The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, 1878-06-20
Story OF n Daisy.

Far, far away, hundreds of miles from
here, in a field of growing wheat, little
daisy one day pushed its way up to all
and light.
1t was very, very tiny affair indeed,
and the wheat that stood tall and green
above it, aud bowed gracefully to the
passing breezes, were altogether toe
high-minded to notice the struggling
young creature at their feet. But the
winds paused on their way to give ten.
der kiss, and the little thing took heart,
and reached out its arms to the sun.
shine.
Days and weeks passed, and by the
time the green wheat had turned to gold
the daisy had shot up into quite vigor.
ous plant. At last, when it's loveliness
began to blossom into starry flowers, the
tall wheat did notice it in patronizinp
way.
"Pray, young FRIEND" said the most
venerable among them, "who are you r.
"I am daisy" answered the little
plant, modestly.
ga daisyl and what sort of creature
may that be? What are you good for,
anyhow9"
"I am sure I don't know" timidly
answered the plant, "unless it is to bear
these flowers. The wind oit,n tells me
they are very beautiful"
Nothing but flowers p And here the
wheat rustled rather scornfully.
My child" resumed the venerable
questioner, flowers are utterly useless
things. 1t is your duty to be useful,
not simply beautiful. You should bear
grain, as we do, for the benefit of man.
kind"
"Dear me, don't know how" cried
the little plant, in despair.
Here tall stalk of rye, who had trav-
eled from afar, and who was, therefore,
much respected by the wheat, was ap-
pealed to, and asked if he knew anything
of daisies in his country.
"Daisies - daisies p'' he repeated.
lazily, bending his long neck to look at
the plant. "Ah, yes, remember. We
have them in our country. Trashy things,
though-couldn't bear the least grain il
they tried"
That settled it. The daisy was left tc
herself and they soon forgot the insig-
niicant creature. Still she kept on
growing taller and broader, day by day,
and adorning herself with blossoms. AT
ldSt tuo UlLuo CdIue WQ6n all UQe golden
heads above her fell before the sickle, and
the daisy was left alone in the field. But
she never minded that, it was so pleas
ant just to live. Every hour of her life,
while the warm sunshine brooded low
ingly above her, or the rain touched her
with soft showers, her happiness seemed
to grow. And one day, when the dainti-
est flower of'all had blossomed out, she
whispered to herself: How glad I am
to be beautiful p
All what was that cruel iron thing
which came rushing over the ground,
tearing up earth and grass and weeds
A plough, surely. And, in a moment,
the daisy lay bruised and dying, her
roots turned up to the sun, and her
blossoms, the glory of her life, ruthless
" torn from the stem.
But warm hand picked up the little
flower, and kindly Scotch voice mur-
INJURED, "Puir thing, cut off in thy
prime | How could I be 80 cruel? I
will cen gang and write tribute to thy
memory"
And the daisy, despised by the wheat
for being merely beautiful, became the
inspiration of lovely poem by Robert
Burns, the Scottish poet. That is how
il happened those lines were written,
beginning
Wee, modest, crimson-tipped fow'r,
IhOu'St met me in an evil hour"