Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, 1883-05-05

lions she could spare from her lovely gar
den.
A sunny smile lighted up the pale
face.
"Thee is more than welcome to my
poor, old-fashioned posies. l only wish1
had some finer ones to send. But I was
saying to Bother, only this morning."
she added, chat l would like to take a
bunch of these CHEEKY little pansies to
some one who loved them as we'll as L"
We had been walking down the garden
path as we talked, and were now stand
ing just before the gay, bright bed of
pansies and tulips.
the old lady began to clip her flowers
| with 80 liberal a hand that Kate was
forced to exclaim: ooh! don't. Don't
| give us so many. You are too kind.
You will ruin your beautiful plants"
"Nay, my DEAR" she answered, with a
quiet smile. "They will only blossom
the better; and then I want thee to take
some branches of this fragrant apple
bloom. They might comfort some one.
They always seem to me like the sweet
promises Of Gods Holy Word"
Next day, when I was helping Katie
tie up the little bouquets, 1 laid aside
one little branch of the pink and white
blossoms for a poor young mother who
was lying at the point of death.
eff it wasn't for the babies l would be
glad to CO." she had whispered to me, as
1 stood by her bedside; 'sbut oh! it just
breaks my heart to think of leaving
them," and her eyes wandered anxiously
round the room, until they rested on the
besotted brute of a husband, who was
~sullenly smoking his pipei in the corner.
1 assured her the children should be
tenderly cared for; but her look of an
guish and despair had haunted me night
and day.
Now the dear old lady's words came
back to me-"Ihey might comfort some
one. They seemed like Gods sweet prom
ises"-and, with the Dough of fragrant
blossoms in my hand, l fastened down
the narrow alley.
The sick woman lay in a heavy stupor
when 1 entered the room; but, as 1 put
the flowers into her hand, she suddenly
opened her eyes.
"oh! those beautiful, beautiful apple
blossoms!' she cried, excitedly. "Where
did they come from? Why, they take
me right back to the country, and l
haven't been there since I was a little bit
of a child"
Men I told her about the pretty, old
fashioned garden where they grew, and
the sweet-faced Quaker lady, who loved
them SO because they seemed to her like
the good Gods promises.
The poor little mother burst into tears.
"'Seedtime and harvest, summer and
winter shall not fail,'" she murmured to
herself, as her thin white fingers toyed
with the fragrant petals. "Surely, if
the great Father takes such care of the
frail spring blossoms, He will not forget
my little ones"
That night, with her hands tightly
clasping the withered flowers, she passed
away; but there was such a peaceful
smile on the wan face 1 felt sure the
troubled heart had, at last, found rest.
81 have some prettier posies for thee,
this flower day'-lillies of the valley
and hyacinths, if thee would like them"
l was on my way home from the house
that death had entered, and was 80 alb
sorbed in my thoughts that I did not at
first hear the soft low voice. The words
were repeated, and, looking up, I found
to my establishment, that l had mistaken
the gate and was walking right into nv
neighbours garden. l stopped to apollo
gize, to tell the good lady it was not an
other flower day yet; and then I stopped
a little while longer, to tell her about the
apple blossoms and the touching scenes 7
had just witnessed.
"The poor motherless babes!" she ex-
claimed; "and thee said they were twins?
The dear little creatures. I must tell
Brother aboutthem."
The next evening Kate Edmunds
rushed into my room with flushed cheeks
and beaming eyes.
cite just like a story book, for all the
world" she began, and then, in her eager,
impulsive way, she told me the whole
story.
II was there, you see, when the old
lady and her brother came down. We
were getting the babies ready to take to
the Children's Home, until some other
arrangement could be made-and they
were both screaming at the top of their
lungs. No; they were not looking their
prettiest, you may be sure, the poor,
scraggy, red-faced little creatures. But
that didn't seem to make a bit of differ
ence to these good Samaritans. They
said they wanted to adopt them both,
and, while they were waiting to see the
father, the strangest thing happened.
The old lady was looking over some
books that lay upon the table, when he,
sleeve accidently brushed off a pile of
rusty daguerreotypes.
Her brother stopped to pick them up,
and, as his eyes fell upon one of them, /
saw a strange look pass over his face.
GOOD Godl" he exclaimed under his
breath. "Can it be p~ossible~ Then,
turning to me, he said, in a husky voice,
but so low that the old lady could not
hear him: "Will thee be so good as to
tell me the name of this personw
looked at the picture, supposing it
might be one Of the poor mother; but no.
1t was the face of a young and very
beautiful girl-a face, I was quite sure /
had never seen before.
Just then the door opened, and the
father came in. The old gentleman took
him aside, and, Of course, the mystery