THE SOWER. 
BY D. W. 0. PACKARD. 
Sow, farmer, sow, for the seedtime is here, 
Plant for the future and sow for the year, 
But weed out the thistle, and root up the thorn, 
Make room for the apple, the wheat and the corn. 
With foot on the spade, and with hand on the plow, 
With grime on the palm, and with sweat on the 
brow, 
Press onward, brave yeoman— thy vassal shall he 
All green earth that stretches betwixt sea and sea. 
The roll of the thunder, the beat of the rain, 
Tne wind of the mountain, the breath of the plain, 
The shimmer of moonlight—the dew, and the sun— 
Shall aid thco and cheer thee, till Harvest is won. 
Move on to the front, then, with shovel and hoe— 
The corn field shall rustle—the hillside shall glow— 
And Plenty and Peace shall abide in the land 
Which Labor hath conquered and Freedom hath 
planned. 
Brockton, Mas».,18!5. 
<©ur $tor2-@^r. 
MY FIRST ROMANCE, 
BY CHARLOTTE N. CORDNER. 
•* THOUGH the seasons of man full of losses 
Make empty the year* full of youth, 
If but one thing be constant In crosses, 
Change lays not her hand upon truth.” 
I sit in my little room and hear the rain beat 
against the window pane outside, from which 
it trickled in many a copious stream to the tin 
roof of the shed below, where, with a bubbling, 
gurgling sound, it is lost In the eaves. I watoh 
it for a while, and the leafless branches of the 
tree, which are tossed hither and thither by 
the wind, and I think of life life aa I find it, i 
with its hopes and aspirations, victories and 
defeats which, like the gray clouds above, are 
hurrying—whither ? 
The houses opposite rise up in the gray air, 
like a wall, shutting off the view, and the ab¬ 
sence of any signs of life about them adds to 
the cbeerleesnes* of the scene—for the curtains 
are drawn, or shutters closed, apparently to 
keep out the wind, which is roving about In 
rather a boisterous way. 
Within, the (Ire burns brightly, and though 
there are no signs of elegance in the room, an 
air of comfort prevails, which, on such a stormy 
day, renders it attractive. A cat with a red tip 
pot around her neok, lies sleeping before the 
Are, and the tick of the clock relieves the still¬ 
ness. 
A half-open letter lies on the table, received 
some days previously from Lina Drayton, an 
old sohoolmatc of mine, and aa I glance over It 
the memories of otd times arise, 
“ Like songs of dead soasons that wander 
On wings of articulate words,” 
bringing back the days of youth once moreaud 
us early romances. 
One visit in particular which she paid me they 
recall. I was then In my fifteenth year, and the 
experiences connected with it still Illumine the 
past with their light, though they were very 
brief aud many of the actors in it havo long 
since been dead. 
Lsft motherless at an early age, my home 
since thou had been with a step sister, named 
Jeanne. But six years my senior, she was al¬ 
ready the mother of three children and one of 
those efficient housekeepers whose duties leave 
but little rime for restbetlcal pursuits. 
flow much of a trial it was to me to place the 
monotony of cvery-day labor before my passion 
for knowledge, music, etc., I cannot here relate. 
This difference In our ambitions was not cal¬ 
culated to make me look to her for that sym¬ 
pathy which my heart demanded and youth 
required and it was then with great delight 
that I looked forward to a visit from Lina. 
For a short time she had been teaching school, 
and it was to pass one of her vacations that she 
was coming. 
Neither pretty nor accomplished, she was 
yet possessed of acertatn attractiveness. Hav¬ 
ing a fresh, bright face, with a pair of dark eye3, 
full of proprieties, and an abundance of pretty- 
brown hair, which she always kept neatly and 
tastefully arranged. Fairly educated and pos¬ 
sessed of a generous amount of amiability and 
common sense, I always liked to see her. 
When the day set apart for her arrival came 
she made her appearance looking smiling and 
happy; and for the next three weeks we en¬ 
deavored to make hex time pass as agreeably 
as possible. One mode of doing so was to visit 
allot the surrounding places of Interest; and 
it was during one of these trips that the events 
which I have previously alluded to occurred. 
Some twelve miles up the river from our home 
was a place noted for its picturesque beauty 
and here, on ono pleasant day, with our dinners 
nicely packed in baskets, we all bent our steps. 
The sail over, we sauntered up the hills which, 
dimpled by valleys, lay in every direction. 
Tasteful dwellings occasionally looked from 
between stately trees, and grottoes and summer 
houses rose from the grass-ribbed rocks as on 
we walked, until we came to a retired nook 
where we seated ourselves, preparatory to re¬ 
lieving our baskets of some of their contents, 
of which we were beginning to feel the need. 
Our lunch over, once more we climbed the 
rock3 in pursuit of wild flowers, or wandered 
off to a brook, where we threw pebbles iuto the adventurous one, was then about twenty-one 
stream and thought how 'twas years of age, but looked much more mature. 
" Cradled from wind and storm Afterwards we learned that his whole name was 
By many a great hill’s burly form.” Charles A. Retlaw. 
So, roving from one plaoe to another until we For a while, we all chatted together under the 
were quite wearied, we finally seated ourselves trees and then, aa the slanting beams of the sun 
under a large tree, and while twining wreaths warned us that the day was declining, we gath- 
for our hats, commenced eingiug some plain- ered our baskets and flowers together and saun- 
tive ballads. Lina had quite a sweet alto voice, tered down the hill, past the rocks, the rows of 
which accorded well with ours. And aa we stately trees, the stone walls and picturesque 
considered from our seclusion that we were fences until tho blue waves of the bay came lu 
warranted in making as much noise aa wo liked sight. We were early for the boat and while 
“ SAY 0-00ID NIO-ITT ALL. 3 
without fear of lining overheard, we gave full 
vent to our melodious Impulses. The last lines 
were just being concluded of 
*' A place in thy memory, dearest, 
Is all that I clulra ; 
To pause anil look hack when thou hearest 
The Bound of my name—" 
when, at a little distance off, we saw three gen¬ 
tlemen passing along, arm In arm. Iu a mo¬ 
ment we wero silent, and not until they were 
out of sight did we oonirnenoe again. 
Another verse had winged itself away through 
the cool shade and whispering leaves towards 
the great field of blue clouds above, breathing 
sentiments of renunciation, as some hero Is 
supposed to have addressed his mistress, with 
“ A notlicr may woo thee nearer 
Another may wlu and wear ; 
1 care not, though ho be dearer. 
So I am remembered there,” 
when we were again startled by the sound of 
footsteps in the leaves behind us, and on turn¬ 
ing we saw one of the geutlemen, hat In hand, 
and bowing at nearly every step which he took 
with a deference worthy of acourtier slowly ap¬ 
proaching us. 
“Pardon my Intrusion, ladies," he said, “but 
would you allow me to listen to your song ? I 
was much attracted by It and I shall esteem it 
a great favor if you will do so.” 
He then leaned against a tree, some little dis¬ 
tance off, with bis head still bared. Here was 
a dilemma! How could one refuse so appar¬ 
ently harmless and gracious a request, and yet 
—was it prudent? We looked at Jeanne, who 
good-naturedly bowed and bid us continue; but 
Lina was obstinate and it was only after much 
persuasion that 6he could be prevailed on to 
sing again. 
The seng being finished he then thanked us 
in the same gracious manner, spoke of the 
beauty of the scenery, and said that he had 
taken the sail thither In hopes that it would 
benefit a sick friend whom he had brought 
along with him ; and In a few minutes after the 
branches were pushed aside and hia comrades 
made their appearance. They were tall, finely 
formed men and one, apparently in ill health, 
saddened us by his delicate beauty—and yet 
they were all merry enough, chatting away in 
that genial manner which made us feel as 
though we had beeu friends from childhood. 
In addressing each other they used the names 
of Charley, Tom and George. Charley, the 
waiting Jeanne, quite like a martinet, private, 
ly informed us that the gentlemen must not 
remain with us after we got on board, as it was 
high time we put an end to such unconventional 
proceedings. 
As for Lina and myself, we were enjoylug the 
adventure with all of the Inexperience of our 
years. Greatly endowed with the romantic, 
which is but undeveloped poetry, I felt as 
though 1 had entered upon a new life. With 
such natures, burlsapring into bloom with great 
rapidity under the right influence, and I felt 
my checks glow and my heart boat with all of 
the stimulus that such an adventure was calcu¬ 
lated to call forth. 
Obedient to Jeannk'h command wo neverthe¬ 
less assumed an air of great haughtiness on en¬ 
tering the boat and withdrew to the farthest 
end of It, thinking they would leave us; but 
after making a tour of It, they came toward us 
again and asked permission to seat themselves 
beside us. 
Whether by design or otherwise I know not, 
but Mr. Retlaw was my companion again, and 
he made the sail home as agreeable as it was 
possible for a gentleman of his years to do, who 
appeared to be both competent and willing to 
entertain. The water was as smooth as glass in 
some places, and the sunset left much of its 
beauty reflected there. Palo, amber clouds 
floating like Islands on clear seas of white rose 
reefs and banks like heather bloom, all tended 
to call forth quotations from poets, legends and 
old songs, which Mr. Retlaw’s rejiertoire 
seemed to be well stocked with. Sometimes he 
gracefully threw a neoklace over my head com¬ 
posed of gems of thought when he could do so 
without too grossly flattering my young con¬ 
ceits. 
At last the sail like all pleasant things, came 
to an end, when Jeanne asked for our baskets, 
which the gentlemen were guarding as zealous¬ 
ly as if they intended to take them away home; 
and then she, with considerable coldness. In¬ 
formed them that she would not trouble them 
further: they had been extremely kind and she 
thanked them. I saw Mr. Retlaw follow me 
with his eyes, as if loth to obey her, but he did 
so, and lifting their hats to us they walked 
away, leaving us to talk over the adventure to¬ 
gether. 
The next day Jeanne left home, to be absent 
a week, and after dinner Lina and I started off 
to visit a lake, some two miles distant, which 
we had previously planned to do. 
An hour or two had been whiled away 'neath 
the low, dreamy music of the pines which bor¬ 
dered parts of It when, having pretty thorough¬ 
ly wearied ourselves of winding through their 
avenues of gloomy shade, coming to the gate¬ 
way of the Inclosure, we concluded to return 
home. Down the road we went when, just at 
a turn, we came in view of two gent lemen ap¬ 
proaching us and—could we be deceived? It 
was our friends of yesterday. I knew them by 
their dress. 
“ How have they found us out ?” I breathlessly 
asked of Lina. “ Why,” said she, “ it must 
have beeu ray fault, for 1 happened to say some¬ 
thing yesterday about the lake aud our expec¬ 
tation of visiting It, but don't think 1 said 
when.’’ 
Well, they luul, found ub again, sure enough, 
and this time it looked like a serious affair. 
“ We must go right home,” I said nervously. 
But when they came up to us they would abide 
by no such determination on our part. It was 
still early, they said. They would uot permit 
us to walk far I Only Just to oblige them, would 
wo not return and remain a half hour or so ? 
“ But how did you And us out ?" 1 said; “ how 
came you to think we were coming here?” 
“Why, George suggested tho possibility of 
your doing so,” said Charley, “and as I was 
wearied of studying, and aa It Is a kind of vaca¬ 
tion with me, we thought we would walk hero 
and find out. In fact, wo should have come 
every day, haunted tho place until we had 
found you, had we not have succeeded to-day. 
So, you see, some beneficent spirit, knowing 
our obstinacy, has arranged it all.” 
“ Well, I am surprised,” I said. “I never ox- 
poctod to see you again.” 
“ Oh, we never should have given it up so,” 
he said. “ In defiance of that dark-eyed duenna, 
your sister, we should have hunted until wo 
had found you again.” Alter saying which, 
taking cards from his pocket, he introduced 
himself and friend to us. Other confidences 
then folk wed respecting business, etc., until 
we felt quite at home with each oilier. 
Again we roamed 'neath tho loveliest shad¬ 
ows of tho pines, whose deciduous growth of 
the previous year had left a oarpot aa soft and 
luxurious for our feet as though they were 
treading on 'Turkish plush. Here and there 
through boughs the sun occasionally sprinkled 
its gold, burnishing t he pathway as on we wan¬ 
dered, chatting away as if our store of experi¬ 
ences had been accumulating ever slnco wo 
were born, just to tell thorn to each other. 
What, a pleasure as well as relief It seemed to 
lot the stream flow on unchecked, since every 
thought seemed so to mate with the other. 
That sr.tuo. ;-.*r.i'.c, which geueral'y rutir 
through the nature of young girls who aro early 
loft motherless, at last had found a hand which 
could wake Its music, and It poured Its first and 
purest melody forth. Consideration and ten- 
dernesa, united to fi uxkneas and an extreme 
lovo of his mother, soon won my confidence, 
despite the circumstances which had brought 
ns together. 
After a time wo all seated ourselves on ouo of 
the banka by the lake,when Lina's companion 
called upon Mr. Retlaw to give ua a recitation 
from one of tho poets. Though it, first demur¬ 
ring, he finally commenced and gave us several 
dramatic scenes from different authors, with 
a nicety of delineation which I do not even 
now cavil at, although twenty-llve years have 
elapsed since I listened to them, and I have had 
many opportunities of cultivating a more criti¬ 
cal taste. Among the selections were some 
brief passages from “ Ingomar” and the “ Lady 
of Lyons,” and when lie came to those linos, 
“ And wbeD night came, amidst the breathless heav¬ 
ens, 
We’d guess what star should be our home 
When love becomes immortal.” 
“It seemed as if we, too,beside that pine-girt 
lake, were seeking to read our destinies from 
the quiet heavens above which, like a divine 
book through t lie silent ages Illumes the dark¬ 
ness with its starry loro. 
It was the first time Lina or I had ever hoard 
of tho play, aud in our ignorance we then 
thought it was a portion of one of Shak- 
speare's, and spent all of the next day hunting 
for It. Since thou it has become so hackneyed 
that its early charm has flown. Unacquainted 
as we then were with It, It led me Into 
" A land of clear colors and stories 
In a region of shaaowless hours. 
Where earth had a garment of glories 
And murmur of musical flowers.” 
“He looked at you as though he felt every 
word that ho uttered," remarked Lina, when 
we were once more alone and could indulge In 
confidences. 
“Did he?" 1 answered, abruptly, 
“Yes," said she; “hia eyes kindled, and his 
cheeks flushed as though hia heart was the 
tribute bo was offering to you.” 
“And what do you think of Mr. Stanley?” 
I said. “I am buto he appears to be equally 
pleased with you." 
“Now don't," said Lina, “I can’t bear him 
He has uot the leaBt particle of originality. I 
think he takes Mr. Retlaw for bis model, and 
tries but falls sadly In his endeavors to be like 
him. Then he is so persistent and will not see 
that I do not fancy him.” 
“ Why does be wear his hair so long and have 
all those charms dangliug fo his watch chain ?" 
said she, after a pause. “I think it was that 
which first set me against him.” 
“ What a list of defects!” I replied. “ Now I 
nj. 
■■ ■ l ifts 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
JULY 3 
