Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1889-06-06
A SPRAY OF GOLDEN ROD.
BY KATE sEAFOAM.


able day in the close, sitting atmos-
phere of the dingy Office of Brown &
CO., where l had toiled all the long
hours over the seemingly intcrminable
figures. RECALLED by the coarse profanity
and odious smelling tobacco OF some Of
their rudest customers, who usually
came on the most uncomfortable days.
Pure air and freedom from heat and
the distracting turmoil of the city,
was the cry of my soul as | hurried
through the throngcd streets TO my
boarding place.
1t was an attic. side room, the place
now called home, where innumcrablc
cats of all sizes and more diversity OF
hue than believed the species capable
of, made the sultry nights hideous, and
gave one time TO muse, through the
wakeful hours, upon the general de-
pravity of bOyhooJ. and, alas brought
also a strong desire TO repeat some OF
its diabolical acts, such as attaching
certain appendagos together with
clothespiu, as they squalled and howl
ed in dismal chorus in the dreary
back yard beneath the one window of
my humble apartment, as yet all that
my limited means could afford.
But that attic room, although APP
pearing some nights as hot Us a crcma-
tory need be, was made as attractive
by scrupulous neatness, flowers, and
all home-like comforts, as my pleasant
! landlady, a very comely little woman,
could make IL
And tonight, as l YEARLY crossed
the small space to my dressing case,
the fast fading daylight revealed an
addition TO its accessories, a tiny cut
glass vase with just one spray of plumy
golden rod in it, swaying gently in the
! faint breeze which had come with the
evening shade.
stood quite still looking down at 1t.
as memories crowded upon me thick
and fast. Nearly overcome by a pecul-
! lar weakness, | sat down and mechan-
! ically took the flower from the vase,
and was holding it, looking blankly at
/ it, although | had answered the rap at
my door. when my landlady stood be-
! fore me with a small tray of iced lem
Onade with the remark that IL was SO
warm perhaps it might be acceptable
after my long walk, and then
"Ah, you do like the golden rod! l
was somehow quite sure you would,
although Stella laughed at me for talk
! ing it up here. We were out in the
suburbs, quite in the country, to-day.
and it was all in bloom, "plumy and
golden" think will presume upon
your goodness in liking it, as said you
would and bring you little poem to
read"
After thanking her for the many
favors done me, the little lady left me
alone again with the plumy golden rod,
and pair of soft brown eyes looking
up into mine, and q sweet, low voice
saying:
"And now, dear Dick, whenever You
see the golden rod, even il you are far
away or l am dead, think OF me, be-
! lieve me ever tender and true, rs the
one in the sweet song you have sung
for me-" and she placed in my hand
the golden rod had asked for, which
she had worn in her corsage.
Tender and true!' Ere three months
| had passed | had found her false and
heartless. With q bitter sneer placed
the flower in the vase again, but with
a strange fascination watched il as IL
gently stirred, just as | had seen it
sway to each pulsation Of her heart
And looking within my own hearth
Since brown eyes had once taken my
whole soul captive, | could not quite
yield ITO the thraldom Of the most be-
witching blue ones | had ever looked
! into, and yet. alas, for the frailty and
vanity of the human heart Many
times, even through this day of eX-
IRENE discomfort. when the persistent
realization of ones wretched self was
so predominant, the soft voice in its
alluring flattery had sounded its re-
frain in my heart. the tempting blue
eyes had smiled at me from the ledger
pa ges, and | had ycarned for the antic-
ipated bliss of the evening, an hour in
the society OF my enchantress.
Should a spray of golden rod, the
memory of false love, debar mo fro m
such pleasure? And yet whittier
was il tending? Could life be complete
in its fruition. or would it bring that
most bitter OF unrest, an unsatsfed
heart? As il in answer, us / fastened
TO make my toilet, my mothers words,
the last time / ever held her dear hand
in mine, repeated themselves, as they
had many times during the past month
i TO me.
"Under all circumstances, in all
] places. be true TO yourself, TO your
own nature in its purity, its most ten
der emotions. my dear boy. for, with
your sensitive temperament and strong
personality, you can neither be happy
yourself nor MAKO gnother happy by
its denial or perversion. strive as hard
as you may, IL will be felt, assert
Itself" Beneath this, as il seemed TO
me, warning influence, / sat down
again TO thiES IS out and watch the
nodding goldSl rod.
! 'Aud we think ourselves quite fortu-