Louisiana capitolian., 1880-03-27
TRUST AID WAIT.
Early Days.

I6UbI ALI Walt.
Early Days.
"Wby was ! ever brought here I"
cried . wild-rose stock, 10 II stood
bare aud leaAsss among \ dozen or
more beautiful trees Of the sa,nc
species, whose flowers, Of every sixe
and hue, breathed fragrance on the
mir Of the bright summer morning.
"Why was ever taken from my
native hedge-rvw, where the bees
slipped honey from my blossoms, aud
the butterflies summed themselves
among my brsncllesi"
"And who arc youi" said q beauti-
ful white rose, as she bent gracefully
forward.
~ am now . dried up, useless stick,n
replied the stock; ~ was the beauty
and pride Uf a country lane, the
delight Of the village children, and
many II tired traveller as he passed By
was refreshed by my soft fragrance.
Those happy days are over forever;
my leaves, my flowers, my branches,
oil are torn from me !; and to aggravate
my trouble, I am placed here to be
reminded by your life and beauty Of
what l was and what am"
After the stock ceased speaking,
there was y sorrowtnl pause among
her hearers; then the white rose said:
DO not he cast down, my poor
friend you are not tue only one thus
afflicted. Look at me / wns once ~
you are; l am what you may be-"
The stock only answered sadly:
'It is impossible that your sorrows
can have been rs great a. mine !; l can
not think TINT my trouble makes me
any better, but worse"
"'rhen trust," said her companion i,
"trust and watt"
"'Trust and wait" echoed they all,
and richer perfume seemed breatlIed
from their many col0red flowers; and
the breeze caught up the sound and
bore it over hill and dale to a lovely
woOd, where nightingale sat silent;
and 40 beautiful seemed the words to
the bird that, springing upward to tho
loftiest bough Of u stately elm, he
turned them into music, and the
sounds hoated back again to the garden
and were echoed in the songs Of the
thrush and the linnet, till "l'rust and
wait !" seemed whispered and warblcd
all around the stock.
"Do they all say go!" thought she;
"then will try to do it,"
BY aud by u tiny graft was inserted
by the gardener into her stem but
she scarcely noticed it.
"It makes little difference what
they do with me nOw," she Thoughts
"the old days can never RETURN"
And 40 she did, till summer faded
into autumn, and winter laid his icy
hand upon the garden. The flowers
hung their heads when they felt his
cold breath, and the leaves fell sadly
from the trees as tho autumn wind
warned them Of his approach. The
thrush and the nightingale were heard
no more but from the bare branches
where they used to sing, the same
words Of hope came to tho rOsestOck
IN the shriller tones Of the robin
for "1'rust and wait" was the burden
Of its song also.
At last winters icy reign was over,
from the hard ground the snowdrop
raised its modest head, and the pale,
sweet faces Of the prilnroscs smiled
among their broad leaves. To the
stock, too, change came; leaves
decked her once bare stem, aud now
life seemed to thrill through every
fibre.
"But my sweet blossoms are gone
forever!' she thought.
Still the returning swallows brought
the slme message as the nightingale
and robin had before, for they
twittered "Trust and wait ~ Us they
sported in the sunshine above her.
All hercomIanions sprang into flower
ut the musical call Of June, but no
bud appeared among her leaves; yet
the stock was content, for she had
almost learnt her lesson and once
more summer was succeeded by
autumn, and autumn by winter.
Winter fled vt the approach Of spring
and again all things were awakening
into life. The rose-stock was
covered with large, beautiful leaves,
and among them, unknown to any
but the dewdrOps and the sunbeams, /,
tiny bud was growing. Each day it
became larger and stronger, and yet
so gradual was it's growth, that the
stock hardly knew Of its existence.
But one morning, when the sun was
taking its first peep through tho parted
curtains Of the East, she awOke, and
there, among her leaves, rested a
lovely flower Of deepest crimson,
bathed in dewdrops, which the morn
ing sunbeams were turning into a
cluster Of gelnutcs the trees IA wild
rosc-stock no longer) gazed in wonder
ing delight at her beautiful offspring ;
then she turned towards her friend,
the white rose, and whispered softly :
Look ut the end of my waiting,
the reward Of all my trust"
No language can express the pow
er, beauty, l'croism and majesty OF Il
mothers love. 1t shrinks not when