WHEN THE ARBUTUS BLOOMS.
SH.E was waiting in the gathering twilight, and the fragrant
clusters of arbutus which he brought, pink and fresh from
the hillside, were not so beautiful as the fair girl who.
received them. His usually cheerful face was grave that night,
and as he told her of the firing on Sumter and of the call for
volunteers, her face paled and her heart almost stopped beating.
She knew what it all meant,—war, fierce, bloody, and long, and
he would go.
Yes, he marched away under the silken folds of the old flag
which he would, ere long, give his life blood to save; but he left
behind in .the little brown house up the lane a young wife, who ,
watched and waited in vain for his return.
* * * . *.
That was years ago; and tonight she was waiting again in the
twilight. Time had changed her, but had not taken away her
beauty; and the man who came up the lane, one could almost
imagine, was the same one who brought the Mayflowers so many
years ago, for he, too, was bringing her some from the hillside.
He was her pride, all she lived for, and as the rumors of another•
struggle came to her ears from time to time she trembled to think
that he might be taken from her like the other.
How like that April night was this one ! The fresh Spring air
filled with the perfume of apple blossoms, the steady murmur
from the meadow below, and the moon just showink through the
rim of pine wood beyond, brought back the memories of that.
other night with painful force.
His face lit up with a glad .smile as he approached and pinned.
the Mayflower to her bosom, and then, folding her in his arms,
he told her of the insult to our flag, the capture of Spanish ves
sels, and the feverish excitement from ocean to ocean.
" Mother,' I must go. May I?"
"Oh my son, can I give you up, too ?, rather in Heaven help,
me to bear it !"
The fond heart almost broke with the anguish of the parting,
but she sent him away with a mother's blessing; and night after