Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1901-09-05
THE PERFUME
| OF ROSES
BY VIRGINIA DARE.

y
moves the wrapper and finds box.
damp, as though water soaked. Rails
ing the Id. he looks down. not upon a
book but flowers glowing, fragrant
roses. pink, crimson ard white-lying
in a nest Of green leaves, their petals
wet ana shining as with dew; old fash
toned roses, too, not the rare product
Of scientific culture, but the simple
blossoms Of village gardens. The state
~ pink thousand leaf. the ruby sheen
Of damask rose the crimson glow Of
cabbage rose and the velvet petals of
a white "bride"-all were there.
From his grave eyes, grown weary in
looking at sooty walls and smoke cloud
ed skies, the shadows steal away, and
into them creeps a tender light, over
them a mist falls, which Is almost
tears.
lis such n weary while since he
has looked on such as these. Boyhood
and youth in these days Of strenuous
life seem far away. lie buries his face
in the roses and-dreams As he dreams
the gates Of memory swing open wide.
once more he sees the little river rip
ping along between its willow lined
banks. He hears the whir Of the old
mill wheel as Il turns and turns. and
the hills look like high green walls,
sweeping UP and back from the village
and river. II IS evening. The sunset
light CLEANS redly on the rivers breast.
Down the long street, driven by tow
headed urchin. come some sleek bodied
cows. going To- pasture, their bells tin
king gently as they move.
Through the thick foliage he catches
a glimpse Of white walls His heart
throbs fast. Within their shelter she
dweIls she whom his heart holds dear
Beside him a low whitewashed fence
runs. At the gate he pauscs. lie push
IS II gently. It opens, and before him
lies n graveied path bordered with dear
old time flowers close by the walk The
rich. spicy fragrance of Glove and Gin
namon pinks assaults the nostrils Far
Their in are blue larkspurs. the graceful
sweep Of princes feather, with the gold
Of bachelor buttons and purple column
bine, with folded wrapper where tur-
tie doves dwell" marigolds and clear
faced johnny jump ups aud amorous
sweet wiiiiams-a reyel Of color every
where And beyond the flowers an
orchard Of apple trees with squat.
gnarled trunks. branches low hanging
and laden W b promise of fruit in the
autun u.
In the orchards midst Is low ram
bling house, with its encircling porch
and wide swinging easement Behind
the house are a vegetable garden and
spacious harns-a picture Of plenty.
Clinging 10 the walls and crawling over
porch roof. peering into windows. IS
climbing rose. hanging weary with its
weight Of beauty And at every cor
ner roses-the modest sweet bricr and
all the DID beauties. Here by his hand
stands the queen Of them ala rare
white moss rose white as snow. II faint
pink tint its fragrant heart. lie al
ways thinks OF her when he looks At
these roses. She IS like the flower in
her purity and loneliness Under the
caves lv the door lie waits and listens,
then knocks gently. His heart leaps at
a gentle step and he thinks
She q coming. nv love, my sweet.
With ever So airy 4 tread
NJ heart 'siu awaken and beat
has il lain fer a ceatury dead?
In the wide doorway she stands. So
silently size moves. he scarce knew her
there. In her dear eyes SO true, so
sweet. there Is a gladness which tells
him his welcome-the welcome her lips
are too shy 70 utter.
In her dark hair shine the veivety
petals of a white moss rose. in one deli
cate hand she holds another: just as
In his heart and life he holds her-his
rose maiden.
The shadows of twilight lnfold them.
Above them one by one the stars peep
out. Across the river In tile wood a
wEippoorwll calls plaintlvcly. a clat-
Ter il Wheels AMI hoof beats IN the
street-then silence.
They are 50 happy there in the old
porch III tile fragrant night. BY and
by he asks her To sing He loves 70
bear Der sing Her voice is sweet and
clear Ike lark. notes
She sings 'Lorena." and lie wonders
WHY she chose 50 sad a song He
Atttttir 4A tf ttA n 80 - az MUM AAAN kAAt~
derby 81 clasped her hand through that
last verse. Her voice trembled. too, as
She sang.
There Is fa,ure. 81. tlark Codl
90 tts th.- 3 se sHa|} B e.lt.
III, ju.t IL Gust beneath Use sa3
bgt ta,re-uT ttere-'t.s haars e. heart
How clearly he can hear her voice
now ard the pathetic words. How soon
i all ended ana chaa,ed lie for him.
Il IS iuue here II THE great hot city but
away up there among the hills Ut New
Eueiaad tile little river is ripping aud
singing on It's WHY Il the sea. The air
is perfumed frem myrIads Of blossoms.
H. sees the old graveyard behind the
liit!e church There tile grasses sway
ana bond gently IN tile summer winds.
Tie bees are cumming drowsily. and
over fair white cross. Which marks
harrow grave, "A white moss rose bows