FES.  2S 
MOORE’S  RURAL  NEW-YORKER 
A  WINTER  SONG. 
Alas  !  cold  earth,  dost  thou  forget 
The  Bceot  of  AprU's  vlolot  ? 
Do  walling:  winds  bemoan  the  death 
Of  i'outh,  and  joy,  and  odorous  breath  ? 
Arc  all  these  shriveled  loaves  that  fall 
Heaped  up  for  beauty’s  burial  ? 
Ah  f  no,  no,  no ;  the  careful  year 
Proparos  a  bod  and  not  a  bier . 
Though  beauty's  trance  be  lon^  and  deep, 
Her  heart  still  quivers  in  her  sleep. 
Then  leave  her  place  of  slumber  bare ; 
Let  the  loved  eunliKht  onhu'  there. 
Alas!  cold  heart,  hast  thou  foregone 
The  bliss  that  o’er  tli.v  spring  time  shone  ? 
Has  all  the  winter  of  thy  ww 
Cfiugealcd  thy  wecpIiiK  into  biiow  ? 
And  in  that  long  and  bitter  frost. 
Has  the  sweet  life  of  love  Ijeeu  lost  ? 
Ah  !  no,  no,  no  -,  love  wakes  again, 
Though  still  and  pale  It  long  hath  lain. 
And  chilly  was  ite  place  i.'f  rest . 
Then  warm  it,  dearest,  on  thy  breast ; 
Revive  It  with  thy  voice  divine, 
It  wakens  to  no  touch  but  thine  1 
®l)f  .Storji-iTfllfr, 
-J  ^  ^ 
THE  BSOKEN  PRIMEOSES, 
A.  ma-HLAisr)  lovk  stotiy. 
Amono  all  llic  flotvers  tlmi  make  ihc  country 
beautiful,  l  think  none  have  such  a  tciulcr  pl.tcc 
In  memory  as  the  primrose.  Who  over  paasod  the 
months  or  spring  in  the  country,  in  childhood, 
who  cannot  recall  how  Joyouidy  the  nr.^t  iippcar- 
anceof  the  favorite  was  hailed,  and  Ihs  operdng 
watched  ha  its  delicate  buds  peeped  from  among 
the  thick  green  loaves  under  the  shade  or  u  brier 
bush,  or  around  the  roots  of  a  wide  hran<  Ulng  usli 
tree,  or  on  the  tiny  shtdvea  of  the  hoary  rock? 
To  SCO  oven  a  hunch  of  artinclal  pilinro.ses  on  a 
pretty  young  lady’s  bonnet  seems  to  me  to  give  a 
touch  of  poetry  lo  Uie 
wearer;  while  to  see 
them  worn  by  a  matron 
about  to  enter  Into  the 
sere  and  yellow  leaf  pe¬ 
riod  looks  like  the.  ripe 
mouths  of  .September  or 
October  tvearlng  the  liv¬ 
ery  of  sprUig.  They  seem 
more  in  keeping  even  on 
the  silvery  locks  of  old 
age;  for  an  early  jnlm- 
rose  may  blos.som  on  the 
brow  of  winter.  But  to 
our  sfor.y. 
The  laird  of  a  certain 
Highland  estite,  which 
we  will  call  Acha  nelleHU, 
was  early  left  futlK  iic:s.s, 
but  was  i.arctully  I  ruined 
by  a  very  wise,  all  hough 
a  doting  mother.  Sir 
Evan  wa.s  a  fine,  hlgli- 
Bplrlted  young  man.  who 
gave  her  the  very  high¬ 
est  Witlsfai'llon  in  all 
things,  e.vceptlng  in  the 
wandering  hahlt,^  he  had 
early  formed.  He  would 
often  dress  himself  In  the 
strangest  dlsgntse.s  and 
mingle  with  hla  tenants, 
taking  a  leading  share  In 
their  games  and  pa.s- 
tlmes.  Uu ring  his  strolls 
he  frequently  ga/ed  with 
delight  upon  such  imno- 
ramas  as  that  so  beauti¬ 
fully  delineated  in  \ 
Mountain  Scene  In  Scot¬ 
land  "—a  view  not  un¬ 
common  In  tlie  High¬ 
lands. 
Sir  Evan's  mother, 
knowing  his  high  and 
honorable  nature,  was 
never  afraid  of  his  doing 
anything  wrong,  at  such 
times,  but  she  tbouglit 
hl3  conduct  undlgnlllcd ; 
BO,  as  sho  could  not  win 
him  from  this  strange 
habit,  she  tried  to  influ¬ 
ence  him  to  get  married. 
With  this  object  In  view 
she  gathered  aroimd  hor, 
both  In  London  and  at 
home,  all  the  young  la¬ 
dles  she  mo-st  admired; 
but  her  efforts  seemed  in 
vain.  Sir  Evan  was  cour¬ 
teous  and  iittpntlve  to  all 
her  guests,  but  he  was 
still  fancy  free;  and  she 
loved  him  too  tenderly 
to  wish  to  see  him  mar¬ 
ried  wflthout  a  Blncero 
attachment.  Bhe  knew 
the  requirements  or  lils 
nature,  and  understood, 
therefore,  that  a  lovele.ss 
marriage  would  only 
drive  him  further  Into 
the  wandering  habits 
from  which  she  wished 
him  weaned. 
When  Sir  Evan  was  in 
his  twenty-ntth  year,  he  went  lo  a  distant  part,  of 
his  estate,  which  he  had  never  visited  before; 
and,  hearing  there  was  to  he  a  wedding,  bo  went 
to  it  In  disguise  as  a,  minstrel.  He  wore  a  tat  torPfl 
old  tartan  coat,  and  earned  his  rtddlo  over  his 
bhonldev  In  a  green  baize  bag.  while  his  fair  skin 
was  stained  to  appear  d.irk  a.s  a  glpsy^. 
n  wa.s  towards  the  latter  end  or  spring— a  clear, 
beautiful  ariernoon  -and  by  the  liver-sldc  the 
young  people  were  g.ally  dancing,  while  an  old 
Willie- ha  lied  man,  with  palsied  hand,  was  trying 
his  best  lo  give  i.hom  miiNie.  The  young  man 
drew  near,  mid  bowing  to  the  company,  he  drew 
his  old  bonnet  over  Ids  brow  and  began  to  play. 
The  dancers  were  delighted,  tor  they  had  never 
llslenedlosuclisl.riiinshctore;  and  l.lieold  tiddler, 
trembling  tor  fear  of  losing  Hie  reward  he  expect¬ 
ed,  went  to  the  young  lulnslriU  In  the  llrst.  pau.se 
of  the  music,  and  iirofiosed  i.hai.  whatever  was 
paid  in  either  or  them  should  he  efpmlly  rllvided 
with  the  other.  'The  young  man  imighlngly  as¬ 
sented,  and  wiien  i.he  be.st  man  eaioc  to  offer  him 
a  glass  or  something  to  drink,  he  retnaed  It;  hul 
said,  as  It  was  getting  cold.  If  the  old  man  would 
play  them  a  spring,  he  would  he  glad  to  he  allowed 
to  danoe  a  reel. 
I’ermtssloii  wa.s  al  once  given,  and  the  minstrel 
asked  for  his  partner  a  pretty,  gi’ay-cycd,  modest- 
looking  mmden.  whose  graceful  movements  he 
had  watcued  iti  the  dance,  she  rciullly  gave  him 
her  hand,  and  tmeh  darning  wa.s  seldom  seen  by 
those  present.  When  he  led  her  back  to  her 
friends,  he  offered  licr  a  lew  primroses  from  a 
small  bouquet  he  had  gathered  by  the  ilver-.slde, 
and,  turning  to  another  fair  girl,  he  offered  hor 
the  remainder  or  i  he  dowel's,  and  begged  her  hand 
tor  the  ne.xi  dance.  Slie  tossed  her  head  Indig¬ 
nantly,  and  her  look.sauld  plainly,  “  Ho  you  think 
I  would  danee  with  a  gijisy  7"  .She  had  taken  the 
llowei-s  out  01  Ills  hand,  hnt  she  broke  them,  and 
cast  them  away,  .saying  suddenly',  “I  don’t  care 
for  flowers,  and  I’m  not  going  to  dance  with  yon, 
thank  you." 
The  young  man  turned  away  hast  lly,  ami  the 
maiden  who  had  danced  with  him  aald  to  ber 
companion,  “How  could  yon  wound  the  young 
man's  feelings  HO?  What  harm  could  It  do  you  to 
dance  with  nim?  And  oh!  the  dear  primroses; 
the  flret  I  havo  seen  this  year;  sec,  you  have 
broken  them  ;”  and  Ellen  bowed  down  and  gath¬ 
ered  the  scattered  flowers,  carefully  placed  them 
among  those  given  herself,  and  fixed  them  In  her 
belt. 
“  How  coiUd  yon  rntlmr  dance  with  a  fellow  like 
that— likely  one  of  t  he  gang  of  tinkers  that  passed 
yesterday  •?  And  will  you  really  wear  the  flowers 
he  gave?'’  replied  the  maklcii  wltli  a  .simrnriil 
aneer. 
“  I  wear  the  flowers  lor  tlioir  own  sakes.  How' 
could  you  break  them -the  beauties?”  replied 
KUen,  Ciucsslng  the  bonqnef.  with  a  lender  touch ; 
“anda.s  for  dancing  with  the  young  man,  1  am 
sure  1  am  quite  ready  to  do  so  again,  were  11  only 
for  Ills  delightful  music.” 
Margaret. drew  hei'self  away  Indlgullled  silence, 
Hhc  wa.s  quite  hornfled  al.  the  conduct  of  Ellen; 
and  the  young  man,  who  was  hovering  near,  and 
watching  llic  maidens,  again  offered  htshand  to 
Ellen;  and,  anxious  to  heal  I.he  wound  her  com¬ 
panion  had  given,  she  (lanced  with  him  gladly. 
He  saw  she  was  enraptured  with  his  music,  and 
he  wa.H delighted  when,  at  the  elose  of  the  festival, 
sli(.‘  asked  him  to  proceed  lo  her  father’s  hortso, 
where  sho  wished  to  hear  again  his  sweet  strains, 
«he  had  an  old  piano— not  a  very  good  one,  but 
nevertheless  one  that  gave  her  pleasure;  and  she 
wished  to  try  some  of  the  tunes  he  had  played  to 
t  he  daneers.  Ellen's  sisters  were  very  much  a  fraid 
she  had  compromised  tlio  famll.v  dignity  by  dan¬ 
cing  with  this  stroller,  and  they  grumbled  about, 
her  .asking  him  to  their  home  so  lat.e  in  the  even¬ 
ing.  He  went,  however;  and  after  Ellon  and  hlm- 
scir  had  riiseourserl  music  for  a.  considerable  length 
of  time,  to  Ihe  delight  of  the  old  folks,  who  were 
rattier  proud  of  Ellen’s  niu.^lcal  laHlo,  he  rose  to 
leave. 
They  offered  him  a  bed  m  the  biirn,  hut  lie  said 
he  had  to  he  miles  away  hefore  daylight;  so  Ellen 
gave  him  a  iilecc  of  money  and  stuffed  his  poekeLs 
with  bread  and  beef  and  a  largo  piece  of  cheese, 
at  the  same  time  begging  of  him  If  he  ever  came 
that,  way  again  to  give  them  the  pleasure  of  ILsI.en- 
Ing  to  his  minstrelsy. 
Sir  Evan  returned  to  hl.s  own  castle,  hni.  he 
could  not  UauLsh  the  Image  of  the  genUn  Ellen 
from  his  heart.  When  he  slept  or  woke  he  always  I 
saw  her  as  she  stood  Axing  the  broken  primroses 
In  her  belt- looking  so  sweet  and  pretty  In  her 
while  dress  and  blue  ribbons,  and  lier  rippling 
brown  hair  tossed  both  by  tlic  evening  breeze  and 
by  the  dancing;  and  at  length  when  his  mother 
renewed  her  attack.s  upon  him  about  getting  mar¬ 
ried,  he  101(1  her  of  the  maiden  he  had  learned  to 
love  so  well. 
The.  Indy  wiis  dumbfounded.  Was  her  darling 
sdii,  the  pride  Of  her  heart,  to  wed  a  nameless, 
hnmbU?  bride?  But  as  she  pondered  the  matter 
over  she  became  more  reconciled  to  It.  It  he  loved 
this  mnlden  his  happiness  was  concerned,  and 
what  wa.s  his  true  happiness  was  hers.  Bo  after 
a  short  silence  that  almost  seemed  years,  she 
ral.sed  her  head  and  asked  81r  Evan  li  he  had  cause 
to  think  the  maiden  returned  his  love  7 
“  f  dare  not  say  slie  docs,  mother,’’  he  replied ; 
“yet,  I  think  she  thought  tenderly  of  the  strolling 
musician.  I  think  there  was  a  sigh  or  regret  (or 
his  not  being  the.  son  ol  a  neighboring  farmer.  I 
could  read  that  In  her  dark  gra.y  e.ves,  even  when 
she  was  not.  the  least  eonsclous  m  it  herself.” 
“  Ood  ble.ss  you,  my  dear  son,”  replied  the  good 
lady,  with  a  tremor  in  her  voice,  “  Hod  bless  you. 
Indeed;  .'io  amiable  a  maiden  must  prove  asivcet 
companion  ;  and  she  must  be  in  a  measure  accom¬ 
plished,  according  to  your  stateincnt ;  and  It  It  Is 
for  your  happlnoas,  f  am  reconciled.” 
Tho  young  man  kissed  his  mother’s  hand  with 
tenderness  and  gratitude;  and  he  went  at  once 
to  order  out  liLs  carriage  for  the  Interesting  jour¬ 
ney.  He  dressed  wlt.u  gieaicare,  and  a.  Hnor-look- 
Ing  man  could  seldom  bo  seen. 
Ills  well-knit  limbs  were  lithe  a  nd  hardy-look¬ 
ing,  and  aUnw(;d  the  nimble  hunt.sman  or  the  brave 
soldier,  as  oeea.slon  might  deinond.  Ills  dark  hazel 
eye  was  beautiful,  and  his  (uirling  hair  the  very 
•dnnnle.st  shade  oi  hrown.  His  hiishy  whiskers 
w('re  aiibiirn,  and  the  habit  of  command  gave  a, 
dignity  to  bis  presejn.ie  that  hlglttcnod  the  charm 
or  the  whole. 
Ellen's  father  saw  ihe  earrliige  approach  his 
house  In  great  surprise,  for  he  knew  the  great 
yellow  enrriage,  though  he  had  not  seen  It  for 
yeai's.  He  went,  bonnet  In  hand,  to  meet  the 
laird,  while  his  good  wife  ha.sMly  got  on  her  best 
cap,  and  looked  to  Iut  whisky  bottle  and  her 
bread  and  cheese,  In  case 
he  might  alight  to  rest 
his  horse  and  get  .some 
refreshments,  as  she  had 
seen  Id.s  excellent  lather 
(In. 
Sir  Evan  leaped  from 
the  carriage,  and  gully 
entered  the  old  house  as 
It  he  hud  been  an  ae- 
qiialntanc.o  tor  year.s,  to 
tho  gre.at  (hilght  ol  tim 
good  Carnierarid  his  wife. 
He  p;(rl(jnk  Of  a.  glass  Of 
rl'ii  enmid  and  a  piece 
Of  dellelons  oatcake,  and 
then  aHke(|  to  see  their 
family.  They  eaine  one 
by  one,  1,(11,  hinshlng 
girls,  and  stoiil,  hcalthy- 
lodtlng,  awkward  lad.s-- 
all  hnt  Klh'n  ;  and  .‘'Ir 
Evan  asKf  fI  If  t  hese  were 
all. 
“We  liave  one  other 
danghter,  ourseeond  eld¬ 
est,  hnt  she  l.shu.sy  with 
some  household  duties, 
iiiid  unfit  to  come  into 
yonr  picsenee ;  so  we 
h(i|)e  yon  will  excuse 
her,  .sir  Evan,”  said  tho 
iiKii  hr  r  gravely. 
“.Show  me  where  to 
lliul  her  then,  and  I  will 
goto  her,”  said  sir  Evan, 
with  a  .strange  (julvcr  of 
lip  and  voice. 
iiie  mother  was  about 
to  call  ihc  daughter, 
when  ono  of  the  boys, 
hastily  opening  the  door, 
pointed  to  the  room 
where  Ellen  was  busily 
taking  off  the  butter 
from  I  he  churn.  She  was 
arrayed  in  a  (iluln  gray 
IliKin  dress,  clean  and 
neat,  and  Hie  curls,  that 
had  hung  so  prettily 
about  her  neck  and  (aco 
ill.  the  wedding,  wore 
fasl.ene(l  back  with  a 
piece  ot  bright  blue  rib¬ 
bon;  but  the  dnjoplng, 
tall,  llly-Ilke  figure  and 
the  modest  gray  eye.s 
wen:  the  same,  and  the 
expression  he  thought  so 
angelic  when  she  gath¬ 
ered  the  broken  prim¬ 
roses  was  still  the  same 
also;  Indeed,  as  he  gazed 
upon  her,  he  thought  her 
more  heaulltul  thanever. 
slip  looked  bewildered  at 
the  fair  fiicc  ot  tho  young 
man,  and  he  took  her 
hand,  saying “  I  have 
accepted  your  Invitation, 
Ellen.  You  see  I  have 
returned,  though  In  good 
sixith  your  eyes  would 
speak  a  warmer  wel- 
coiin^  It  I  had  come  wltli 
my  tattered  coat  and  my 
naaip.” 
