Connecticut western news., 1884-07-09
Fading Flowers.
BY T. S. ARTHUR,

One day, when child, said cheer ful-minded friend, who had passed over more than two-thirds of the time usu- ally allotted to man on earth, I went into the field and gathered a bunch of beautiful wild flowers, which I placed in vase on the mantle-piece. To my eyes they were beautiful, and many times during the few hours that passed till evening, did come from my play to look at them. I had gathered and ar ranged them.-they were mine-and therefore the more highly prized.
 Early tho next morning l arose, and dressing myself, went to look at my floral treasures. Alas they had with cred away, and hung with dropping heads over the side of the glass in which had placed them. A few curled leaves, almost co!orless, lay upon the floor, and upon some of them careless foot had trodden.
 For a moment I stood bewildered; then shrunk away into corner of the room and commenced weeping and sob- bing bitterly. My all of earthly happi- ness seemed wrecked. My kind mother q shall never forget her, nor her early lessons of loye) came in while my young heart was trembling in its sorrow, and taking my hand, as she sat down by me, inquired ln an anx- ious tone, the cause of my grief.
 "My fowers," said I, sobbing more bitterly; 1t was all that my tongue could articulate.
 Her mothers heart comprehended, the moment her eye caught my faded blos- soms, the whole weight of my childish aff1lction. She dd nosepeak for few minut,s, but raised me up and laid my head upon her bosom. The fond action calmed my infant transports of sorrow, and 1 soon looked up composedly into her face; she smiled on me with smile a mothers countenance can only wear; but well remember now that tear was on her cheek.
 I thought it strange at the time that my mother should weep; but can now we'll imagine her feelings, as the little in cident I have mentioned threw her thoughts upon the future and brought before her mind, in sad array, the many disappointments that would crowd my path, of which this one was but gentle prelude.
 She looked placidly on my face for 6 moment, which was upturned to hers, and then assuming serious tone, i'm planted in my young mind one of hel first lessons of patience and endurance a lesson which has never been forgotten
 "My dear child," said she, q am sorry that your flowers have faded; but yor know there are many more in the fields and much prettier ones in the garden You can gather new bouquet.
 ''But gathered them, mother," saiG I, "and liked them flowers better tha1 any others, because they were mine. And I wept again to think that those very ones that loved should have faded
 "Your flowers will often wither m. child," answered my mother; "ant though you may love your own nor than any others, yet when their bright ness and beauty are gone, you must re member that grieving cannot restor them. Every thing which brings 10 yo1 pleasure is one of the flowers of life Do you not love me more than all thos pretty colored leaves?"
 I could not say yes-but the smilin tears that were in my eyes told her m feelings; and my little arms twined fond ly about her neck, made the stronges affirmative her heart wanted.
 "I am one of the flowers of life" COT tinued she, "and so is your father, an so is sister Mary. But did you neve think that one day these flowers woul wilher?"
 I scarcely comprehended her meanin then, but l did not forget the words sh uttered; and years after, when manhoo was upon my brow, and stood lookin down into her grave, the whole truth ( her question and allusion came upon m mind, and wept anew in bitterness spirit.
 Remember, my dear," said she, as continued looking seriously into h. face, but half conscious of the force what she was saying, "that all aior your ways through life will spring [ pleasant flowers, and your hand will constantly reaching out and pluckil them-but, my child, they will { wither. Nothing on earth IS permaner All things are changing and passi1 away. You will indulge many br1llia anticipations, and, as you spring up manhood, will have many hopes to ha piness in this world; but disappointme will follow your steps wherever v tread. and the thorns of sorrow tear yo hands often when you have reached tht. ont to pluck the blossoms of joys. Y amid all this, there is virtue whi takes largely away from the darkness the picture; the virtue of patience. ]