Litchfield enquirer., 1878-11-21
ROSE AND CHILLY.
THE sToRY- OF TWO TRUE FRIENDS.

E.f' n a { 1 .a ..we still have slept together,
 And wheresoe'-r went, like Jano's swans.
 l still went we coupled and inseparable. i .s faE@ws8 fs.As You Like II, " Act I: Scene HI
 G!GilIy,, do you say ?" asked the good old Doctor Wentworth. "'Gilly? Isn't that an ! odd name for your baby. Mrs Sanderson :" 1 Perhaps so,' murmured the fraii young i mother in weak, trcnulous tones .'but want
 to name her for flower. and my gillidowers have been such comfort to me all through l the trying spring and summer. They are so 1 bright and enduring and strong and hopeful ; l just the salme by night or by day, whether the sun shines, or the rain falls. They are every day flowers, it is true, doctor, but my little girl here will have to lead an every day life 1 and 1 hope she will be strong and helpful girl ,ene that will brighted up all her surround 1 ings What is that ?"-as a messenger came l to the door of the little cottage.
 ''The doctor is wanted immediate-up al
 tine squire's house, " said the boy.
 1 Tel her, please, doctor continued the young m ther, as the kind-hearted, skilful old I physician, hat in hand bent over her for g moment, ''that she will llnever know what hap piness is until she lies, as l do now, with 8
 baby on her arm"
 .;Oh, my rose! my tiny blush rose! sighed l Mrs. Squire Forestwaite on the evening of the
 same day, putting one finger of her small white 1 hand tenderly on the pink cheek of the baby 1 that had just been placed at her side. ''How l soft and fine and delicate she is! She will need dainty handling-dainty handling, moth er's precious, little fragrant blush rose J" Then 1 feebly smiling up to Doctor Wentworth she whispered, ''Tell Mary Sanderson, if you will
 what treasure the good Lord has entrusted 1 to my careAand, doctor, if there is anything 1 wanted for Mary's comfort, please tell them
 they are to send here fer It."
 1.-Two beautiful, unselfish, Christian women,
 they were on level to-day, said Doctor Went
 worth to his wife as he drank his tea. ''One can but wonder what the future of the two flower named babes, born on the same day and 1 into such different spheres of life, will be" .SThey have both entered into the blessed 1 life above, and their babes only week cid to- day!" said Mrs. Weatherby, pausing a mo ment in the blue, sunny. autumn air before her l neighbor Browns open door, wiping her eyes with the corner of her check apron as she spoke. had only just got through with eve l rythng at poor David Sanderson's when they came for me to go up the hill and help lay cut the squires wife. Dear me! dear me! don't see as money makes bit of difference in cases like this. The squire and his garden | CT are on a level to-day. The two babies are
 
 the other dark. And had you heard, Miss
 Brown, that they were both named for flow CTS? Wasn't it strange? But then, it's just as the minister's wife said this morning-Mary Sanderson was every inch lady, and had just as sweet thoughts about her first baby as if l she had been born to and lived in the splendor of mansion Ike Mrs. Forestwaite's.
 ''How the dear little blossoms grow!" said Squire Forestwaite, as, one lovely spring morn- ing, he led his three year-old daughter, a dain- ty blush rose indeed, in soft pink and white merino and zephyr, down the garden path, was spading up the moldy beds and borders
 "The dear little things are always glad to see each other," said the gardener, smiling tenderly at the children as he pulled off his faded cap and wiped the moisture from his forehead with the sleeve of his checkered frock. Hook at that, now,' as wee toddling Rose let go her fathers hand with little gur- gle of delight, and with outstretched arms stumbled toward little, brown, sturdy gilly in TSs w anah dfss tsaf was Ike music fed out her hard, plump arms, caught the fraii lit tie beauty just in time to save her from fall, and gave her hearty hug
 Children generally stand in silence and look at each other shyly for little," said the squire, philosophically ''Now my blush Rose is as shy as bird with every one but your Gillifower, tell you, David, there is natur- al sympathy between the two bereaved little
 .'So there was between their poor mothers in those last dreadful days as you must well remember, sir" said the gardener, wiping his eyes. "My Mary often asked for Mrs. Forestwaite and she, sweet lady, almost with her last breath enquired for poor Mary"
 The substance of this conversation was ire quently gone over with by these two sorrow ing men from the time they met each with his tiny baby in his arms and walked under the lawn trees on sunny Sunday mornings, until the two little girls were old enough to follow the garden paths by themselves, from cottage to mansion and from mansion to cot tage-up the hill and down, down the hill and up.
 In their waking hours the children were constant companions. They rode with David in the have and in the business wagon, and they drove with the squire in the shining car riage under soft robes, after the long-tailed black span, and were equally happy in one ve- hicle as in the other. They were petted the same by every one, high and low, in the village, and were called ''poor little things until they must have believed the name belonged to them belonged to them by right. a'
 ''I don't want to learn my letters at home any more, papa; you can give my blocks to the pigs" /" said Rose one day to ther father as the two little girls, in full health and beauty, came hand in hand, chuckling and consequen- tial, of the veranda through the low, open window into the squire's library. "Gilly is going to school in the village, and shall have to go too, because can't get along without her all day long, every single day. want book with green covers and dinner pail that shines-one that can see my face in long one way and wide the other; and want sun bonnet that is stiff and pink" 37
 So it happened that the good natured, dem ocratic squire gave no heed to the remonstran- ces of Miss Esther, his sister, who had charge of his household; the required outfit was pro- vided, and for half a dozen years or more, the tie of love that bound these children grew closer day by day. They sat upon the same bench in the plain, little red school house, studied from the same books, ciphered out their arithmetical examples on the same slate, and were as happy and sweet and bright as a rose and a gllllhower growing side by side in the same garden bed. H ------ Then David's second wife met with an ac- cident, which injured her in such way that she would never step again, and would have to divide the remainder of her life between her bed andher rm-chair. Now Gilly's every day life of housework, needlework and looking after Tom, the bright little hall. brother, be- gan And Rose; she was sent to Madam Las salle's boarding school in the city 100 miles away. The tender, childish friendship be- tween the two girls abated not one whit. how ever. Squire Forestwaite, in his quiet way, saw to it that Gilly was never out Of stationery and postage stamps, and heartily enjoyed walking down to the cottage to exchange his own weekly letter from his absent Rose fer the one which the gardeners daughter had re- ceived. The moment Rose arrived home, at vacation, she rau down the hill to embrace her twin flower, and declared that among all the dear girls she had become acquainted with not one was so sweet and perfect and charming as her own Gilly. 2a4 sa ''I have finished these, so brought them | to you" said Rsse, simply, at the end of her first quarter, placing two or three of her school books on the little round table of the cottage sitting-roOm assss13us sFosIs bs1Elig1 a!slt3 'Oh, how thoughtful of youln exclaimed
 Gilly eagerly. "What good fairy put the idea
 into your bright little head ?" aa : ,7ahHob
 There were no long drawn plans. ner much