, 1878-05-17

There las trembling and mcdinting
Uu1n rash plans ut escape vlju,y wish
my .,tcr Alice Wa, with me, or that
Va, anywhere else, when | heard low,
musical voice cNcRim How are YOU
to-day, my sweets
Aha here wa, discovery, indeed ,
Company had never known of a sirglc
soul who visited her. Who could it be,
At the peril ut immediate discovery
could not resist the temptation 10 peep.
Poor lone soul. looking out of your
wrctchci tenement, Yes, poor, lone
soul, whom all the world had forsakcn.
You were seeking comforts IN the Mas.
ter'- lowiy gifts.
There she wa., that wrcichcd old hag,
kucellng in the long grass, carcssing
lovingly the wild flowers that grew IN
great luNuriaucc about the hut
/ | heard her say "Oh, my swcets, my
pretty crimson clovers, butter.cups and
daisies. You're all out to-day, full
blown, saw YOU the first thing this
morning shaking your bonny heads in
| the sunshine as the wind went tossing
] d
mer, my precious ones; how came you
to come and blossom so sweet Just to
please old Margery! but you amt
afraid of her, oh no. Margcry wouldn't
hurt you, for the world She only looks
at you, and you kinder help her from
being all alone. You don't know. my
pretties, what an awful thing it is
to be all alone, always ali alone,
with no one to care whether you
lived or died. No, you can't know
how it is, when you're gene and the
wind hOwls around the hut, or how
keep praying the good Lord to hasten
the summer and send you back. Twas
always SO; no one could ever bear Mar
gerry; her poor old shoulder and the
great hump on her back were always
against her. The old hag,' they call
me, even the little children, my sweets.
| wish they wouldn't, for love them so
why, crimson clover, | would be ready
to die tomorrow for very joy, if one
Mould come and kiss me, and say 'how
dye do, MargeryP But oh no; that
can't be, they are afraid Of nc; afraid
of mew
Reader, | was sinless little child
then; if had been olderI should proba-
bly, have stifled under the cloak of pride
and seltishness the noblest impulse of
my life. But, thank God! | did not, for
withouta a moments hesitation climbed
the fence and with tears of sympathy
streaming down my cheeks, 1 caught the
old creatures hand in mine and said, as
I bent and kissed her, Glow dye do,
Margery3"
Great God forgive us how shall we
ever answer for these poor neglected
souls that the kiss of child can so over
Gomez She gazed upon me for several
moments in mute astonishment, then
burst out sobbing and laughing alter
nately, saying over and over to the
senseEess flowers: "She did tiny sweets
Just think, can you believe2 Some one
has really kissed Margery and said, 'how
dye dor"
She has been dead this many year;
the old hut tumbled in ruins long ago;
the people of the village have ceased to
speak of her. She was alwaysa wonder to
them, "the queer old hag." They looked
at her outwardly; no one even dreamed
beautiful soul lay hid in such a rough
casket But knew it and learned to
love her well.
The day she died-oh, such beautiful
day--the daisies, buttercups and covers
how they swung their heads aud peeped
in at the old door! All day long she lay
with one hand locked fast in mine. At
sunset, when the yellow rays streaked
the crimson banners hung in the west,
the angels came (they were not ashamed).
She heard them, the beautiful soul came
up and looked out of its prison windows
with such glad look, such as the pris-
oner wears when, after dreary years of
darkness, the iron bars fall and the door
of his cell swings back, letting in the
blessed sunlight once more.
dressed the poor, worn body for the
grave, smoothed back the tangled hair
filled the tired hands full of her flowers.
In q stony corner Of the graveyard,
overgrown with briars and nettes, they
made her grave. No one had been
buried in that part for years, it was so
desolate and nothing would grow there,
but it was good enough for au sold hag."
A wooden mark was erected and many
scotfed when l begged them to put Mar
gerry on it.
l was called away soon after her death
and did not return until the following
summer One morning entered the
graveyard for the express purpose of
placing few flowers on the grave in the
desolate corner. What was my surprise
to behold it, There above, and all
around it, "her sweets" were growing,
tossing their crimson white and yellow
heads, saying plainly, we've followed
you, Margeryr My poor flowers were
not needed, saw in minute,so placed
them on rich old granny Markham's
grave, which looked singularly bare for
all the costly monument which cast its
shadow over it, thinking to myself, God
was Margery's only friend while she was
on earth. He sent the simple wild
flowers to cheer her here, and now he
has sent them to cover her grave.
Year after year they come, more lux