A WITHERED BUD.

ONLY a withered rosebud; but it lifted
The heavy curtain from the past away,
And I forgot the long years that had drifted,
And lived again the glory of that day.

And for the moment all my cares were banished,
The petty trials, and the wearing pain,
And every footprint of the dead years vanished,
And I was fair, and fresh, and young again.

We stood within a garden hung with roses,
And "This young bud that modestly hangs down,"
You said, "is fairest now ere it uncloses,

And I will pluck it for your curls of brown."
And then you wondered if I knew its meaning;

And said, "My eyes and lips both tell it-love.'" And here you kissed me, with the maples screening Your action from the jealous birds above. Oh, long ago our youthful dream departed,

And neither mourned, or sorrowed in regret; And we were not cast down or broken-hearted, For we had learned, and wanted to forget. But something, out of life's rich, rare completeness, That comes but once, I felt again to-day, And something of a great and vanished sweetness I folded with that withered bud away.

A NEWPORT LOVE STORY.

THE gold-bright ribbon of sunset was quivering across the level glitter of the sea, a vapor which was neither mist nor sunshine, but an interweaving of both, through which far white sails shone and vanished like mirage, and the breeze, instinct with the coolness of leagues on leagues of green-lighted waves, touched Vivia Clifford's forehead like a loving hand as she sat on a ledge of white-gleaming rock, beneath the friendly shadow of steep cliffs, with wet trails of sea-weed festooned around her feet, and shells gleaming like forgotten flowers amid the crinkVOL. XXVII., No. 5-19

ling lines printed along the damp silvery surface of the sand by the fingers of the ebbing tide.

Viria would have made no inattractive picture as she sat there, with the lustrous gold of her long bright hair blown back by the sea wind, and the sweet pea-pink upon her cheeks, and the delicate oval outlines of her face; and her eyes had the velvety-blueness of the fleur-de-lis, that lifts its royal head among the ranks of June gardens, and her coral-red lips were curved like Diana's bow, and the chin had a mischievous dimple that came and went like a sunbeam, when you least expected to see it, and altogether she was one of those lovable human creatures -the very opposite of marble statues or cold goddesses-who are born to make human homes bright, with wedding-rings upon their rosy fingers. And, withal, Vivia Clifford was the prettiest girl at Newport that season.

She untied the green-ribboned straw hat, whose envious shadow hid her face, so that the saline air might touch her veined temples, and letting the dimpled chin sink into her left hand, gazed dreamily out at the far, gold-shining horizon.

"How beautiful it is!" she murmured, almost inaudibly, "and how much pleasanter it is to be breathing in this delicious air than to be sitting in state in that stuffy-smelling hotel parlor, with the pictures staring down at you, and the atmosphere full of sickening perfumes, and people wondering whether your jewels are real, or your cheeks rouged! I don't know why I wasn't born a fisherman's daughter instead of a fashionable young lady!''

66

"Perhaps," observed Mr. Ralph Vernay, who was leaning against the foot of the rock with folded arms, a straight young Apollo of strength and beauty, "for the same reason that I am a briefless lawyer instead of a millionaire.''

Vivia glanced down a shy, delicious little glance that quivered into Vernay's eyes as a blue sunbeam loses itself in the brown depths of a forest pool, and in that one look you might have read the sweet old story of love, burning on the altars of two hearts.

"Oh, Ralph, if you were only rich

"You would love me better. Is that what you mean, Vivic?" he asked, a little bitterly.

"Nonsense, Ralph; you know very well that that would be impossible; only, if you were rich, uncle Abel wouldn't make himself so horridly disagreeable."

Is your uncle as determined as ever, Vivia?"

you

Oh, Ralph, he says I'm a sentimental schoolgirl, and that

Well, what am I?" boldly demanded Mr. Vernay.

is going, and”

My darling!" soothed the lover, touching his lips softly to a fragrant tress of the shining hair, now transformed by the level sunbeams to braided threads of gold.

"Yes, I cried; and uncle Abel went away and banged the door. I don't care what he says of me, Ralph, but he shall not call you a v-v-vagabond!" And Miss Vivia's voice waxed a trifle hysterical.

"Let him talk on," laughed Vernay; a free use of adjectives is sometimes a powerful escape-valve. At all events, I am not a fossil-hearted old Methusaleh. And, Vivia, whatever he may take it into his capricious cranium to say or do, it won't alter one fact-the fact that I am most assuredly going to marry you."

Vivia's velvet-blue eyes shone admiringly on this bravehearted lover of hers. A woman likes a man's strength to lean against and rest on, and if the proverb-worn "current of true love" was determined not to run smooth, it was something to have so valiant a gondolier, with oars that made such a goodly splashing against the ill-meaning tides. "But, Ralph

"But, Vivia!"

"I can't marry you against uncle Abel's direct prohibition; I can love you, dearest, all the same, if only-"

'Now, look here, my blue-eyed darling," coaxed Mr. Vernay, "there's only one way for us to proceed, and that is”

"The way round the foot of the cliffs," chimed in a dry, husky little voice, as an elderly gentleman in a snuff-colored suit bobbed suddenly out from behind an overhanging rock, with pale, protruding eyes, that glared maliciously behind Brazilian pebble glasses. "That is the nearest; and as the sun has already set, time is of some consequence. Vivia, if you will take my arm, we'll walk up to the hotel."

Vivia's cheeks were crimson, but she took her uncle's arm without a word of remonstrance. The spell of the tyrannical old man's presence, temporally removed, was asserting its potency once more. But Mr. Vernay stepped forward, with a rebellious light flashing under his long eyelashes.

For you can't waltz the whole evening, and watch all night, unless you have an evil conscience or the dyspepsia, and Vivia Clifford had neither.

66

The soft crimson of dawn was just beginning to illumine the walls of her room, like faint lights shining through ruby glass, when a brisk knocking sounded on the panels of Miss Clifford's door. Come, come!" barked uncle Abel; "time to get up! Open your eyes! Early to bed and early to rise makes a girl healthy, wealthy and wise!' No more cat naps! Remember the clam party! Breakfast will be on the table in fifteen minutes precisely. Vivia, do you hear me?'' "Yes, yes, uncle Abel," faintly answered poor sleeply little Vivia, who would have given her prettiest coral ear-rings for one more hour of delicious morning slumber, and who fervently wished the clam party in Patagonia, at the very nearest.

A few miles beyond the sweep of the fashionable drives which belt Newport with glittering curves, a magnificent stretch of silvery sand leads up to jagged masses of rock, whose bald crests are fringed here and there with such hardy plants as thrive on the most barren soil. Upon this smooth and shingly beach flourishes the mollusk commonly known as clam, and hither come pilgrim bands in search of the soft-shelled treasures, or at least it forms a very plausible excuse for becoming summer costumes, flirtations, and time-murder in general.

Not until the last carriage had driven up to a spot where twc or three venerable cedars made a little oasis of shadow on the scorching sands, did Vivia perceive, with a start and a thrill of scarce concealed pleasure, that Ralph Vernay was among the company.

"Oh, Ralph!" she said, brightly, as he advanced, “I did not know-I never supposed— “Oh-ah-indeed!" interrupted uncle Abel, drawing Vivia's arm under his, and flashing defiance on the bold lover through his spectacle-orbs. "I wish you a very good-morning, Mr. Ralph. Where is the basket, Vivia? Come, girl, come: and what have you done with the little glass jar with the selfscrewing lid? Professor Wiseall tells me that one can find on

stant is of value."

So Miss Clifford was walked home, like a pretty prisoner of war, with uncle Abel's solemn truisms and monotonous maxims sounding in her ears above the untranslatable murmur of the sea, and she had to array herself in white grenadine and French flowers, and go down to the parlors, and waltz, and smile, and utter pretty insignificant nothings in the sultry atmosphere, with the gas-lights blazing above, and the melancholy pulses of Strauss's music floating on the air, while all the time the moon, a full orbed sphere of pearl, was rising so radiantly white over the rippling tides down by the shore, and she knew perfectly well that Ralph was smoking his cigar in the delicious solitude. Noblesse obligé! The young maidens of to-day are sacrificed as remorselessly as in the days of heathendom. Fashion is the Moloch of the nineteenth century; yet we fold our hands and piously thank Providence that we live in a civilized era!

Is it any wonder that Vivia Clifford wept a few sparkling drops that night as she took the French roses out of her hair, and fastened the necklace of turquoises away in its satin-lined

Summer vacation, indeed!" growled her grim relative. "Some people's lives seem to consist altogether of 'summer vacations.' When I was a young man beginning the world, we used to work hard for a living."

Vivia was silent, maliciously reflecting that that epoch must have belonged to the days of very, very long ago, when uncle Abel suddenly went off into raptures over divers wrinkled and unshapen shells which lay upon the sand at their feet.

"The finest Rayed-shell specimen that I ever saw!" he croaked, gleefully; "and that is the Venus Astarte, common, but nevertheless worthy of preservation: Cytherea, too! upon my word, the basket will be full before we know it. Give me the glass jar, Vivia, my dear, you will certainly spill out my beautiful Actinia."

'Why don't I?" repeated Vernay, coolly.

"Yes, why?" barked uncle Abel, growing irritable.

"Was that all

you

wanted to say to me, sir?" "Hold on! Come back, I say. No, it wasn't all. Take me off this death-trap of a place and you may marry my niece a dozen times, for all I care."

"Once will be all that is necessary, sir," said Mr. Vernay, with unmoved gravity. "Just wait an instant; I'll pull round to the lower side, where you can step in more easily."

And the keel of the boat grated harshly against the rough edges of rock-the sweetest sound that ever wooed uncle Abel Clifford's ears.

"Now, sir," cheerily cried Ralph, "take my hand-easy, with your left foot. Now we're all right!"

Uncle Abel seated himself, still hugging the quarto volume to his breast. He was safe; but he had been defeated, van

"A promise!"

"Yes; your promise that you will consent to my immediate marriage with this young lady, who is your ward as well as your niece."

"Oh, uncle Abel, say yes!" cried Vivia, leaning forward, with gold hair streaming backward, and hands entreatingly clasped.

"No!" shouted Mr. Clifford.

"Just as you please," said Ralph Vernay, quietly taking up the oars. "How very rapidly the tide comes in !"

Uncle Abel glanced apprehensively around. Mr. Vernay was assuredly right-the tide was rushing in with a roar like that of some infuriated wild animal.

tage. Yet, when he remembered the sick terrors that had assailed his mind as he stood trembling on those dizzy rocks, he could not but congratulate himself.

"Uncle Abel!"-and Vivia's cheek, soft, and fresh, and cool as a rose-leaf, was laid against his grizzled whisker, and Vivia's arm crept around his neck-" uncle Abel, you're not angry with me?" she pleaded, her dewy breath fanning his cheek. "No," said uncle Abel, brusquely, yet not unkindly, "not very angry.'

"And you'll forgive us, uncle Abel ?"

"There,

"I suppose I shall have to," said uncle Abel. there, you needn't quite choke a fellow to death! Such a famous Actinia as it was," he added, in a mournful sort of soliloquy; "and the self-screwing jar broken to pieces; an utter

the finest Rayed-shell I ever saw-nothing like it in all Wise

man.

"No."

But it was spoken with less of determined emphasis this time.

Mr. Vernay gave the oars a firm pull. Uncle Abel's croaking cry followed the boat's bounding movement over the

waves.

Uncle Abel had lost his niece and his Actinia both, and he was not quite sure which he regretted most.

And as the little boat glided homeward, making a shining track in the mellow moonlight brightness which rested on the sca, all three of the voyagers were silent, Vivia thinking of the long, long cruise of life, just begun for her.

"My darling," coaxed Vernay, "he's as safe and as obstinate as possible. One minute more of firmness, and the day is ours!"

As they spoke, the boat was gliding away, partly impelled by the current, and partly by Mr. Vernay's firm strokes. The spray from breaking waves was beginning to sprinkle uncle Abel's boots; he advanced a step, making an impromptu speaking-trumpet of his two hands.

"Come ba-a-ack!" he bawled, in stentorian accents. The boat shot toward him once again.

love!

THE J'HALLEDAR, OR STATE PALANQUIN OF INDIA.