The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1873-06-05
THE TEA ROSE.

There it stood, in its little green vase,
on light ebony stand, in the window
of the drawing-room. The rich satin
curtains, with their costly fringes, swept
down on either side of it, and around
it glittered every rare and fanciful trife
which wealth can offer to luxury, and
yet that simple rose was the fairest of
them all. So pure it looked, its white
leaves just touched with that delicious,
creamy tint peculiar to its kind it's cup
so full, so perfect; its head bending as
if it were sinking and melting away in
its own richness-oh! when did ever
man make anything to equal the living
perfect fowerl
But the sunlight that streamed
through the window revealed something
fairer than the rose-a young lady re-
clining on an ottoman, who was thus
addressed by her livelier cousin. 81
say, cousin, have been thinking what
you are to do with your pet rose when
you go to New York, as to our conster-
nation you are determined to do; you
know it would be sad pity to leave it
with such scatter-brain as I am. /
love flowers indeed; that is, | like a
regular bouquet, cut off and tied up, to
carry to party; but as to all this tend
ing and fussing, which Is needful to keep
them growing, have no gifts in that
line."
"Make yourself easy as to that, Kate, "
said Florence with smile 81 have no
intention of calling upon your talents /;
I have an asylum in view for my favor
ite."
ooh, then you know just what / was
going to say. Mrs. Marshall, / pre-
sumo, has been speaking to you; she
was here yesterday, and was quite pa
thetic upon the subject, telling her the
loss your favorite would sustain, and so
forth; and she said how delighted she
would be to have it in her greenhouse,
it is in such fine state now, SO full of
buds. l told her I knew you would
like to give it to her, you are So fond of
Mrs. Marshall, yoh know"
"Now, Kate, am sorry, but / have
otherwise engaged it,"
"Who can it be? you have so few in
Inmates here"
"Oh, it is only one of my odd fan
cies."
"But do tell me, Florence"
"Well, cousin, you know the little
pale girl to whom we give sewing?'
"What? little Mary Stephens? How
absurd, Florence! This is just another
of your motherly, old-maidish ways,
dressing dolls for poor children, max
ing bonnets and knitting socks for all
the little dirty babies in the neighbor.
hood. I do believe you have made
more calls in those two vile, ill-smelling
alleys behind our house, than ever you
have in Chestnut street, though you
know everybody is half dying to sec
you; and now, to crown all, you must
give this choice little bijou to a seam
stress-girl, when one of your most init
mate friends, in your own class, would
value it so highly. What in the world
can people in their circumstances want
with flowers? ?"
"Just the same as ] do" replied Flor.
ence, calmly. "Have you not noticed
that little girl never comes here without
looking wistfully at the opening budst
And don't you remember, the other
morning she asked me so prettily if ]
would let her neither come and see it,
she was so fond of fowers?"
"But, Florence, only think of this
rare flower standing on table with
ham, eggs, cheese, and flour, and stifed
in that close little room where Mrs.
Stephens and her daughter manage tc
wash, iron, and cook"
"Well, Kate, and if I were Obliged
to live in one coarse room, and wash
and iron, and cook, as you say ; if l ha6
to spend every moment of my time il
toll, with no prospect from my window
but brick wall and dirty lane, such ,
flower as this would be untold enjoy
ment to me"
"Pshaw, Florence all sentiment
Poor people have no time to be senti
mental. Besides, don't believe it viii
grow with them; it is greenhouse
flower, and used to delicate living"
"Oh, as to that, a flower never in
quires whether its owner is rich or poor
and Mrs. Stephens, whatever else sh'
has not, has sunshine Of as good quality