Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-02-22

gate Ill Une uuSky, u0Wy evening, they met her with shouts of welcome and reproach in- termingled; they had been watching for her since first the sun had grown low and red, and now the moon was risen
 But they forgave her when they saw the splendor of her presents, and she showered out among them Pere Melchiors horn of comfits
 They dashed into the hut, they dragged the one little table out among the flowers: the cherries and cake were spread on it. and the miller's wife had given a biz ipg of milk. and Father Francis himself had sent some honeycomb.
 dew; the great gillyfowers breathed out fragrance in the dusk; the goat came and nibbled the sw6etbrier unrebuked; the chil- dren repeated the Flemish bread grace, with clasped hands and reverent eyes, "Oh, dear little Jesus, come and sup with us, and bring your beautiful Mother too; we will not for get you are God" Then, that said, they ate, and drank, and laughed, and picked cherries from each others mouths like little black birds the big white dog gnawed crust at their feet. old Krebs, who had a fiddle, and could play it, came out and trilled them rude and ready Flemish tunes, such as Teniers or Mieris might have jumped to before an ale bouse at the Kermesse, Bebee and the chil.
 
 gether in the broad white moonlight, on tho grass and by the water side. the idlers came and sat about the women netting or spin ming, and the men smoking pipe before bed time, the rough, hearty Flemish bubbled like @ brook in gossip, or rung like horn over a jest; Bebee and the children. tired of their play, grew quiet, and chanted together the Ave Maria Stella Virginis;" nightingale among the willows sang to the sleeping swans.
 All was happy, quiet, homely; lovely also in its simple way. -
 They went early to their beds. as people must do who rise at dawn
 Bebee leaned cut moment from her own little easement ere she too went to rest
 Through an open lattice there sounded the murmur of some little childs prayer; the wind sighed among the willows; the night ingales sang on in the dark-an was still
 Hard work awaited her on the morrow, and on all the other days of the year.
 She was only little peasant-she must sweep, and spin, and dig, and delve, to get daily her bit of black bread-but that night she was as happy as little princess in fairy tale. happy in her playmates in her flowers, in her sixteen years, in her red shoes, In her silver buckles, because she was half 8 woman; happy in the dewy leaves, in the singing birds, in the hush of the night, in the sense of rest, in the fragrance of flowers, in the drift ing changes of moon and clouds; happy be- cause she was half woman, because she was half poet, because she was wholly poet.
 "Oh, dear swans, how good it is to be 16! how good it is to live at alll-do you not tell the willows soP said Bebee to the gleam of silver under the dark leaves by the waters side, which showed her where her friends were sleeping, with their snowy wings closed over their stately heads. and the yelled gold and ruby of their eyes
 The swans did not awake to answer.
 Only the nightingale answered from the willows, with Desdemona's song.
 But Bebee had never heard of Desdemona, and the willows had no sigh for her
 Good nightl" she said, softly to all the green dewy sleeping world. and then she lay down and slept herself. The nightingale sang on, and the willows trembled