The weekly Shasta courier., 1873-10-18

ly glowing with autumn wild flowers. She
picked as many as she could carry, and sal
down in the shade to arrange them. The
child had great deal taste, and the grace
full little punches of gold and silver rod anc
purple asters, with delicate ferns for green
would rival the stiffly grouped rose-buds ant
heliotrope that city people priced so highly
Through the field ran a little stream, anc
among the stones on its banks Amilie founC
bits of soft green moss, with which she lin
ed her basket; then, with the bouquet;
stuck here and there through the moss bed
a very pleasing effect was the result. She
sprinkled her little garden, covered it from
the sun with large leaves, and then trudged
home, very hopeful of the little fortune they
were to bring her.
She went to one of the theatres that was
opened for a matinee, and there her modest
little face was sufficient passport. Once in
side that brilliant place, her courage almost
failed her, all was so new and strange to her
but hearing another girl calling" Flowers =
she summoned up her courage, and started
down one of the aisles. Flowers !" she
called, in sweet, low voice but no one
heard her. The thought of her father and
mother strengthened her, and with ner-
vous, long g-drawn breath, she called, " Wild
flowers " again. This time her voice rang
loud and clear through the great building
with startling sweetness, and heads were
turned to see where it came from. Amilie
held her basket to some ladies near, and
their exclamations of admiration of the
tasteful little garden encouraged the poor
child. 1t was kind-faced lady who first
spoke to her.
"Who taught you to make such pretty
display of your flowers. little girl"
"No one" SAID Amilie, "unless mamma,
who always says I ought to do everything
as well as | can but you know flowers are
pretty in any way"
The lady took up a bunch, and asked
Antilles price.
Ten cents, please"
Ten cents! Why, child, paid twenty
five cents for this rose and heliotrope. You
must ask more than that for your flowers. u
But you know, mine are only wild ones,' y
said Amilie.
wild yes, of course. That makes them
more valuable in this place. Here are thir-
ty cents, and don't sell any for one cent less.
Now, mind what | say, and let ME know
when they are all sold"
Amiie was joyful, and her voice rang out
even clearer than before. The flowers were
in great demand, and she received so many
words of encouragement that when she
reached the kind lady again, with her bask-
empty and five dollars in her hand her face
was all aglow with pleasure, and tears start
to her eyes when she tried to thank her kind
friend and tell how glad she was.
Don't cry, dear" said the lady, in a
whisper. 81 know you are a good girl.
There is another dollar to add to what you
have made. Come here next Saturday, and
| shall be here then to buy some more of
your flowers
Here the curtain rose for the last act,
and Amilie, after kissing the lady's hand,
slipped out of doors and ran with a light
heart to her father and mother. They would
hardly believe the good news she brought
them. Francois kissed her, and with tears
in his eyes called her his Braue petite
flle." Elise held the child to her heart,
and her tears fell fast upon Antilles pretty
hair.
1t would be too long a story to tell how
Amie sold wild flowers every day, and the
many kind words she received from the lady
at the theatre-not only words, but more
substantial benefits how Francois toiled
daily at labor for which his hands were not
made and how all three Just managed to
keep their souls and bodies together how
Francois, through long suffering, fell i'll, and
then Amilie worked all the harder 1t is a
sad story, all of this, yet her bright face
D1a1a tho flf har aDH M nth hor han,r,
died, and Elise soon followed her husband :;
then poor Amilie was alone! Was it any
wonder that she gave way to the grief of
her heart? There was no one for her to be
cheerful for, aud the poor chld's face came
to wear the sad look we have seen upon it..
The kind lady at the theatre died too, and
Amilie was entirely without friends. She
was sixteen years old, beautiful, orphaned,
and frendless! What pitiless place New
York is for such a one After awhile.
Amilie succeeded in getting work in the
shape of sewing, and, by dint of hard and
constant toll she kept the room endeared
to her by so many associations; the room
she had aided her father in keeping, and
where she had seen her beloved parents
close their eyes in the last sleep. This
was hard life for the poor child, but she
bore it all bravely, and tried not to think
how lonely she was.
We have now come to the time when the
strange blackbird with its mysterious mis-
sive came to Amilie. She did not stop her
work that evening to get her supper; she
took piece of bread and crumbled it upon
the table for the bird to eat, and then stitch
ed busily away. While she was still sewing
she heard a rap at the door, and, answering
it, saw young woman, who asked, " Are
you Mademoiselle Corday?"
Il am" said Amilie.
81 came for Madame Jennings dress,'
said the visitor, with strong French ac-
cent. 4" see it is not yet finished, but
can wait leetle time"
Amilie gave her chair, and resumed her
work.
g Gou know my name, mademoiselle
1t is Eloise Noel. am governess for Ma
dame Jennings children She send me for
the dress, for she say you are French girl
such as L."
Amilie explained to her how nearly she
was French, and a brisk conversation en-
sued. Eloises bright manner and pleasant
chat made the time pass quickly for Anilie
In the midst of their talking the bird
reused from his sleep, and sung low,
sweet song.
All, ma foil" exclaimed Eloise, "what
is that? All. tits Brazilian nightingale
where did mademoiselle get it? / have
not seen one in this country"
Amihe told her all of the birds history
that she knew, and Of the letter that he car
ried under his wing. A~
- ] am so troubled she said, 'to know
what Is in the letter, but | can not read