The morning star and Catholic messenger., 1874-10-04
Mernlng Star and Catholic Messenger.
JUVENILE COLUMN.
THE BROKEN FLOWER POT.
BULwER LYTToN.
SUNDAY. OCTOBER 4. 1874.

the mouse, his book on his lap. Suddenly
beautiful blue and white fower-pot
which had been set on the window sill O
an upper story, fell to the ground with
crash, and the fragments spluttered uI
around his legs.
"Dear, dear !" cried my mother, who
was at work in the porch, "my poor flower
pot that l priced so much Who could
Mrs. Primmins came down iu u trice,
pale and breathless.
'sOh !" cried my mother mournfully, "
would rather kaye lost all the plants in
the green house: The ,poor geranium 1
reared myself! Then the dear, dear flow
er-pot Mr.. Caxton bought for me my last
birthday! That naughty child must have
done this!
Mrs. Primmins cried promptly, "No,
madam, 1t was not the dear boy, bless his
heart, it was 1.".'You F.! How could you
be SO careless And you know how I
priced them both. Oh, Primmins !"
.'Do not tell fbs, nurse" said small
voice, and Master Sisty, coming out of the
house as bold as brass, continued rapidly,
"Do not scold Primmins, mamma it was l
that pushed out the flower pot.n
"Hush ~ said nurse, more frightened
than ever, and looking aghast towards my
father. "Hush And if he did break it.,
madam, 1t was quite an accident he was
standing SO, and he never meant it. Did
you, Master Sisty Speak ! lthis in a
"HispeIJ VI pa VIII De so angry"
"Well." said my mother, 81 suppose it
was an accident; take care in future, my
child. You are sorry, 1 see, to have griev-
ed me. There is a kiss do not fret"
ono, mamma, You must not kiss me,
do not deserve it. Ipushed the flower
said my father walking up.
"For fun J" said I, hanging my head,
'.jnst to see how you would look, papa j;
and that is the truth. Now punish me,
deserve it."
My father threw his book fifty yards off,
stopped down, and caught me to his breast
"Boy," he said, ''you have done wrong
you shall repair it by remembering all your
life that your father blessed God for having
given him a son who spoke the truth in
spite of fear. Oh Mrs. Primmins, the next
fable of the kind you try to teach him, we
shall part forever !"
Not long after this event received a
present far exceeding in value those usually
bestowed on children. 1t was a beautiful
large domino box, in cut ivory, painted
and gilt. This domino box was my delight
was never weary of playing dominoes
under my pillow.
"Ah ~ said my father to me one day,
"ah I! and you like that better than ali
your play things, Ell e'-"Oh, yes, papa ~
"And you would be sorry if your mother
shonld throw your box out of the window
ingly at my father, and made no answer.
"But perhaps you would be very glad"
he resumed, "if suddenly one of those good
fairies you read of could change the domino
box into beautiful geranium in blue
and white flower-pot. and that you could
have the pleasure of putting it on your
mothers window l."-'sIndeed should"
said l, half crying.
My dear boy, 1 believe you but good
wishes do not mend bad actions /; good ac-
tions mend bad actions" So saying, he
shut the door and went away. / cannot
tell You how puzzled was to make out
what my father meant.
The next morning my father found me |
seated under tree in the garden (; he paus-
ed, and looked at me very steadily with his |
grave, bright eyes.
"My boy" eaid he, 81 am going to walk
to town-will you come = Blythe by,
fetch your domino box should like to
show it to person there" 1 ran in for
the box, and not little proud of walking
with my father on the high-road, set out
with him.
"Papa," said I, by the way, A'tbere are
no fairies now."-"What then, my child 2"
,"Why, how then can my domino box be
white fiower-pot ~
="My DEAR" said my father leaning his
hand on my shoulder, ''every body who is
n earnest to be good. carries two fairies
about him-one here" and he touched my
orehead "and one here" and he touched
ny heart.-"I do not understand, papa
Il can wait till you do, Sisty."
My father stopped at a nursery garden,
'efore a large double geranium. "Ah, this
8 finer than the one. your mamma was
o fond of. What is the cost, sir f"-
Only seven shilllngs and sixpence," said
he gardener. Ny father buttoned up his {
'ocket. 81 cannot afford it day." said {
e gently, and we walked out. c
On entering the town, we stopped again t
t q china warehouse. "Hsve you flow S
r r-potlike thatI bought some months ago f
Ab, here is one marked three shillings and
ixpence. Yes, that is the price. Well,
7hen your mothers birth day comes again,
re must buy her another. This is some
lonths to wait. And we can wait, Sisty. s
or truth, that blooms all the year round, I
J better than poor geranium and b
ord that is never broken, is better than \
iece of delf G