The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1883-03-24
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WHITE VIOLETS-
AN EASTER OFFERING
RY RALPH DQI-GLASS
BY RALPH DOUGLASS.

BY RALPH DOUGLASS.
A very raw, bleak, backward spring
little heaps and ridges of very soied snow
fingered stubbornly along right under the
warm suns face dirty little riIs of water
ran trickling down the walls and walks,
and the air was full of chillness and mois-
ture.
The very trees seemed slow in learning
it was really spring, and their buds would
not unfold, and it seemed the world was
never to be clad again in the fresh livery
of lovely green. But the birds were pretty
full of faith, and blue-birds and robins
chirped loudly of hope and peace ahead !;
the blue-jays squalled defiance to old win
ter, and the black-birds chartered from the
tree-tops.
Little Paul Morgan said, with sigh, he
knew there was no use in looking, but yet,
Ejust for luck and the established custom,
he would 90 down into Van Dacres woods,
down into the heart of the deep, shady
dell where he and papa used to 90 for
them, and see if by any possible change
one single Violet could have blossomed.
That one spot in Van Dacre's wood was
dewy, damp, delightful place in summer
and it had always been dear to Paul, in
memory of the happy hours he had spent
there with his dear papa before that papa
died 1t so happened that the last time
they had gone there together had been the
day before Easter; and it became religi-
Gus vigil for the boy to keep to go the day
before Easter and look for the rare, white
Violets his papa had loved so dearly.
Three springs now had come and gone,
and he had never failed yet to find clus-
ter of fragrant, lovely flowers wherewith
to adorn his fathers grave on the Resur-
rection Sunday.
But this fourth season he went out with
out any hope Of success. 1t was too cold ;
there had not been enough sunny days to
coax the blossoms out, and winter held out
too long. Yet, he resolutely trudged on
through the snowy slop and heavy mud, on
down through the pastures and. over the
fences, and past desolate looking fields, and
on into the lonesome shadows of the old
wood. His merry whistle was checked, he
always felt solemn here when he came ON
this errand for the dead, as it were He
was only ten, slim lad, none too robust in
appearance, but a pleasing, gentle little fel-
low, smart and energetic, for whom great
things were expected in the future. Down
into the dusky dell he descended, and with
a sigh began to turn over the winters de-
bris of leaves and grass.
Here the melting SHOWS had gone to
cherish the MOSES which peeped forth with
a hearty green as Paul pushed away the
decayed leaves and mold; by the edges of
the splashing brook the grass grew green
and healthy looking, and in the shelter of
the big stones and boulders the bold, sturdy
dandelions brayely advanced green lances.
Here, to be sure, was faint show of spring
and growing greenery; but search as he
might, close and faithful, yet Paul could
find no show of Violets, blue or white.
Big tears filled his eyes; it seemed wicked
and cruel fairly, that he could not find one
white Easter Violet for papa's grave.
But wait and the blue eyes stared hard
through the mist in them, and his heart
rose and fell with eager hope, There was
wee, tiny gleam of white from that brown
bunch of dead leaves, deep in the middle
of the brush yonder And as he bounded
forward the touch of white increased, and
be thought
Surely, that is quite lot of the Easter
flowers "
But as he bent above it he grew bewil-
dered and puzzled; he dried his eyes care
fully to improve his vision, then he stared
the wider and harder. What was he see
ing? White Violets? No; but rather a
white soft shawl, and in that snowy bundle,
there alone, thrown away in the bushes of
that deserted old wood, was nestled a
sweetly sleeping babe
l must confess, Paul quite forgot his
Violets as he tenderly gathered the stray
up in his arms Even to his innocent boy
ish mind it was too clear that great wrong
had been DONE 1t would seem that only
by the merest accident the child was dis
covered, and it was too evident the little
one had been consigned to death.
Not soul was in sight, and with heart
full of sympathy, yes, and fear, too, Paul
fastened home with the little bundle He
was thankful, indeed, that the shadows of
evening covered him as he hurried down
the familiar street.
The baby in the bundle stirred and nest
led closer to the warm arms that shielded
it, and one tiny little fist fought through
the wrappings. Paul essayed to return the
baby hand to its warm nest, and the wee
fingers gripped his so firmly that from that
touch, from that hour on, the baby was
master, and Paul it's humble slave.
The gentle widow-mother was half fright
ened by the new charge so unexpectedly
brought to her, and sent for the village
doctor to advise with her.
Baby was dressed in finest materials, and
the doctor said, as he studied the stranger,
that the child was an aristocrat. Exquisite
hands and feet, fine thoroughbred face, a
really very fine female child. Why had
she been SO cruelty abandoned? The
simple country folks never discovered her
history, though they made all efforts, as in
duty bound
Mrs. Morgan could hardly afford to take
the care and charge of another life upon
her, though she would have cheerfully had
no other way been provided.
But Dr. Gray said he had an excellent
plan whereby two people would be greatly
benefited
Mrs. Esterton was a young woman,
quite wealthy, who had just lost her hus-
band few weeks before; her only child, a
babe about as old as the one now called