Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1886-09-13
A Bunch of ViOletS.

IL WAS mllu UuG rainy aICernOOu |
just at the close of winter, and the
children had all day been wearily
seeking diversion within doors.
Grandma sat in the chimney-corner
serenely knitting, as usual, while the
little ones played their games around
her. Janette, the eldest, was just at
present ransacking warder in which
lay relics of past days, when she sud-
denly drew forth bunch of flowers,
so dry and withered as almost to
crumble at her touch.
80 grandma, do look!' she cried.
"See how old and faded these flowers
are surely they must have history"
The grandmother had raised her soft
eyes, and now as they rested on the
withered flowers, light as of rekin-
died memories lit up her countenance,
and she answered meditativeIy "Yes,
dear, they have indeed a history, true
and beautiful. Draw your chairs
closer around me, and | will tell it
you here by the fireside." This was
invitation enough for the children.
In another moment they had gather
ed about her, all silent and gladly
expectant, as grandma began:
"Sad trouble and affliction had
come to the home of Louis Mayran
and his widowed mother: more bitter
poverty and need than one could ever
have thought possible, few days be-
fore, when looking into their comfort
able dwelling in the suburbs of the
great city, with its well-tended gar
den of early vegetables, by which
Louis father earned for them all
such a sufficient support; but the
| good father had died, and, though
the mother and her boy labored in
dustriously to keep up the business,
misfortunes followed fast, one upon
| another; two successive cold springs
had killed the tender vegetables f; and,
little by little, they had found them
selves in debt, and rent already sadly
in arrears, and nothing offering even
a promise of better things to come.
One by one, every article that could
be spared found its way to the pawn
shops, till now the little cottage was
well-nigh emptied Of comforts, and
the gaunt shadow of starvation SEEM
ed nearing their door, while friendly
faces or helping hands became ever
fewer and more distant. For time
the poor widow had borne up brave
ly; but what with sleepless nights
and insufficient food, she was fast
sinking under her burden-a fact
which she would not have greatly de-
plored, had it not been for her boy,
who tried so hard to be her stay and
comfort.
Cheer up, mother, he would say,
when the tears no longer to be hid
den stole down her cheeks. Il am
growing older and stronger now, each
day; and surely | will soon find
work, when you shall want for moth
ing. l will bear anything, if only
we are not compelled to ask help
from others; and, surely, God, who
provides for his birds and flowers,
will not let his children suffer-
1t was easier, perhaps, for Louis
thus to maintain steady faith and
undaunted courage, for, all unknown
to him, the elf-sacrificing mother
was denying herself by far the larger
share of the scant daily food, that he
might not want. But the manly boy
had not only this trust in the love of
heavenly father, but also the pride
of old French blood, which helped
him in the struggle of adversely.
Like many others, however, Louis
was to learn that God very often
sends gifts through earthly agents.
The widow and her boy were now
forced to appeal to strangers for
help; but the story and their need
was brought to the knowledge of one
of Gods own mlnistering spirits, a
kind and wealthy lady, who well
knew how to relieve necessity with
out causing pain or humiliation. 1t
was thus that this unknown friend en-
tered the desolate cottage one day,
just as the severe winter was giving
place to promises of spring, and just
when Louis brave heart was droop-
ing sorely. Sad and silent, he stood
behind his mothers char. listening
gratefully, but with throbbing
heart, as the kind visitor talked gen
tly of their sorrows, her little girl
who had accompanied her looking
often into his sad eyes. Louis strove
hard to thrust down the feeling of
wounded pride struggling within him ;
but when he saw the lady draw forth
her purse, though not ungrateful, yet
he could no longer conceal his pain,
and, abruptly leaving the room,
sought despairingly the cool air with
out. If he only had anything with
which to make return Were they in
deed, then, so poor that they must
receive money as beggars, unable
even to manifest their gratitude, save
in words which seemed to find no
way to his lips?
Surely this was hard; and the poor
boy lifted his fearful eyes almost re-
proachfully to heaven; bet the bright
sun dazzled them, as if in rebuke,
and, as they dropped, something at
his feet attracted his attention. There,