While the youth who waited upon her |
tied up her parcel she observed the |
fresh bouquets ranged Oh the showcase !
temptingly, with the sweetness and |
brightness of the country air and sun |
light which they had assimilated,
ccntered in their glowing, fragrant
hearts. ''I'll buy one for Mr.. Hatha-
way,' she thought, on the impulse of |
the moment. The youth wrapped it
i'll white paper, telling her it came |
fresh from the country that morning,
and she, preterring to carry instead OF |
having it sent, walked out with 1t, |
sllaltcu CdTcAulIy 1Tolil thC ouh upoOA |
her parasol.
Mr.. Hathaway, reclining languidly |
on a lounge, with an illustrated mag
azine open before him, which he was
not reading, said "come ill.," i'll answer |
to light rap at the door, and felt a |
sense of relief in the monotOny when
Mrs. Clifford, in cool muslin dress,
and with bright, flushed face, OPEN |
ed it., with the bouquet i'll her hand. |
81 thought would bring you this to
cheer you," she said "they are no
forced, artificial, hothouse introduce
tiOns, but came fresh from the cOun- |
try this morning, the boy said" He |
thanked her, while she took vase |
from the mantel and, filling it with
fresh water, placed the flowers i'll it
and set it within his reach, where he |
could inlmle their fragrance. lie |
asked her to sit down while and
talk to him, which she did, leaving |
him, however, at the end of fifteen
minutes OH n plea of some duty that
called her.
81 wish she had staid longer" he |
thought, rs the door closed after her. !
81 believe am half i'll love with her. |
1 wonder if she would OBJECT to being |
Mrs. Hathaway? She has an inditfer
ent, independent way that l like. Still,
l think she could be won. 1t strikes
me that if am ever going to marry, |
it is time i was about it, and this sick
ness has taught me how much women
are worth"
Thinking thus he drew the bou-
uuet towards him and examined the !
sweet, frail creations with interest |
and tried to recall his botanical |
knowledge in which he found he had
grown rather rusty. "Ha! what's |
this?" he thought, us he espled the |
tiny folded paper, hidden under a
full blown red rose and spray of star
ry forget-me-nOts. He untolded it |
and satirical smile curved his lip |
under his brown mustache as he read
Iwould be thine
To lose all selfish feeling,
} In the sole thought of the far dearer one