The Jersey City news. (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1889-1906, 1890-07-14

couragcd * turning them over to help.
And I've given you my prettiest quilt,
too" said she, with a little laugh.
There's an honor
The gentleman looked toward the bed.
The quilt was a patchwork. It had a
wide striped border, but in the center
the blocks were all the same-bright
chintz a~lternated with white-a butter
fly on a branch, a rose, a butterfly on a
branch, and q rose again.
The man took Q fold Of it up in his
hand and looked at it as men do not
often look at patchwork quilts. The
woman bubbled on.
Were great for patchwork ia our
family. Such a pile as we had of these
quiltsa at home. Sister Ruth had twenty
when she was married, but I had fifty.
Ny other sister gave me her share, seeing
that / married a hotel keeper, and she
thinks she'll never marry. Oh, dear!
There's a story in a good many quilts, if
you did, but know it; and there is a story
in this. It's the last one Olive ever
made. But I'm boring you, SIR"
mo, go on said the gentleman. $50
on, please"
'She was engaged" said the landlady,
"and she was but 18. One afternoon
she and her sweetheart cut out these
blocks, the next they were parted. He
was suspected of o crime-of robbery.
sir, If must say it-and she never saw
him again. She knew that he was inno-
cent. She said that all the angels in
heaven couldn't make her doubt it, but
no one else thought with her untila year
had gone by, and thenan old confidential
clerk, who was trusted in everything,
being caught in another theft, confessed
to that which my sisters sweetheart had
been accused OF. The story he had told
to his employers of being knocked down
in the streets of New York, where he
went that holiday afternoon, and being
thought drunk, and put into a station
house, and being ashamed to give his
name next morning, and too sick to come
home next day, was no doubt true. His
employers advertised for him, but in
vain. And mother owned to sending
him away from the door when he came
to see Olive. It is a sad story. Olive
can't seem to like any one else, and the
poor fellow was fond of her. So that's
the story Of the quilt"
The woman stopped and gave a little
cry, for the guest had flung himself upon
his knees, and was kissing that patch
work quilt as lovers kiss their sweet
hearts lips.
She gave another little cry in a mo-
ment, and knelt down beside him and
put her hand upon his shoulder.
ooh, dearl oh, deatr' she sobbed, cry
ing hard herself. "Oh, dear! l do be-
lieve it is Harry Martin
And it was Harry Martin, who had
been to the far ends of the earth and had
found gold, but not happiness, believing
himself robbed forever Of love and Of
fair repute, and who had returned to
find both awaiting him through the
means Of that patchwork guilt, with its
butterflies and Towering boughs and
roses.
= y = y y
Lucy" said Olive to her sister a few
months afterward, snow that we are
going to housekeeping I want you to
give me one thing
Anything on earth that / can" said
Mrs. Joiiiver. Il was thinking Of a
silver service"
"Oh, Lucy, dear" said Olive, be-
ginning to cry for very happiness, sits
only the butterfly quilt that I want.
The dear old quilt Harry says we
can't keep house without it, we both
love it So"
.'I've rolled it up for you already"
said Mrs. Jolliver. SIC seems to belong
to you, Olive"
And SO today Olives last baby sits
upon the brilliant quilt, and tries with
his chubby fingers to pull therefrom the
butterflies and roses