American citizen. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 1864-1890, 1874-07-04
VOL. XIV.

take it to the farm this evening. / re
member the pretty little girl who used to
stand at the gate. What a grief for her
parents,"
They are heartbrokcn,' said Mr.
Hunt; and yet little sympathy com
forts Them
~ in the light of the evening Miss
Marchant went up to the farmhouse
laden with white blossoms, rosebud
wreath browning her basket
| $50 up, will you." said the sobbing
farm girl. And Clara went up the stairs
into the room where the child lay.
The father and mother, plain country
people, looked up on her entrance and
| tried to thank her.
!" She was all we had" said the mother,
plaintively.
| Clara stopped and kissed the pretty,
| white face, and laid the rosewreath over
| her fair hair.
Il am so sorry for you" was all she
| could find to say, but il was quite
enough; and then she sat down and
heard from poor Mrs. May the sad, oft
repeated tale of the sudden illness and its
fatal ending.
Miss Marchant's name was beloved at
the farm from that sad evening.
The time of roses was drawing to a
close when Mr.. Hunt and Miss Marchant
next met in her pretty garden.
You must exhibit at Millfield flower
show next Saturday." said Mr.. Hunt,
pausing by standard rose. This bud
will be perfect then, judging by the open
flower near"
"That bud will be gen. said Clara,
decidedly; "but it shall not go to that
dirty, smoky Millfield; l have promised
it to young Lawrence; it is the new rose,
you know, and he was rose-fancier in
his day, poor fellOw!"
Cant you make it answer both pur-
poses?" said Mr.. Hunt. Send it to the
show, where it will certainly take the
first prize, and then give it him."
al must ask his leave" said Clara
But why should patroniZe the Millfield
show?"
Because it is your duty" said Mr..
Hunt; "you are one of the great folks
round, and you should encourage the
Millfield folk in such wholesome rccre-
alton as gardening"
Are you going." asked Clara
Certainly! l shall drive my wife
over"
Then let me take some of your children
with me-"
mo, thank you; children worry you"
said Mr. Hunt, laughing. Il am too
proud to let mine be in your way"
Nonsense ~ said Clara, blushing;
good children don't worry me-"
You shall have Mrs. Hunt and Laura,
then, the two wcll-behaved ones" said
Mr.. Hunt; and l will take my riotous
boys"
field show and won the first rose prize,
and came home full of resolve to stir
up the Barton people to rival Millfield
next year. Her roses were certainly
drawing her nearer to her neighbors, and
daily involving visit to one or another.
Poor young Lawrence had the prize
rose in a glass in his bedroom for many
a day after the show; he liked it all the
better that it had been to smoky Mill
field, where his best days were passed.
The last rose of the year, sickly
looking bud, was gathered by Clara and |
placed in his dead hand as he lay at last |
free from suffering in the cottage room. |
Il shall bless you all my life" said the |
poor weary mother. "If ever any one
soothed dying mans path to the grave,
you did"
With little Mary May and Oliver Law,
renee in the churchyard, Miss Marchant
felt she had an interest there. MIR. Hunt |
was willing to assist her in her plan of
making it the garden of the village, and
many a one came to her to ask her advice
how to make the last home of wife or
child, parent or friend, more beautiful.
And not by her flowers only did Clara
win her way to the hearts of
her poor neighbors; she had kind words
for all. Barton was no longer dull, and
she had made the discovery that there
was more than smoke in Millfield.
From the mill people she came to know
The mill-Owners, and certain pleasant
Mr.. Thornbury, of large possessions in
the place, was lucky enough to attract
The interest of Miss Marchant. In the
ensuing summer he often wore one of her
rOsebuds in his buttOn-hole, and before
winter Miss Marchant became Mrs.
ThOrnbury She was to live at Barton
still, however; her father needed her and
ler poor people could not spare her, even
f she could leave her roses.