St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1891-08-31
The BLUE ROSE.

wasn't allus easy to live With-an' that
set on the truth, an that pertickler-
well, if 1t 'adn't bin for i'm bein' that
pertickler, you gels would lad a red
JARED woman to your granny instead O.
me-"
A smile went round the tea table;
Mrs. Minver'S grandchildren nodded,
and looked at me-you know the look
when there's story in the air and
you're expected to ask for it. But |
was TOO shy. 1t was my first visit to
Myrtle cottage. Lottie Minver and
were both serving our time with Miss
Ellends (Modes ct Robes, and | was
only sixteen then.
"A red-'alred woman" Mrs. Minver
went on, IAN that would a. been pity
on all accounts, for e was fine man as
ever see. an me bein' no slip of a chit
lis sons all measured over their six
foot-an' all been measured, too"
She sighed, and looked out through
! the open door at the narraW strip of
back garden, where scarlet runners and
stocks and reluctant sunfowerS had
| been coaXed to grow. We were having
tea in the kitchen. The table was COW
cred with brown oilcloth. The cups
were white, with mauve spots. We had
crosses for tea, and wrinkles, because it
was Sunday.
IA fine man e was, to be sure" she
went on. THAT'S lis portrait as 'angS
to the right O. the parlor chimley piece.
| Just over the crOckery lamb yer Aunt
| Eliza give to me the very last fair day
| afore the Lord took Ter. A fine figure
| of a man e was, my dears, an much
sought after, but mighty pertickler. An
| so e married me-"
Mrs. MinVer smOothed her black alpaca
apron cOmplacently.
WHAT was it about the red-haired
young lady?" l asked.
An that's a tale, an it just shows
'ow careful CELL should be when she's
courtin'."
This sounded interesting.
"Do tell US the tale," l urged.
sob! it's nothin' much to tell" said
Mrs. Minver, but she settled herself
against the cushions of her Windsor
chair and Stroked her left mitten with
her right hand i'll way that promised.
"Come, granny. tell Lily about the
| blue roses"
"'Old yer tongue then. till can get
a word in hedgeways! Blue roses in
deed! SpoilIn' story afore its begun!
| Well, you must know, young lady, as L
was brought up i'll the country -
regular Kentish apple l was, my man
usetei say. Our home was in Kent,
down among the cherry orchards. We
| lad nice little orchard Oursels, an
our 'ouse it was a wooden 'ouse, all
! builtso' boards like, not bricks like you
| see lem 'ere. An there was a big
pear tree, as went all up one side
| of the 'ouse - one branch right
and one left-even like, for all the world
like ladder. We useter pick the pears
| outer our bed room Winder. ME and my
counsin Hetty did. Jargonels they was
an sight Sweeter than any as goes to
market nowadays.
''Our garden Wasn'tmuch of a one for
size, but for flOwers-there! 1t was
perfect moral-cram full it waS-all
| sorts-pinks an pansies an lilies. roses,
| iaSSermine. an sweet WillieS, an wall
! flowers an daflies and spring flowers,
which is my favoriteS outer all the
| flowers"
"What are spring fOwers?"
"They're a regular Old-faShioned flow
er-gelS used alluS to have 'em in their
gardens long afOre you was thought of,
| nor me neither. Like wallflowerS they
| be, summat, only pink and weller, an
only one on stalk, an soft like velvet.
an smelling like honey they did. L
| haven't seen none o. them since | come
| to live in BermOndSey.
"Well, our little wooden 'ouse it stood
on the hill, an as you come up, whether
twas by the road, as was white an
Windin', or whether twas by the shorter
way through the medders an the hop
| garden, the first you see OF our 'ouse
was the white rose tree. 1t clOmb all
over the side of the 'ouse-not the side
where the pear tree was, but the other
there was no windows that SIDE the
house-and the rose clomb all alOng-and
blow it did blow, that rose did. Pearl
white the roses was, or what you might
call blush-pink, and hundreds Of 'em. 1t
was quite picter. Well, one fine sum-
mer, every rose as come on that tree
wasn't white nor bush-pink any more,
! but blue-a darkish blue at the edges
and paler to the middles. Not pretty?
Well, p'raps not; but l tell you there
! never was such a fuss made over any
rose as you'd call pretty as there was
over that blue rose. ParSon, he was al
ways comm down to see it, an bringln'
his friends, from London sometimes;
an the gentry, they drove in their car
riages to see our blue rose; an the
| tradesmen an grocerS they come III
said, well, it was novelty
"An' they said it would surely take
the prize at the flower show. But it
was Hetty's rosebud. Father ID give it
| her when she first came to live with us.
! She come quite little, and she cried at
| the strange place, an all she took to was
the white roses. So father he give her
the bush-an' next year father e died,
about cherry time it was.
$50 when they said that about the
prize, Hetty said she didn't care about
prizes an flower shows an things. 1t
was quite enough to AVE such a rose
tree for Ter own.
s'The next year the roses come blue
again, an every one come moIe'n ever
to look, an the grocers an people with
carts they come from far an near, for
they said it was novelty.
but mother, she was rather quiet
like, an she didn't say much about the
roses; an one day when she an me was
maxim up the Dread-juSt our two
! selves, in the back kitchen-she says to
me
"'Addie." she says (myname is AIDE
| laide) ''abOut them blue roses now. If
it wasn't that l don't like to think O. a
child o. mine bein' up to such tricks, |
should say as you or Hetty had been a.
borrowed o. my blue bag"
"tYour blue bag, motherp says 1.
Hard work l had to keep my face, for
HettY she was a maxim faces at me
| through the winder.
Ives. my blue bag" mother says,
lookin' at me very straight.
"'Why, AUNT, 'says Hetty through the
window, ''if 1t was the blue-bag, how
would all the roses be the same? AM
wouldn't it all wash off in the rain? AM
you know it's always brighter after "a
| shower" she says. Besides, would we
do such silly thing if we could. an
keep it up so, an all? We might do it
onst or twice." says she.
"sThere's summat In all that. says my
mother, gong on with the bread. II
misdoubt me it's age turns the roses
blue, like it turns folks hair white.
| The rose was allus pearly white. or
what you might call a bluSh-pink
| afore."
4 Al s..onaro o,,g vooo111a with napta