The Hickman courier. [volume] (Hickman, Ky.) 1859-current, 1881-06-10
Chorus
THE WATER LILY.


The little village of CheIston, in the
county of Hertford, might have been
termed with Goldsmith's Sweet Au-
burn" the 'loveliest of the plain,
Where smiling spring it's earliest visit paid
And parting summers lingering blooms delayed"
And ON this bright summers morning
on which our story opens it appeared
more lovely than ever, with the rich
foliage swaying beneath the clear blue
sky, the broad green meadows, and the
grazing cattle, while the gurgle of a
brooklet mingled its music with the
caroling of-birds.
Half-hidden amid a shady clump OF
trees a young artist sat painting at a
small, light easel, and the faint outlines
of distant hills and scattered hamlets
were already standing out from the can
vas in front of him.
He was apparently but little over
thirty years of age, and his face looked
grave and stern for one so young, and
bore unaccOuntable traces of some long
hidden sorrow.
He had for some time been sitting alb
sorbed in his work, ~akmost unconscious
of anything around him save the fair
sketch of landscape he was so faithfully
delineating.
The brooklet ran by him-not twenty
yards from where he was seated-and
the dappled cows lay chewing their
cuds upon Its banks, or quenching their
thirst IN its crystal waters, reminding
one Of Sidney Cooper's most perfect
pictures of cattle.
Ernest DarrelI's attention was. how
ever, suddenly arrested by new object,
and one which to his gaze was fairer
than any he had seen that morning. A
little girl, scarcely seven years of age,
was standing near the brook-she had
been gathering water-lilies, and in her
hand she held a basket containing a
number of the pure white flowers His
eyes fell upon her face, lifted wistfully
to his own, and then something like
smile broke over the little ones mouth
as she said, half shyly:
''Do come and reach me this beauty,
if you please.
Ernest Darrell was hardly sure at first
whether it was really himself she was
addressing; but no sooner was he aware
of the fact than he laid down his palette
and brushes and came forward to her
assistance
"a water-lily, is it?" he asked, glanc-
ing at her basket.
''Yes, such beauty, but so far out of
my reach, she repeated, and then stood
eagerly watching Ernest, who stretching
himself full length upon the bank sue
ceeded with his long arm in grasping
the coveted flower.
The child's delight was unbounded,
the sight of which amply rewarded him
for his trouble; but the unusual beauty
of her face and the air of childlike grace
which accompanied her every movement
completely won Ernest's heart, and he
was determined not to let her run away
just yet.
"You must give me kiss as payment
for it." he said, with a smile, lightly
passing his hand over her golden head
from which her hat had fallen. She
started back, with a vivid blush.
"Oh, no. indeed; L am great deal
tvo old to kiss you," she exclaimed.
why, am seven, and quite a young
lady
iAre you, really? Then ] am sure 1
beg your pardon" said Ernest, hardly
able to repress laugh. 'sBut at any
rate you viii tell me your name?" he
added.
''Oh, yes; my name is Lillian, but I
am nearly always called Lily" replied
the little girl, with an air of consequence.
hl1lttu-uOIilluR elScg dShcQ
"No; only that, she answered.
Surnames are generally superhuous
with children.
Then, 1 presume, the fact of your
being lily yourself makes you fond of
the flowers that bear your NAME" he
rejoined, smiling.
She laughed-a soft, silvery, happy
laugh, that fell like music upon the
Young artists ear
''Oh, / don't know; 1 think love all
flowers. but especially these" she said,
glancing down at her basket. 'sThey are
so large and pure and white, like the
white-robed angels in the stained glass
windows at church. Mamma loves then
too, because she says when L am not with
her they remind her of me"
''You are mammals pet, then and pa
pas, too, / suspect, for the matter of
that" replied Ernest, his interrupted
occupation totally forgotten in the new
pleasure he felt in conversing with the
child.
'1 haven't papa" she said, dropping
her voice; che died, oh, long before ]
can remember, but never ask about
him, because it always makes mamma
cry. Would you tell me the time,
please p
Ernest glanced at his watch. 'sNearly
i O'Clock" he told her.
''Then must bid you good bye" she
said, ''or / shall be late home" And
setting down her basket she bethought
herself of the hat, which she proceeded
to adjust ON the top of her golden
curls.
do you come here every day ?' she
asked of Ernest.
II shall be here every day for little
while" he answered her.
'Then hope will see you again, -
she said artlessly. Sand thank you so
very much for getting me the water
lily"
For q moment her little ungloved hant
rested on his own, her lips parted in an.
other smile and then she was gone. has.
toning away with all possible speed across
the sunny fields, bearing her sweet bur.
den Of howers-types Of her own pure
soul
Ernest Darrell stood gazing after her.
Was il the touch of her light fingers thai
had brought so strange thrill to hi
heart he sat down to resume his paint,