The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1886-11-18
A GARDEN STORY.

The story began on a piece of ground,
or perhaps I ought to say, in it, where
there had been a flower garden for years
and years, of the most old-fashioned
sort. It always seemed in the spring as
if nobody need touch it, as if all the
flowers had come up and blossomed SC
many times that they might be left alone
to look after themselves.
She would not have man about that
part of her small domain-not shel Old
Mike O'Brien had been a gardener to a
lord in his native country, and might be
trusted to take the whole care of her
short rows of beans and forty hills of
potatoes; but she never could let him
loose among the flower beds-only once
when she had to spend a great deal of
time with a sick sister, and gave him
patterns of three kinds OF weeds which
he might pool; even then, scornful as he
was of her directions, she found the top
of one of her best lilies, and nearly all
the sprouts of her favorite mist-plant
lying with the pig-weed and rag-weed on
the garden walk.
Sometimes she got very tired; but
pfter all it was very good for her TO
spend so much time out of doors, and
she had the prettiest sweet peas, and
poppies, and nlarigolds, in town. 1t was
her one great luxury and pleasure, and
one friend after another found a chance
to give her a rare bulb, or slip from a
new geranium, or some rare flower
seeds, as the years went by.
The minister's wife had a very rich
cousin near Boston, who lived in fine
place, and was mistress of a hot-house.
Miss Dunning had once succeeded in
making. something bloom that the
cousins gardener had failed to persuade
into Towering, and there had been more
than one message and tribute pass to and
fro. 1t was a great triumph, and Miss
Dunning was asked to write her course
of treatment for the gardeners benefit.
The only pain she ever had all sum-
mer in regard to her little garden, was
! her fear lest she should be indulging
herself selfishly. She really did spend
too much, according to her slender
means, in this qualification. She knew
that there were other ways in which the
money might do more good, and if a
contribution box passed her by in church
after she had been buying a new rose or
a named geranium of high degree, she
| felt as guilty as if she had directly robbed
it, and had been caught, by the deacons.
But, dear soul! she tried in many ways
to give as many people as possible a
share in her Joy, and the whole country
village was the better for her beloved
flower garden. Sick people and little
children were sure to have enough of
posies; the pulpit in the old meeting
house was adorned Sunday after Sun
day. There was never bride or fun
eral in Littletown that did not depend,
more or less, summer or winter, upon
Miss Dunning's store of blossoms.
This year she had added to her bene-
factions. She had sent her name to
Boston as one kind soul who would give
little child her blessed country week.
mo boys Miss Ann had written in
her plainest hand, with two or three I'M
derlinings, and if she had picked Boston
all over she could not have found a little
maid that was more to her mind than
the one who fell to her share.
She had said she would be ready any
time after the first of June; and she was
little dismayed to be taxed at her
word. She wished that she could at
least have got her wedding done; but
the spring had been very late.
On the first of June itself, she had
gone to the depot to meet the unknown
visitor, and the little white house was
put in as careful order for the reception
of small Peggy BIcAllister as if she had
been Queen Victoria herself.
II.
l. L, L
letter together in Boston, and had smiled
at it little. The "No Boys" had divert
ed one of them particularly, and she in
stantly began to make little picture for
herself of the dear old-fashioned coun-
try-woman who had written the prim
note.
Il can see just how neat and nice the
little house is, and I know what grows
in her garden. Wemu keep that place
for very deserving little person. /
really should love to spend week with
Miss Ann Dunning myself"
81 believe know just the right child,
now," said one of the ladies. Il was at
the Blank street hospital, yesterday, and
one of the sisters spoke to me about a
child for whom she evidently had
great affection; a little Scotch girl-at
least her father and mother were from
Scotland, originally. They had both
died and an aunt took Peggy. The sis
ters sent for her so could see her. The
aunt and the child were brought to the
hospital sick, early this spring, and the
poor woman died, but Peggy remains be-
hind. Sister Helen asked me if 1
couldn't find somebody who would like
to adopt her. She said she had been so.
dear and useful they should hardly know
how to do without her; but it is really
no place for her at the hospital.
thought she had sweet, wise little face,
but she needs sun and air now. / never
thought of the country week! Do let us
send her.. Something may come of itI"
SThis seems to be the very place" said
the first speaker, smiling. They were
used to Mrs. Vests enthusiastic descrip-
tions of people, and to the sensible
promptings of her warm heart.
%I am going through Blank street on
my way home," said one of Peggy's
would-be benefactors, @and will see
Sister Helen about il. If your Peggy
comes back we will try to find her
better friend"
Poor, lonely little Peggy! She had be-
gun to wonder what was going to be-
come of her and whether there was
really any place for her in such big,
busy world. She had been grieved enough
when her aunt's housekeeping was
broken up, and when they went to the
hospital everything had seemed strange
and sad. Now, just as she had learned
to feel at home there and to really love
sister Helen and two or three of the
other kind-faced ladies who nursed the
the sick people-yes, and two or three
Of the sick people themselves-she had
found thatshe must go away, though no
body knew exactly where. She had
tried 50 hard to run errands quickly and
to wait upon every one, since she had
felt better and had begun to miss her
aunt little less and not to cry about
her quite so much. She was a silent,
grave little child and old for her years.
She hoped If she were very good and
gave no trouble that Sister Helen would
let her stay. 1t was, indeed, great
ro,-roxv xsrbey, che Uas told about the