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

all. Our little dwelling did not grow
any larger, the rooms were quite as
low and small as ever, tho furniture no
less plain and old-fashioned. Yes,
was glad that was not forced TO get
my own living in tho world; but for
all that / was discontinued.
Mother" overheard Ada saying
one day, "Helen isn't happy, 1 think.
because we are not rich, like Mrs.
Marchmont.
care 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 be
rich, you know; and then we are so
comfortable-we have each other and
really pleasant home; and-yes,
mamma, 1 am happy, I'm sure. Only
l feel sorry for Helen"
could not help feeling rebuked.
And at night, when my father came
home, more tired than usual, he put
on his slippers and stretched his weary
limbs, saying:
81 have had such busy day, Mary,
amt il 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 o good smile, such a
look Of rest and contentment.
Come" he said after supper. 'let
us sing"
We had no piano, but we got our
hymnbooks and sang togethcr--ny
father and mother had beautiful
voices, and Ada's was correct and
musical alto; and the music and The
words were 80 sweet aud tender that
it melted my heart. l thought what
IL that loving little choir were broken.
And realized that we were indeed
hapng; that helines had fa1 lem o us
in pleasant places; that I myself was
naughty and ungrateful to be discon-
| tented.
That night my father was taken i'll,
aud was startled--frightened-self-
condemned, Especially when / knew
that he was suffering great agony
that he was very sick-that the doc
tor said his illness was n very serious
and dangerous one. thought, what
if my father should diel
For two or three days his case was
doubtful, and what n 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. | cannot tell you how felt.
The house seemed so desolate, with
papS lying sick, and when went into
the rooms downstairs / thought how
happy, how contented / should be in
them-how cheerful l could be then
how golden and sunshiny the whole
little dwelling would seem il papa
would get we'll again. And 1 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
stairs, frightened and beautitied every
thing about the rooms to the best OF
my ability-hung the canary in the
sunshine and made the place beautiful
with blooming geraniums and roses
aud heliotropes and hanging vines.
And saw that the fire in the open
CRATE burned clear and bright that
the hearth was clean and no speck Of
dust about, and papa's favorite books
lay ready to his hands, and first of all
the great Bible, out of which myself
read aloud psalm Of thanksgiving
for him and all of us that night.
1 was so happy that mamma coult
not but see the change in me, and she
took me in her arms and kissed IN,
silently and, oh, SO tenderly.
And after that could not and die
not murmur any more. But, instead,
went about, daily making our before
despised little house as pleasant as
could, until l wondered to see how
beautiful and cheerful and pleasant i
really was; wondered, too, that hac
never felt it before. But 1 knew tn,
reason L had been SO blind was be
cause would not see.
Mrs. Marchmont had come two o.
three times while papa was i'll. Sh'
came again, now he was down stairs
and made long call. As she wen
away she fingered at the door.
500 you know, Mrs. Hammond,
she said to my mother, edo you know
how / like TO come here? Do yo,
know how pleasant il is here?--such