The Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1877-1885, 1883-04-30
TRAILING ARBUTUs.

et4t WI ia IN SUI II II Leu JlIClI
rest. They are useless, unsightly dead
let them also be forgotten, or at least
ignored. BY meddling with them you
only raise blinding, choking dust, and
You bring back no warmth; not even a
| remembrance OF the flame Nothing
| comes uf 1t but Just such a shock as we
ali feel at the sight of deaths head.
We know what it must once have been;
but the mind cannot go back to that, and
| is only occupied with what it IS.
looked up to see what Harry could
mean; for, sitting in my low chair be-
fore the open fi-s,, | had been absently
PLAYING with the poker, patting the ashes
| into little hills and valleys. did he mean
| to moratiZa over that. orwaS he referring
to past ofsour own which we never
mentioned now; although Harry and [
| were still friends: and since his return
from wandering all around the world he
had fallen back toan old habit of spend
| ing an occasional afternoon in my pref
| ty room, where the lights and colors
| suited his artistic eyes; and the repose-
ful chairs aided convers alton, or silent
| dreaminess to silence.
But he was standing now leaning on
the mantel. and looding steadily, not at
my unromaniic poker, but into the glow
ing blaze.
Harry" | answered. II feel that YOU
are all wrong. Ashes, dead themselves,
yet servo the living. Aren't they used
to make white clover, sweet white clov-
| er, thrive and bloom? and aren't they
| thrown over ice in winter time to keep
people from falling in slippery places?
| Do You call that poor use? Edare say.
L continued, as | saw an amused smile
| culver round his mouth. Il dare say it
seems n poor use, and may sound very
| funny to you after your soaring poetry,
| but the comm0ne5t uSes are praiseWoTthy
when they are good; yes, and song
worthy, too, | insist. >
In the old 'arbutus days 1 might
have thought SO, - he said, signing, as he
| took up his hat to 90. when our dead
ones fell to ashes in the same ffame-
| you. remember the day we burned them
I fell into a belief in ashes generally;
l believe | fell into heap of ashes my
| self
My heart gave panied thump. Who
| was stirring dead things now? Not /,
| but he, himself. But, suddenly, knew
| what had started it all. 1t was Helen
| Eliot's Easter card, that lay on my little
| table. Not prize card, nor wonder
| full design at all; only branch of trail
| ing aIbutQs, dewy. white and pink-tip-
/ ped with the words. Il BELIEVE IN THE
/ RESI- ERECTION OF THE DEAD. . l rose,
| too, and looked at it silently for a mo-
ment; then | said solemnly, Under the
| dead leaves in the woods the arbutus is
| fresh and sweet to-day" CHANGING up
/ saw his pale face family flushed,
| and, the double significance of NY words
| coming to me, fastened to add lightly,
| before he could reply: And when ashes
are swept away we have-what? Not
| emptiness and cold hearth, unless we
| will it SO; but new warmth, light. hame,
| cheer Put down your hat, old friend,
| and stay to see the charming girl who
designed this pretty card. She IS COM
| inc for a cup of tea at five You will
! ike her Come; an artists time is his
| own, aud her face is worth seeing.
| Brown hair dead-leaf color, falls over
her brow; and below, her soft face, white
and pink, is just this flower itself. -
Her eyes viii spoil it all, he answer
| ed. with faint interest, as he laid down
his hat. '.by being blue
..Wrongi" l cried, triumphantly.
Two more dead leaves, with sunlight
shining through, ike the eyes some poet
! has sung.
Like your own. then" he said, in a
low tone.
Not so,' l replied Rains of tears
| have left mist that clouds the sunlight
now But let us talk about Helen. Her
ewes are sweetest eyes were ever
| II IN tired of that quotation, he in
terrtpted; sand besides, those eyes were
blue Can | help your
| was unfolding my prettiest tea-cloth
Helcn's gift to me.
| Good" he remarked with satisfac-
! ton. Brown. But what Are the
| wrecks of the past to rise before us all
day. More arbutusr'
| s.HeIen is fond If the flower; and, be-
sides, if I mus tell you, il came about
bv one of those flower-choosing games.
She and chose the same, and since then
we have been close friends. Set these
cups down carefully, now. please, and
then ring the bell for the urn. l usual
" take care OF this set myself, because
Helen painted it for me-
yet more arbutus, and yet more, y he
murmured forgetting all about the bell
in his admiration of the dainty wreaths,
sprigs and scattered bloom.
II hope the girl won't come" he said
at last, abruptly. Il hate her already
for stealing my flower from me-
Again what did Harry. mean?
| THE pink was my own. you remem-
her," / answered, rashly. ''Only this
white was yours.
| but the blended are the pfelGleSt,
he returned Pink and white on one
; STEM"
| was silent. / felt vaguely uneasy,
and the subject was growing dangerous.
True, l had been engaged to Harry,
once; but that was ten years ago now,
and the distance is long between nine
teen and twenty-nine. Matters must
rest He ought to marry young and
1 pretty wife Helen-yes, Helen, would
4 be the very one. And how glad l should
be to have them for my friends always.
And Just then Helen entered. She had
been helping with Easter decorations at
the church, and she had came IN bright
and cheerful. i saw at once that Harry
admired her; for it was not long before
the gloom which had possessed HIM all
the afternoon vanished; and when she
got up, saying she must return to finish
her work, he proposed that we should 60
back with her to assist. Pleading Wearl-
ness. / declined, and they went OF to
gether, while I, leaning back restfully
to rejoice over the quick success OF my
scheme, looked long and earnestly into
4 tho fro until II turned fr0m red To gray,