The Jasper weekly courier. [volume] (Jasper, Ind.) 1858-1922, 1872-03-22

table in a simple white gown, looking
like the incarnation of summer against
"A background of roses, helping straw
berries and cream.
o Molly, Molly how could | find any
words? Ii was enough to SIT there and
know it all. Enough TO see you after
ward in the bright, cheerful little par.
Tor fitting about, threading your moth.
er's needles, playing back CANNON with
father un til he fell asleep, talking with
your sister and brother, making beau
tiful picture wherever you stood or sat,
and just letting me look on, as you
knew liked best.
1t was enough to go to sleep after
ward, and see it all over again in my
dreams; TO waken at your tap on the
door, and hear your May morning voice
bidding me get up; to listen to your
retreating footsteps, while my heart
kept time to them.
went downstairs, and found her
not in the parlor, not on the porch
where the birds were singing among
the honeysuckles, not on the garden
path that led down to the front.gate
with the peonies on either side and the
tir-trees at the end. In the garden
perhaps. went through the side. gate,
the picket-gate, with most delightful
arrangement of grape-vines over it, to
the garden beyond, brilliant with roses,
and there was a long, straight path
edged with box. and such foxgloves
and pansies, and all sorts of old-fash-
Toned flowers. There l found Molly.
She picked great red rose for me,
very full blown. and it fell to pieces in
my hand-a great handful of soft fresh
velvet-and then we ran into breakfast,
to fresh eggs and cream, and home.
made bread, and homemade butter,
and home grown strawberries and po-
tatoes. After breakfast we went out
into the garden again.
To stand at the end of a long walk
and see Molly picking roses, was n
pretty picture to see. TO hear her talk
about the flowers was picture and music
and poetry altogether.
She gave me some pansies, saying
that they were always like me to her.
l wondered why, but didn't ask her.
pointed to some white foxgloyes
in the sun. Yes, they're al
ways saying something to themselves.
never know what they say" she said,
bending down as if she would listen,
and sprin ging up again like a young
sapling and pointing to the peonies,
said: "How they hang down, drunk
with sunshine and dew! What unre-
served creatures they are! So unlike
the pansies u She laughed little slyly,
and turning up the wet face of a great
peony, buried her own in it. NY heart
fealt Jealous pang.
She couldn't bury her face in a pansy,
it was not big enough. We went in
laden, Molly with roses, l with fox.
gloves. Molly, who is never in q hurry
such a comfort to nervous man,
Heaven bless her |! leisurely arranged
her flowers in water, and l sat by
her, and looking at portfolio
Of her outdoor sketches.
These ardous tasks accomplished, we
took our painting traps and set forth on
4 walk over the fields of strawberries
and fields of grass, among fruit trees
md shade trees. Then we walked
over grain g meadows (where the crea-
lures came at Molly's call, and had no
ear of herr, and into orchards. past
he fruit-nouse, where the fruit was
Kept and packed for the market. Over
stone walls, from one orchard to
mother, we went, Molly keeping some
times at my side, sometimes behind,
in front of me, but always
on with her sweet talk in her
wonderful voice, playing a soft accom-
paniment to the peaceful scene.
|" Here we'll STOP" said Molly in a
Kind of accidental way she has, that is
quite fascinating.
We stopped, and Molly dropped on
he grass as if she meant to stay there
brewer. Forever be it, thought. Oh
,er blessed, restful ways I
We we're in an orchard where the |
sunlight sifted through the low branch
IS on to the green, soft ground be-
heath. We we're on the edge of a
natural terrace, where we looked |
Town on the top Of another orchard.
When the blossoms are out" said |
Molly, Il sit here in shower of petals |
md look down on a great pink and
White bed, and over there the noun |
aims are very dark-see and a CLEAN
If the river comes winding among the
rees."
A bird hoped close to us, and then
lew away to join his companions, who
we're practicing their scales among the
pple-trees. Molly sketched the scene,
nd I-how could sketch anything but
Jolly, when Molly was there? Molly
nth little pink handkerchief tied
round her lovely throat, and her sweet
ace in shadow beneath her straw hat,
nto which she had stuck some daisies
8 we walked.
A farmers daughter shouldn't like