Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1881-06-23
Select Story.
THE WATER LILY.

The little village of Chelston, 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 morn
ing on which our story opens it ap-
peared more lovely than ever, with the
rich foliage swaying beneath the clear
blue sky, the broad green meadows,
and the grazing cattle, while the CUR
gle of brooklet mingled its music
with the caroling of birds.
Half hidden amid shady clump of
trees 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
canvass in front of him. Il.
He was apparently but little cover
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
absorbed IN his work, almost uncon-
scious of anything around him save the
fair sketch of landscape he was so
faithfully delineating.
The brooklet ran by him-not twen-
ty yards from where he was seated
and the dappled COWS lay chewing
their cuds upon its banks, or quench-
ing their thirst in its crystal waters, re-
minding one of Sidney Coopers most
perfect pictures of cattle. g..
Ernest Darrells attention was, how
ever, suddenly arrested by new OBJ
ject, and one which to his gaze was
iairer than any he had, seen that morn
ling. A little girl, scarcely seven years
l'of age, was standing near the brook
she had been gathering -hhes,
and in her hand she held basket, con
tanning a number Of the pure white
flowers. His eyes fell upon her face,
lifted wlstfully to his own, and then
something like smile broke over the
little ones mouth as she said, half shy
ly: -
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 for
ward to her assistance.
"A water-lily, is it?' he asked, glanc-
ing at her basket.
Yes, such q beauty, but SO far out
of my reach, she repeated, and then
stood eagerly watching Ernest, who
stretching himself full length upon the
bank succeeded 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 a kiss as pay
ment for it, he said, with smile,
lightly passing his hand over her gold
en- head from which her hat had fallen.
She started back, with vivid blush.
oh, no, indeed am great deal
too old TO kiss you, she exclaimed.
why, I am seven, and quite a young
lady
Are you, really? Then I am sure I
beg your pardon, said Ernest, hardly
able to repress laugh. But at any
rate you will 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 conse-
quence.
'Lilian--nothing else" asked Ernest.
No, only that she answered.
Surnames are generally superfuous
with children.
Then, I presume, the fact of your
being lily yourself makes you fond of
the flowers that bear your name he
rejoined, smiling. ess
She laughed soft, silvery, happy
laugh, that fell like music upon the
young artists ear.
oh, l don't know; I think I love all
flowers, but especially these she said,
glancing down at her basket. They
are so large and pure and white, like
the white-robed angels in the stained
glass windows at church. Mamma
loves them too, because she says when
I am not with her they remind her of
me-
You are mammals pet, then and pa
pas too, 1 suspect, for the matter OF
that, replied Ernest, his interrupted oc.