Audubon County Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Audubon Co., Iowa) 1885-1894, 1889-05-23
A SPRAY OF GOLDEN ROD.
BY KATE SEAFOAM.


phere of the dingy Office of Brown &
Co., where had toiled all the long
hours over the seemingly interminable
figures, RECALLED by the coarse profanity
and odious smelling tobacco OF some OF
sheir 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 l hurried
through the thronged streets to my
boarding place.
1t was an attic, side room. the place
now called home, where innumerable
cats of all sizes and more diversity of
nue. 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 boyhood, and, alas, brought
also a strong desire to repeat some of
ITS diabolical acts, such as attaching
certain appendages together with a
clothespin, as they squalled and howl
ell in a dismal chorus In the dreary
back yard beneath the one WINDOW OF
my humble apartment, as yet all that
lay limited means could afford.
But that attic room, although ap-
gearing some nights as hot as q crema-
tory need be, was made as attractive
by scrupulous neatness, flowers, and
all home-like comforts, as my pleas ant
iandlady, very comedy little woman,
could make it.
And tonight, as I YEARLY crossed
the small space to my dressing case,
the fast fading daylight revealed an
addition to its accessories, 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 pecul-
lar weakness, l 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-
Tore me with small tray of iced lem
warm perhaps it might be acceptable
after my long walk, and then
"Ah, you do like the golden rod!
was somehow quite sure you would,
although Stella laughed at me for TAX
ing it up here. We were out in the
suburbs, quite in the country, to-day,
and 1t was all in bloom, '.plumy and
golden" think l will presume upon
your goodness in liking it, as said you
would and bring you a 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 u sweet, low voice
saying:
= '.And now, dear Dick, whenever you
see the golden rod, even if you are far
away or l am dead, think OF me, be-
heve me ever tender and true, as the
one in the sweet song you have sung
for me-" and she placed in my hand
the golden rod 1 had asked for, which
she had worn in her corsage.
Tender and true!" Ere three months
had passed shad found her false and
heartless. With a bitter sneer | placed
the flower in the vase again, but with
a strange fascination watched it as it
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 l 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
pages, and l had yearned for the antic-
lpated bliss OF the evening, an hour in
the society OF my enchantress.
Should spray of golden rod, the
memory OF false love, debar me fro m
such pleasure? And yet, whittier
was it tendingP Could life be complete
in its fruition, or would it bring that
most bitter of unrest, an unsatisfied
hearth AS if in answer, as ! 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
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 make another happy by
its denial or perversion, strive as hard
as you may, it will be felt, assert
itself" Beneath this, as il seemed to
me, warning influence, / sat down
again to think it out and watch the
: nodding golden rod.
"And we think ourselves quite fortu-
nate in having met her, she is so sweet
and graceful, quite like a soft rhythm
herself in her motions, and so earnest
and true. She has such lovely brown
eyes, with, as Stella said, such a sad
story in them. Her name is Annie
Martyr and she is visiting for few
days with friend OF mine at Revere.
She is really so lovely, and ! do like
her poems so well. But, there, how
do run on! You will think ne quite
silly for an old woman said my land
lady. as she, gave me, the poem with
the sweet poem in II.
To me ] now fully realize there
never could be but one Annie, and vet
there was many by that name and
might be many Annie Martyrs. Yet,
somehow, II was the one Annie out
from the whole wide world who had,
In spirit, spoken TO me that night, and
stayed the mad. unsatisfyirg infatua-
ton. the alluring influence swaying
me.
Well. l needed one days respite
from the almost ceaseless toll OF years,
and as we'll go 10 Revere as anywhere,
could rest there and ! might see her
again.
II cannot quite agree with you there,
Mrs. Merrill, ! think II we once" and
then others passing between the rest
Of the sentence the speakers voice, my
Annies voice. soft and sweet as ever,