Year: 1876

Others may come after hlm-OtheIs usua'y
do come after him, for seldom is i; that eiFl
marries her first loye-but to none does she
ever attach that strange interest, sacred with
never expressed words, which attaches TO her
( first sweetheart. Her memory of him is IKE
the faint. delicate perfume which still clings
about that first wild rose of summer that he
! gave her during the first tete-a-tete walk that
they ever took together in the woods. How
well she remembers it oil 1t was the hrst
summer after she left school 1t was little
out.of.tLe-way summer resort where she was
staying with party Of friends, where he
chanced to come, too, and after meeting her,
fingered.


! She was a little futtered to find herself
walking alone with hin, quite by acci-
dent, of course; both tried to keep up lively
and natural conversation, and, as conse-
quence, it was perfectly absurd. somewhat
constrained and altogether fragmentary.
/ Then he saw this rose, the oaly one upon
bushful of buds that grew close to the moss
grown trunk Of fallen tree just over the
source Of tiny stream Of water that wound,
like tangled thread, in and on. among the
trees. He gathered and gave it to her with
half-shy, haitian. ching look-so transparently
conscious ia its endeavor to be unconscious f;
aud with remark intended to be sprishiy.
| Aud she took it. between blush and a
smile, with swift up-look from her eyes that
were busily playing hide-and-seek under the
becoming shelter Of long lashes


She tucked it in a, the waistband OF her
dress just as she would have done any other
rose


He does not know-ho never will know
that as soon as she vas alone in her room, with
the door locked, she drew it carefully from
ber belt and kissed Il daintily. though. with
represscd passion, before she exalted it to the
position Of honor in her pet vase Of pretty
china. lust big enough to hold This one flower
fty. aud in honor Of it filled' carefully with
cool water by her own pretty fresh fingers, as
lily tipped as those Of Aurora in the act OF
drawing the curtains Of the dawn.


What was the Unspoken compact between
them that caused her, standing before her glass
10 her simple white dress that evening to pose
her flower shyly along the Furnished waves Of
her hair?


viii she ever forget how his eyes thanked
her viii she ever forget the night on which
she wore it? Was there ever another night
like tbat2 Will there ever be again?


For her, no. For every girl who has to
meet her first love, yes. There will be just
one such for each girl, but never another.


Was it the earth she ,rod on How beau
tful everything was As if the world was
Just now-made! The music, the gay chatter
bright smiles, ringing laughtcrl And when
she danced with him Sue seemed 10 have wings
to her feet. Then at last they were alone to-
go;ber in the cool fragrant, dewy darkness
outside; and to be together, TO be arm -in-arm
10 hear each others voices, that was all they
cared for. There was DO other world for them
that night They were separated from our
common earth by such swif,-lowing tide Of
deep but unspoken delight. Unspoken, be-
cause young affection is too sacred for words
First love is born dumb, and learns speech but
slowly. Deep down 10 each heart was the
rapturous consciousness Of loving and Of being
beloved by the other, which is worth life
time Of 81 love you'S!'


Il brimmed each beart with sulliciDg de-
light, even as a hower-cup brimmed with dew


The sun will drink the dew up by-and-by
even as the world drinks in this fountain oi
Innocent gladuess. But the dew has been in
the nower-cup aud in the girls heart, frst'ove
whose memory never departs.


The wild rose 10 her hair was withered when
she again stood before her glass, with flushed
checks aud new brightness in her eyes But
she laid it-as carefully as a young mother
might lay her frst-borD 10 ia cradle-betweeu
two pages Of Tennyson, upon poem tha. be
had read 20 her the day before. it rests there
still


To a careless observer, what matters worn
copy Of Telnyson, with withcred wild rose
pressed between its leaves?


/ But 10 her it is all that is left, may be, Of
the purcst aud teuderest romance Of girls life
/ it is the first gift Of Ler Grst lover