The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1879-06-04
BUT O r THIS.

per-"
"God only knows, child
perhaps I'd better pray for some
then" said little Jane Blair. solemnly:.
Really l think you had,' said Mill
cent, in 4 soft tone.
There she sat, staring into the little
fire on which their last atom of wood
was burning, and seeing in the red ashes,
INTO which the light wood dropped SO
quickly, pictures of the past. They had
never been rich people, but always COM
Portable.
Her father was q seafaring man-hrSt
mate of an ocean vessel-and her mother
a tidy housewife, who made everything
bright and coy. How he used to sit
telling his adventures to them when he
was ut home.
He would not have been a sailor had
there not been sea serpents and mer-
maids in them, but nothing was too
wonderful for those loving folk at home
to credit; and indeed he probably be-
lieved them himself.
The rooms hal been pretty with
shells and coral branches, and bright
parrots in swinging cages and pictures
of ships upon the wall.
1t lad been so different from this
wretched place in which the two girls
now lived.
But that was not all; the love was
~gone-the tender care that parents have
for their children.
The mother lay in her green grave in a
far-of cemetery; and who can point the
place of a shipwrecked sailors grave?
Sue remembered so well how he sailed
away that last time--how they looked
after him, her mother and herself-how
they waited for news, and waited If vain,
until at last there came to them a sailor,
saved from the wreck of the Flying
Scud," who told how she went down in
mid-seas at the dead of night, ablaze
from one end to the other; and how
Roger Blair, the first mate, was among
the missing.
After that, poverty and sorrow; de-
parture from the dear ola home; toll in
a strange city, sickness, friendlessness,
and, browning woe of all, the mothers
death.
The girl had done her best for her lit
tie sister ever since, but she was not a
very skillful needlewoman, and could
not earn as much as some Others; and
now work had given out altogether, and
she, pretty and sweet and good, and
helpful in n daughterly way about the
house, was not quite sure that she could
win bread for two in any way-bread
and shelter and fire.
She was only seventeen, and 4 frail
little creature, WITH very little strength
in her small body, and now that matters
,,,a,.n ca bod who non p-nnnQr that che
almost despaired?
Il suppose it isn't quite supper time
yetr said little Jane again. She had
peer on her knees behind the bed for a
long while. Il wonder whether He
knows how hungry / am?"
"What shall l do?" said Millicent to
herself, as she looked about the room.
II have sold everything-the clock, the
books, wen mothers work-boX and the
parrot. There is nothing left. The
child will starve before morning. Oh,
what shall | do.
She arose and went to the window,
and looked down into the street. 1t was
dirty and narrow, and swarmed with
lilthy children.
Opposite wa a little drinking shop,
about which 4 blind man with a fiddle
drew II profitless audience.
Nothing sweet or fresh or pure met
her eye there, but between that scene
and herself u sudden breeze blew q
beautiful screen, and there was waited
20 her through the broken glass IN ex-
Yuisite perfume.
On the sill without stood u rose in q
broken teapot.
She had picked up the slip among the
rubbish cast out by a ncighboring gar
dencr. and it had grown well in its
handful Of earth.
To-day it had bloomeh: 4 perfect rose.
exquisite in shape. perfume and color,
dropped from the stem, and beside it 4
half-blown bud gave promise of another
Hover rs lovely.
Until this moment Millicent, in her
anxiety. had forgotten her one treasure.
But for L gentle shower that had fallen
that morning. it might have withered
where it stood, for she had not even
watered it,.
. Now u bright thought fitted through
her mind.
She had often seen children selling
overs in the street, and ladies and gen
ticmen seemed glad to huy them.
She wouid force herself to be cour-
ngcouS.
She would go out into the street with
.his rose and its bud. and some one
would give her enough 10 buy a loaf of
bread, or ut least 4 roll for little Jane.
She would do it-she would.
God would give her strength.
She tied on her hood and wrapped her
shawl about her, and plucking the flower
and a leaf or two, and that bright bud,
that seemed perhaps the fairer of the
two, babe Jane be good and wait for her,
and went down stairs and out from. the
dingy cross street into Broadway.
There every one save herself seemed
gay and happy. and well-dressed.
She seemed to beathing apart-a black
blot in all this brightness.
She stood ut Il corner and held out her
flower, but it seemed that no one needed
her.
At last she gathered courage to touch
one Of the ladies that passed, and say:
Buy a rose, ~lady-buy a rose! Please
buy arose."
But the woman hurried by rs the rest
had.
1t would not do to stand still.
She walked out Slowly.
Whenever she. caught a pleasant eve
she held out her bouquet, and repeated
her prayer:
Buy a rose? buy rosem
But the sun was setting and she was
opposite the City Hall Park, and still no
one had bought her flower.
She was growing desperate.
Some one should buy it.
Jane'shou!d have bread that night.
Buy Il rose! See! Look at it! See
how pretty it is" she cried, in n voice
sharpened by hunger and sorrow.
Look! You don't look at it, or you'd
buy it."
"Tllese street beggers should be sup
pressed" said the stout mar she had
addressed. young woman, I'll give
you in charge if you don't behave your
self"
He don't know, he don't know"
said Millicent to herself. Nobody
could guess how poor we are. Oh, what
u hard. hard worldm
Then she went on, not daring to speak
again, and her rose dropped a little in
her fingers, and Still nc n seemed dis
posed to buy it.
In her excitement she had walked
further than she knew.
She was far down Broadway, and be-
fore her was the Bowling Green, with
its newly-trimmed grass plot and its
silvery fountain.
A little further on the Battery, newly
restored to its pristine glory. ard on it's