The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1879-05-08

fingers, and still no one seemed disposed
to buy it.
In her excitement she had walked fur
ther than she knew.
She was far down Broadway, ,and befor,
her was the Bowling Green, with it,
newly-trimmed grass plot and its silvery
| fountain.
A little further on the Battery, newly
restored to its pristine glory, ana on it,
benches some blue-bloused immigrants
with round, Dutch faces, and their bare
headed wives with wooden petticoats and
little shawls crossed over their bosoms
and knOtted at the waist.
AS they stared about them, it struck
the girl that they, fresh from the sea-
might be tempted by the fresh sweet rose
she held in her hand, to spend few pen.
nies; but when she offered it to them,
she saw they were more prudent.
They only shook their heads solemnly,
and looked away from her.
And this last hope gone, despair seized
upon Millicent.
She sank down upon bench and began
to weep bitterly.
The twilight was deepening.
She was far from home and little Jane.
She was faint with weariness and hun
ger.
Beyond the present moment all seemed
an utter blank to her.
She covered her face with her hands;
the rose dropped into her lap unheeded.
She cared for it not more.
Fate was so much against her that no
one would even buy beautiful flower
like that of her.
There were steps.
She needed them not.
There were voices.
1t mattered not to her.
Suddenly some one said:
"What beautiful rose"
And the words caught her ear.
She looked up.
Three or four seafaring men, with bun
dies in their hands, were passing by,
fresh from the ocean evidently, en-
Drowned with the sun and wind, and
with the ships roll still in their gait.
Sailors were always generous. One of
these would buy the flower.
She held it out.
"Buy it, please" she whispered, family.
"Please buy this rose"
'Tm glad to get it," said a stout, ell
derby man, slipping forward. "Whats
the price, my lass? win that dog'
He tossed three or four foreign-looking
silver pieces into her lap and took the
flower.
Then looking at her very closely, he
spoke again:
"What's the trouble, lass? Don't be
afeared 10 tell me- / had a little girl of
my own once. She's dead now. Tell me,
can | help your
Millicent looked up.
The mans face was half hidden by his
hat, and he was stouter and grayer than
her father had been, but she fancied a
likeness.
"You have helped me, sir" she said,
"by buying the rose. Thank you very
much. My father was a sailor, too, and
he was shipwreckcd."
'It's sailors fate" said the man.
dts time you were getting home, lass.
This city is no place for young girl to
be out in after night. But Just wait. A
sailors orphan has claim on sailor,
and my poor little Milicent would have
been about your age if she had lived"
"Miliccnt" screamed the girl. "Oh,
my name is Mllicent. Pm frightened. |
don't know what to think. You look like
him-you. I'm MilHcent Blair. My fa-
ther was Roger Blair. II is dream? 1t
can't be true, 1t can't be my fatherr'
But the next instant he had her in his
arms, and she knew that the sea had
given him back to her.
Wrecked with the vessel, but not lost,
he had been cast upon a desert island,
whence he escaped after three weary
years, only to find his little home empty
The widow had left her little cottage
to earn her living in the city, and the
news of her death had been brought back
to her old home by some one who had
been in New York when she died
and who had either heard or imagined
that he heard that her children were
dead also.
And the news was told to Roger Blair
Wy hlluiy ptpplC wiz pcllSNcu ~ tlloI-
oughly, and he had borne il as best he
could, and had sailed the sea again,
weary, art-broken man.
He had not found all his treasures, but
that some were spared was more than he
had ever hoped; and the meeting be-
tween father and daughter was like that
between two arisen from the dead.
And 50 the rose bush had done more
for Millicent than she could have dreamt;
and to this day it is the most cherished
treasure in the little home where the old
man lives with his two daughters; and
when, once a month, its blossoms fill the
air with their fragrance, they crowd
about it as about the shrine of some
sainted thing, and whisper
"But for this we should still be
parted"
Becoming overheated while playing at
football, took a chill, which produced
90, al .l.,.l