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To-day's Short Story.

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To-day's Short Story. THE BRIDE'S ROSES The- old Potomax^-Cburdh. built in the far- gon-o days of the old British regime in America, statiids amid the low-lying hills that encircle tlhe swift-lowing Rappahan- nook, with, the apexes of Fredericksburg shining in tihe disttxnee and the everlasting ikaes for which Virginia is go noted, stand- ing1 in thick fifes on either hand. One can even yet. discover some traces of the old altar stones, and the tablets wihereon the names of the dmmd and gone vestrymen are recorded, and thejJeW occe occupied by Washingtion and Ms relatives is &till reverently pointed out to everjy sightseer, who turns out of the beaten thoroughfare of travel, to have a look at this sacred and venerable pile. "Bnt the bride's rose, have you seen that?" questioned the guide, as we were making our way out over tihe crura<b!:in>g- of mortar. "'rh-ù bride's rc&e? Why ro, what is it?" Our guide was a woman—a grey and gaUDt, old creature, who lives in a little hut near at hand, and earns an honest penny, now and then, by showing tnyveilers over the rains of old Potozaac Church. She turned baxyk cn ttlIe instant, shaking her grey bead slowly from aide to side. Aii, you most see the brkle's rose," she said; "come along" We followed bar back, over bea-pe of debris, under the crrrambling arobes of the old English tenspte—oate and ghost—moths hurtling in our wry eyes, and the hush, of the falling twilight all about us. Through the main out at the great arched door, down the fallen steps on to a little court- ji ynrd. The oM woman stteoped dawn and parted tbe rarJk, laxiirious growth that covered the ruins at our feet. There it is," she saody loofc!" We stooped down, and looking closely, saw amid the rank grass a great cluster of eearlet roses. The shrub upon which they bloomed seemed to bo small and stunted in its growth; but the flowers were a marvel of peTi20C, large, so fine, so delioate in tint and texture, more like he caltiva t xl bloom of a. hothouse than the wild groswth o.f the fields. Stop! Ye"! wouldn't tiraeh 'em?" cried the cold creature in utter itorror, as we put out our hand to pull one of the perfect flowers. Don't for pity's sake. It is the "bride's rose, red with bJoocL; and presently the bride herseif will come, as is her wont every night, and gather them, and every morning they bloom again afresh. Don't touch 'em!" We drew back with an involuntary shudder, and tho old woman rose to betr feet, letting the rank grasses close around the blood-rod blossoms. Come," she said, in a sort of awed wliisper, "you've seen the rose; let's be going. The dark wiR be upon us—and the bride walks at dark! We musn't be here when she ocanes. Ra:rk-tù:r.a.t's her voice now! Don't you hear? She always comes so that her lover may know when to meet her. Don't you hear?" With her skeleton finger uplifted, and her hollow gaze fixed on mine, the old creature stood and listened. A faint, sweet murmur that might have been the echo of distant song, or the soft pulsing of the summer air, thrilled the twilight silence. Don't you hear?" she cried, in terroT. Ooma away!" And, be-If in awe myself, as I looked baok at the gray ruIns. over which the summer darknW3 was falling, I fo?towed her across the green copse, through the moaning 1 ridges, and up to the low doorway of her little hut. There was a light within, a.nd I we could see her daughter busy preparing our evening rneai. The old woman sat down upon the sill and wiped the 1Derspiration from her brow. 11 we, ve run a risk," she said; "if we'd ha' lingered another half hour 'twould ha' been the last o' us. No one ever lives as once sees the bride. One man was foolhardy enough to try it long ago; he waited and watched to see her come, and he was never heard of again." She must be a terrible hride. then," I answered, sitting down beside her; won't you tell me about her? Tell me the story from beginning to end. There is a story, isn't there?" Oh, yes, I've told it hundreds of times in my day. Listen and you shall hear it. It all happened centuries ago, when the old church yonder was being built." A great gentleman come across the s-ea from England. He lived in a great house down among the hii^ below there, and had no end o' servants, and dishes o' gold and silver to eat out of, and fine carriages to ride in, and hia daughter was the grandest lady in the whole country, and the hand- somest. She had a &kin uKe the siio>w, and she wore gowns o' the finest silk ever wove. Well, ho meant to marry her to some great man, who was to come across from England; but the Lady DiaTIa-tht raa her name—what should she do but fail in love with the head anohitoct, who was aibuilding the old church down yonder. He was a flne young fellow, but he oome the people and he wasn't over rich, and he daren't show himself aA the grea.t house; every evening at twilight the Lady Diana, she comes down to the church to meet him, and they walks up and down a-talking o' their love till the midnight stars were overhead. Her father knows nothing about it, and be sends to England for the fine gentleman to come over and marry his daughter. And he comes and ports a glittering ring on Lady Diana's finger, and the wedding-day is fixed, and the wedding finery making up —while silks and satin and laces, such. aa never was seen afcrre under the sun. And Lady Diana is afraid to say a word, but she goes down to the church; and if he isn't there she falls a-ainging in her soft, sweet voice, and he hears her and comes, amd they walk up and down together. But at last the wedding-day comes, and the wedding feast is oooked, and all the grand wedding guests invited. And the wedding finery is a-lj. in readiness, and the father commands his daughter to get ready for her marriage. And she dare not disobey, or open her mouth to tell him a word about the man she lov-æ. So she sits whito and still, like a ghost, while they robe her in the white silks, arnd fcuces, and jewels; and then they lead her dowra the great staircase, and put her in the carriage, and the grand wedding party drives down to the new church. They a.re to be married there; the very first naarru-u,o,o before the new altar. A groom gallops ahead, to bid the head architect to have the bells in readinesa to ring for the wedding:; and he goes up on the dizy steeple in a great hurry to see for himself that all is right- He has heard nothing of the marriage, and has no dream that Lady Diana is to be the bride. But presently he looks down, just as the grand paaty comes dashing up, and he sees Lady Diatia come walking up to the steps, all in her white silks and laces, with her white veil flowing to her feet, and she -a-leaning on the arm of the fine English gentleman, and all in a minute it flashed through his mind what is going to be—that Lady Diana, had played him false, and has oome to church to be made another man's bride. He grows blind aDd sick, and reels where he stands, and presently he fa-lls headlon-g down from the dizzy siteapie. He strikes the flagstones in the courtyard right at Lady Diana's feet, as she comes sweeping on her bridegroom's arm. She sees tiva. and knows him, and falls GEORGETOWN BOYS' SCHOOL, MERTHYR.-CLASS IV. A beautifully-printed Photograph, mounted on cardboard, ready for framing, of any of the School Classes which have appeared in the Evening Express will be Given Free in Exchange for 24 Front Page Headings, not more than six weeks old, cut out and Eent to this office. This otter applies only to groups marked Evening Express" Photo. I" EVENING EXPRESS PHOTO on her knees beside him with an awful cry. The blood stains her white marriage robes, a-nd the white rosos in her hair fail out, and lay dabbled m a pool of red blood. They raise her up, and carry her off, but the wedding does not go on for the poor lady lies in swoon, and that night she dies, calling on her dead lover's name. "The next day, when the men come to wash away the blood-stains from the flag- stones where the poor architect's body fell, they find that Lady Diana's bridal roecs have taken root, and are growing betwixt the flagstones in the courtyard, and instead of being white they are blood-red. That's the story of the bride's roeee. And for hundreds of years, they have grown and bloomed in that same spot, and every night, as surely as the dark falls, the poor, broken-hearted lady comes a-eraging with her white laces, and her long marriage veil a-trailing and rustling, and she stoops down and gather-s the red roses; but when the next morning comes they are blooming again as fresh as ever. Winter or summer .the bride's rcaes never fail. They are emblems of her love."

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