Clinch Valley news. [volume] (Jeffersonville, Va.) 18??-2019, 1890-01-17
THE BRIDES ROSES.

, 1hls grand and ancient temple, which
was built in the far. gone days of the
old British regime in America, stands
amid the low-lying hills that encirclc
the swift flowing Rappahannock, with
the spires of Frcdericks burg shining in
the distance, and the everlasting pines,
for which Virginia is so noted, standing
IN thick files on either hand.
Centuries upon centuries have cx.
ended their storms upon the massive
walls, and yet they stand, mute bu.
most eloquent monuments of the
strength and durability of old time
architecture.
One can even yet discover some traces
OF the old altar s tone; and the tablets
whcrcon the names Of the dead and
gone vestrymen are recorded, and the
pew once occupied by Washington and
his relatives is still rcvcrcntly pointed
out to every sight-secr who turns out Of
the beaten thOroughfarc of travel TO
lave look at III IS sacrcl and venerable
pile.
'But the BRIDES rose, have you seen
thatF questioned the guide MS We were
making our way out over the crumblinr
heaps of mortar
"The bridc'srose2 Why no, what is
itf"
Our guide was woman-a gray and
gaunt old creature, who lives in little
hut near ut hand and earns an honest
penny now and then by showing travel
ers over the ruins Of old Potomac
Church.
Sho turned back on tho instant,
shaking her gray head slowly from side
to side.
"Ah, you must see the brides rosc,r
she said; "comc alongV
We followed her back over heaps Of
debris, under the crumbling arches o +
the old English tenn ple-ba,s and ghost
moths hurIling in our very eyes, and
the hush Of the falling twilight ali
about lis. Through the main aisle, out
at the great archcd door, down the fall
en- steps into little court yard.
The old woman stopped down and
parted the rank, luxuriant growth that
covered the ruins at our feet.
"Iherc il is, +" she said; ".ookr'
We stooped down, and looking
closely, saw amid the rank grass great
cluster of scarlet roses. The shrub
upon which they b!oomcd seemed to be
small and stuntcd in its rowth; but the
flowers were marvel of perfect love IL
ness-so large, so fine, so delicate in
tint and texture, more like the cult
waited bloom OF hot house than the
wild growth Of the fields.
stop! You wouldn't touch emf"
cried the old woman in utter horror, as
we put out our hand to pull one Of the
perfect flowers. Don't, for PHYS
sake! 1t is the brides rose, red with
blood; and presently the bride herself
will come, IS is her wont every night,
and gather them, and every morning
they bloom again afresh. Don't touch
emp
We drew back with an involuntary
shudder, and the old woman rose to her
feet, letting the rank grasses close
around the blood-red blossoms.
Come" she said, in sort of awed
whisper, you've seen the roses; let S
be going. The dark will be upon us
and the bride walks at dark We
muslin be here when she comes! Hark
that's hervoice nowl Don't you hear
She always comes singing, SO that hei
lover may know when to meet her.
Don't you hear2'
With her skeleton finger uplifted ant
her hollow geze fixed on mine, the old
creature stood and listened. A faint
sweet muimur that might have been tn,
, echo OF distant song, or the pulsing O
the summer air, thrilled the twilight ST
lence.
"Don't You he arr" she cried, in ter
ror. Come awayr'
And, half in awe mysef, as l locke,
back at the gray uins, over which thu
summer darkness was falling, fol
lowed her across the green copse
/ through the moaning pine ridges ane
up the low doorway of her little hut
There was light within, and we coul,
see her daughter busy preparing on
evening meal.
The old woman sat down upon til,
stone sill, and wiped the pers piratiol