Herald and news. [volume] (West Randolph, Vt.) 1878-1943, 1889-04-18

Parson Allen came down the billy road
in his chaise, followed by the Berkshire
militia, on the way to the battle of Ben
nington, and the bush bore then the
same pale-pink roses that were ON it last
summer.
A letter, still preserved, describing the
march, saws that as they reached the
foot of the hill, "sinister-looking wo-
man" came out of her house to watch,
and then picked rose from the bush by
her door, and gave 1t to a young fellow
in the ranks.
1t was all Mistress Simpson could give,
except a prayer the next day, as the
boom of cannon came down from the
northern hills. No one knows what be-
came of the farmer lad who stuck the
rose in his coat, but let us hope that he
fought better for it, and that he came
back. No one knows, either. about
Mistress Simpson, except few persons
who like to search the ancient town re
cords, and have learned there that she
was born in Colchester, in Connecticut.
That must be the reason why the old
man, who now owns the pasture where
.tbe rosebush is, says that it used to be
lliC AOtGlltSNtl II U1OOult0
all summer, he says, and people used to
think there was no rose hike it; but that
was long ago. and hardly any one passes
over the road now.
Mistress Simpsons house has gone.
In its place a great oak has grown, from
which the red living blackbirds watch
their mates nesting in the reeds around
the pond below. Behind the oak the
pastures stretch away, blotched with
clumps of fern, and, weeks before the
brief New England summer closes, turn
ing yellow with golden-rod. 1t is
lonely, beautiful spot, and Miss Rexory
Adams likes to go there ON summer
afternoons.
For those who know its history the
low, struggling rosebush, just out of the
shade of the oak, gives an added charm
to the place, redeeming something of
the loneliness by its touch of human
interest. 1t tells of woman who lived
here once, and loved the shrub she had
brought from her old home, never
dreaming that it would be poisoning
hundred years after she was dead.
Rexory Adams knows about Mistress
Simpson, and that is why one of her
favorite walks is out to the oak 1t is
only three-quarters of q mile from her
mothers house, and the private school,
which the mother and daughter keep
open during July and August for chill
dren of summer visitors, closes its ses-
sions at twelve, so that the afternoon is
all her own.
Under the oak how quickly the petty
troubles pass away Everything is cool
and restful: even the blackbirds are
quiet after July is over, and yonder is
the Colchester rose, patiently budding
whether people care about 1t or not. I
Rexory has wondered many time what
became of the young soldier. Did the 1
laughter OF the other farmer boys make /
him toss the rose away after little Or
did he wear the withered thing into the /
fight, and perhaps stain its petals with
o deeper red
But Rexory keeps her fancies, for the /
most part, to herself. Her mother is a
dear, practical woman, who has man
aged to feed and clothe herself, Tom
and Rexory for a dozen years. Mrs. I
Adams likes house plants better than .
wild flowers, and is always afraid Of
Rexory's catching cold when the giIl
goes on long walks. But she Is secretly I
proud of her daughter.
A year ago last July, Rexory was
seated under the oak one afternoon with 4
q letter in her hand, and some amuse- !