Gulf Coast breeze. [volume] (Crawfordville, Fla.) 1897-19??, 1897-10-15

/
low and small rs ever, the furniture NJ
less plain and old-fashioned. Yes, /
was glad that / was not forced TO gel
my own living in the world; but fol-
all that L was disconnected.
Mother" I overheard Ada saving
one day, "Helen isn't happy, l think,
because we are not rich, like Mrs.
Marchmont.
! Are you happy with your humble
circumstances, my dear?" asked my
mother.
"Why, would like to be rich, of
course said Ada; "but we can't la
rich, you know; and then we are 80
comfortable-we have each other and
really pleasant home; and-yes,
mamma, / am happy, I'm sure. Only
l feel sorry for Helen"
could not help feeling rebukei.
And at night, when my father came
home, more tired than usual, he put
on his slippers and stretched his weary
limbs, saying:
IL have had such busy day, Mary,
and it seems good to get home to you
and the children"
He kissed her tenderly and took
little johnny on his knee, his face
wearing such good smile, such a
look of rest and contentment.
Come" he said after supper, 'let
us sing"
We had no piano, but we rot our
hymnbooks and sang togethor-my
father and mother had beautiful
voices, and Ada's was correct and
musical alto; and the music and The
words were so sweet and tender that
it melted my heart. l thought what
II that loving little choir were broken.
And / realized that We were indeed
happy; that the lines had fallen to us
in pleasant places; that myself was
naughty and ungrateful to be discon-
tented.
That night my father was taken III,
and | was startled--frightened-self-
condemned. Especially whea knew
that he was suffering great agony
that he was very sick-ihat the doc
tor said his illness was very serious
and dangerous one. thought, what
il my father should die!
For two or three days his case was
doubtful, and what sad household
was ours! The little ones were taken
to the house of kind neighbor. Nam
ma and Ada and | watched and nursed
our poor father night and day, not
knowing whether he would live or
die. i cannot tell you how / felt.
Tho house seemed SO desolate, with
papa lying sick, and when l went into
the rooms downstairs l thought how
happy, how contentel should be in
them--how cheerful | could be then
how golden and sunshiny the whole
little dwelling would seem il papa
would get we'll again. And / prayed.
humbly and penitently. that he might
be restored to us.
He was. After one sad and anxious
week the doctor said he was mending,
and If ever there was happy, glad
and grateful girl it was /.
went about the house like new
creature the day he was to come down
ST airs, frightened and beautifed every
thing about the rooms 10 the best of
my ability-hung the canary in the
sunshine and made the place beautiful
with blooming geraniums and roses
and heliotropes and hanging vines.
And saw that the fire in the open
CRATE burned clcar aud bright; that
the hearth was clean aud no speck of
dust about, and papas favoritc books
lay ready to his hands, and first of all
the great Bible, ont of which l myself
read aloud psalm Of thanksgiving
for him and all of us that night.
1 was so happy that mamma could
not but see the change in me, and she
took me in her arms and kissed me
silently and, oh, so tenderly.
And after that 1 could not and did
not murmur any more. But, instead,
1 went about, daily making our before
despised little house as pleasant rs L
could, until 1 wondered to see how
beautiful and cheerful and pleasant il
really was; wondered, too, that | had
never felt it before. But knew the
reason had been so blind was be-
cause would not see.
Mrs. Marchmont had come two or
three times while papa was ill. She
came again, now he was down stairs,
and made long call. As she went
away she fingered at the door.
"Do you know, Mrs. Hammond"
she said to my mother, edo You know
how like TO como here? Do you
know how pleasant it is herc?-sach