The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1889-05-28
CHRYSANTHEA.

She had come into life just as the chrys-
anthemums do, withthe falling leaves, and
like them, too, she had bloomed as best
she might without the glow, the Summer
splendor, or the Summer sho wers that
other lives aud other flowers share.
She lived in a brown farmhouse among
the Massachusetts hills with her old
father. Had she bloomed so late in his
life to give some color and poetry to the
Autumn of his days, as the c~hrysanthe-
mum blows only to light the fall Of the
dying leaves2 1t NUS have been so, for
he wa well into his sixties, while she was
barely sixteen.
Years ago her mother had died, a frail,
lovely creature, who would have given
that other young life the JOY and love it
needed so; but the child grew without it,
a hardy, cheerful thing, though not with
out a certain w~istfulness at times in her
great deep blue eyes so like a purple
flower. Old Rachel, her fathers house
keeper and her own faithful nurse, used
to look at her with wet eyes, and shake
her head.
at amt natural. She goes on singing
and laughing as happy as a lark all day;
but what's to make her happy, sayI? 1t
ain'ther father, nor yet me, tho I do love
her, the dear, and she amt gotno mother,
no sister, no brother, no. yet no lover, so
what's to make her happy? 1t amt nat
ural, " she insisted, as a blithe voice rose
above the clatter of the dishpans, as Rach-
ael hustled around the kitchen.
What makes you so happy lamb ?"
cried the old woman out through the open
window.
ooh, Rachel, I've got such a lovely
lot Of chrysanthemums; come and see, oh
look, lookI"
"It's them flowers that makes her
happy" muttered the old servant, as she
made her way through the kitchen gar
"Wellt to be sure, Chriss dear, them do
beat all. Oh, them is handsomel"
aren't they just lovely2 See the
great golden ones, and the purple, those
are my favorites, and this cherry and
white, and these pure white, too, those
are for mother" she said, lowering her
voice a little, "they are the only ones I
shall pick. Rachel! a1en't they lovely ?"
But Rachel only shook her head and
went into the house.
T. think she loves them flowers so; it
ain natural, it amt: if it was a kitten now
or a dog I wouldn't wonder so, but a lot
of clinging aSters, it amt natural"
Natural or not, Chriss was very happy.
She hung yer her newly blooming pets
nearly all the morning, then a sudden
cloud came over her face. She looked
up with a long sigh and turned toward the
back Of the house, where two deep win
dows marked her fathers study.
81 wonder now if I dare tell him about
them, he does hate so to be disturbed,
but oh! I want him to see those purple
ones so muchI"
With one fond look at her glowing bed
she went in at the door With hesitating
step she passed along the broad, old fash
Toned hall and raped timidly at the oaken
door. Not expecting any response, she
went in and sighed as she saw the gray,
bent head porting over an old book. A
wood fire smoldered on the hearth. She
knelt down and blew the embers, looking
up now and then with a smile.
There, there, let 1t all alone, child, it is
burning very we'll"
ooh, father, father"
Well what now?
Father it is just lovely out today, so
warm and so sunny, and, father, my flow
ers are in blooml"
Your flowers, oh, the chrysanthemum
bed, hey? Well, that's good"
"Father won't you come and look at
them? doI' very wistfully.
"Come out? Not I. I've got some
! thing better to do than to look at a lot of