Connecticut western news., 1890-03-26
CHRYSANTHEA.

S.w. Foss in Puck.
 CHRYSANTIIEA.
 She had come to life just as the ehrysanthemums do, with the falling leaves, and like them, too, she had bloomed as best she might without the glow, the summer splendor or the sum- mer showers that other lives and other flowers share.
 She lived in . brown farm house among the Massachusetts hills with her old father. Had she bloomed so late fin his life to give some color and poetry to the autumn of his days, as chrysan- themum blows only to light the fall of the dying leavesp It must have been co, for he was we'll into the sixties, while she was barely sixteen.
 Years ago her mother had died, frail lovely creature, who would have given that other young life the joy and love 1t needed SO; but the child grew without it, . hardy, cheerful little thing, though not without certain wistfulness at times in her great deep blue eyes SO like a purple flower. Old Rachel, her fathers housekeeper and her own faithful nurse, used to look at her with wet eyes and shake her head. '.It ain't natural. She goes on sing ing and laughing as happy as } lark alf day; but what's to make her happy, say IF It ain't her father, nor yet me, tho I do love her, the dear, and she CT, nor yet pe lover, so what's to make her happya 1t ain't natural. " she in- sisted, as . blithe voice rose above the chatter of the dishpans as Rachel bus tied about the kitchen.
 '.What makes you so happy, lamb?" cried the old woman out through the open window.
 "Oh. Rachel, I've got such lovely lot of chrysanthemums; come out and sec; oh, look, lookI"
 '.It's them flowers that makes her happy" muttered the old servant, as she made her way through the kitchen garden.
 "Well, to be sure, Chriss, dear, them do beat all. Oh, them is handsome" '.Aren't they just lovelyP See the great gold ones and the purple; those are my favorites, and this cherry and white, and these pure white, too, those arc for mother" she said, lowering her voice . little; they are the only ones l shall pick. Rachel! aren't they love- Hr But Rachel only shook her head and won't into the house.
 'To think she loves them flowers SO; 1t in't natural. it ain't; if it was a kit ten now or a dog l wouldn't wonder 70, but lot of clinging asters, it ain't natural"
 Natural or not, Chriss was very hap py. She hung over her newly bloom Ing pets nearly all the morning, then . sudden cloud came over her face. She looked up with long sigh and turned to the back of the house, where two deep windows marked her father g study.
 'I wonder now if I dare tell him about them, he does hate so to be dis turbed; but oh! want him to see those purple ones so much"
 With one fond look at her glowing g bed she went in at the door. With hesitating step she passed along the broad, old-fashioned hall and rapped timidly at the oaken door. Not e1- pecting any response she went in and sighed as she saw the gray, bent head boring over an old book. A wood fire smoldered on the hearth. She knelt down and blew the embers, looking up now and then with smile.
 There, there. let it alone, child; it b burning very we'll"
 'Oh, father, father-"
 "Well, what now?"
 Father, it's just lovely out to-day o warm and sunny; and, father, my flowers are in bloom."
 Your fowers-oh, the chrysanthe. mum bed, heyp We'll, that's good"
 Father. won't you come and look al themf Dor' very wistfully.
 Come outp Not I. I've got some. thing better to do than to look at lot of posies. There, run along, child now do."
 She went very slowly and softly out of the room, closing the door gently be hind her, but her heart was full. Hel song was silent now, and as she passed the kitchen window she did not look uI and nod as usual.
 She went quietly out to the hot house and. selecting a small trowel, knei down beside the white chrysanthe mums and began loosening the root! with tender, patient hands.
 "She would have come to look" sh, murmured, as she glanced of to wher, the white shaft of her mothers toml arose
 ''She would have understood; per haps she will understand now if l say little prayer"
 Two hot tears fell on the pure bios sons as she gathered them up in he apron; but they were not bitter tears she was too young for that Sh walked quickly across the fields tha separated the burying ground from tn house, and was soon by her mother grave. Tho field lark was chirpin 2 the goldenrod had brushed her cheek as she passed, her heart was lighter and she sang under her breath sweet, old-fashioned hymn.
 At last the flowers were planted an che turned to go.
 A young man with a sketch boo Yass. She looked up in time to Sc him remove his hat, and encountered pair of dark brown eyes. She colored and went on with quickened steps conscious of her soiled apron and eartt begrimed fingers.
 He stood looking after her, still wit his head barred. He was an artist; tn sight of the young girl kneeling by th . grave had appealed to his senses.
 He had seen the monument from distance and had come to inspect il without an idea of intruding; there h had seen her, had sent one look int those sweet, flower-like eyes, and ha let her go without one word of apolog, He saw her enter the farm house an then retraced his steps, reading fir the inscription on the monument:
 Sacred to the memory of
 Elizabeth, Wife of Caleb Field,
 Who died Jau.-1S-