The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1873-03-30
JUVENILE COLUMN.


GILDA-A STORY THAT MAY HAVE d EHN TRUE
Gilda was twelve years old. She helped
her mother to milk the cows, and swept tho
floor, and welded the garden. and fed the
pigs, and thee whom the work was dene
rocked her baby sister Hiida in the great,
father in Gotha. Gilda could knit, and
spin little, and, above all, she was q
pious little girl, and loved tho "Holy Mo-
Their" as all good children do. But, strange
to say, Giida's one cherished devotion
seemed to be for jesus suffering. and at the
head of her little bed, in the loft, she had
hung rough picture of the thorn crowned
head that seemed very beautiful to her.
Other children loved the baby Jesas-the
sweet Christ child-the sorrowfal image of
deep and solemn for them, but Gilda shook
her wise little head, and tears filled her
great blue eyes whenever the good pastor
or her grandfather spoke of the bitter pas
sion, and the priest would pat the chiid's
shoulder as her mother told of her devo
Now, Gilda owned a black ana white
goat that cousin, mountaineer. had
given her, and she had named it Eberl.
The animal had become very much attach
cd to his young mistress, and would follow
her from place to place in her daily rounds
of labor. In the one little spot of ground
she called her garden, Gilda spent her hap
pest hours.
Coiumbines and blue bells, roses and
marigolds, all bloomed there in their differ
herbs, Gilda's especial care, often contri-
buted their perfuned leaves to the compile
tion of her Sunday nosegay.
One morning, one Palm Sunday, Gilda
arose early, and having finished her work.
she went into her garden to gather some
flowers for the "Ecce Hon:o."
"Good morning, pretty blue bell" abe
said, tripping along amid the flowers.
"Good morning. my pretty blossoms all.
Come down from your stalks little ones, let
me weave your sweetness into garland
for the head of the dear Savior" Scarlet
and pink, and purple and yellow, they lay
in her hand a mass of glowing perfume and
radiant color. Suddenly she hesitated,
and left shining blossom half pendant
from its stalk.
"They are too gay" she said, "too fra
grant. They speak toe much of joy. 1
will go to the meadow that skirts tho wood
and gather the little modest wild flowers
that grow there. Across the stream, just
on the border of the forest, are hiding tiny,
sad eyed, scentless flowers they viii! be a
more fitting frame for the hsly face. Mixed
with dark, heavy leaves they will be SO
beautiful. These smiling flowers would
mock The cruel thorns, the falling drops of
blood" The little girl spoke softly to her :
self, and taking her little cotton 'kercbief
from her neck, she tied it over the yellow
braids and passed through the garden into
the meadow beyond. 1t was large wide
field, and tiny brook ran between it and
the wood-tbe woed was 30 deep aud thick
that Gilda had never dared to enter its
depths alone. Tho pretty wild flowers
seemed to grow thicker and more varied
as she walked, the heavy green leaves that
grew beside tho water wove themselves
into natural garlands, and all the sweets and
sounds Of early spring time lured her on.
The brook was passed, the fringe of thicket
on its edge left far behind, and the shadows
of the Grimm Wald grown black and dense
before Gilda checked her pace. Suddenly
she paused, flower laden as she was, and
dropping half her wealth of blossoms upon
the green sward, exclaimed in a frightened
tone:
"Ah, me-" what foolish, thoughtlsss
child l am. "The sun must be very high
shove the meadow, for its rays are piercing
through this thick shade, aud will be late
for Mass, and mother will scold. The dear
Lord will not be pleased with the garland
when forget my duty in gathering flow.
ers." Lifting the skirt of her blue stuff
dress, she placed htG treasures in the i'm
promeu basket, and hurriedly sped along
the narrow path she had followed; but the
way seemed strange, and after while the
way marks grew less familiar, and the
shadOws darker and darker. Terror crept
over the poor child, and all the stories she
elves, came back to her with renewed snt
added my stery and fear. Through tanglt
of thicket aid overgrowth of shrubbery ne
tired feet still kept their uncertain way
tears gathered in her eyes, but she braveiy
forced them back, till at last, after hours o
fruitlSss search for the lost path, she sanl
exhausted on q clamp of NOSE that grew a
the foot of an old tree.
"It ie vesper time now" she thought. 81
must be, for am very hungry, and the!
are all looking for me, every where /; Frit
and Hans, and Otto, ard my father, too
aud maybe mother has left little Hid
with grandmother and gone out with tin
rest. Eberl is seeking me, am sure, fo
they have forgotten to feed him, and hav
not heard Mass this blessed Palm Sunday
like q little heather child. But then di
not know, did not know" Then she ga
quiet for time; but soon the shadow
grew longer and longer. the ecanty beam
of sunlight disappeared altogether, an
night crept Oh apace.
Gilda looked up at the trees, at the sky
which she could scarcely see through th
thick branches. Her feet we're tired an
awOllen and she nulled a IF her - dan shoes