The Montgomery advertiser., 1902-04-02
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 FLOWER THIEVES AND < "REMINISCENCES.
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 lBy Kate Slaughter .dckinney.).
 This article isn't altogether about how- CTS, it is partially about thieves, and be- fore doom them from the presence of Paradise l wish first to tell of the tiny vandal who lacerated my pet hyacinth a few days ago 1 was writing quietly al my desk. end had just glanced out at the sudden apparition of sun, that rain cloud had permitted to cross my gar den place. when a little boy ran past holding suspiciousiy a tall hyacinth stalk, Something drew me out to my gallery and missed my bloom. By this time the baby thief was half a block away and joined by two larger boys. l ran hurrisdiy toward them calling in angry. ccmmanding tone for them to halt. The little thief stopped, and turning reluctant ly faced me. holding out not only my purple hyacinth, but some stolen peach sprays. It WAS such meager bouquet. and held in such rusty little hand. and his dear, little tear stained face was so frightened that, after kindly teaching him an object leson of the wrong he had done. turned and twent home withou, my hyacinth. This little child was no doubt inspired by the enormous sin of the thief who had the villany to sneak into Mr. .Robinson's yard and carry of one bushel of blossoming. bulbs. Miss Wilson had sixty hyscinth clusters stolen form her dear, old. picture garden. and at Mrs. sayTe's on Amanda Street the thief even scooped up the bulbs leaving their graves open and trodden about What a shame that no policeman hap pened those ways at those hours! Is it possible that every. eye (except the thief s eye) Is asleep at night, and all the night? ss~ ~..> ,>la dnur to ha ba moon? Is there but One Place where thieves do not break forth and steal?
 have sometimes thought that flowers have emotions just like the human heart If not why did that fallen rose vine that lay prostrate on the ground for so long. when 1t was lifted. send every one of it's roses up to my window. It must have been grateful Can you imagine how a white hyacinth must feel when the great hand of a thief >creeps upon it in the dark? I fancy that 1t writhes at his touch. Thomas Baily Aldrich tells of the fatality of. three roses:
 Three roses wan as moonlight and
 weighted down
 Each with a ioveliness as with a crown Dropped in a florists window in town: The first lover bought--it lay at rest That night like beauty's flower on beau y tvs breast The second one as virginal and fair. Shrank in the tangies of a harlots hair The third a mother, with new grief made
 wild, .s
 -- Shut in the icy palm of her dead child flowers and not pick them except tc f,aat mi I a very little girl my mother used to send me out in the yard with a pair of scissors and a big waiter. There were low little rose plants that grew right straight up in the grass. The roses were pale red and so loose and soft that the petals fisttened out. and I could see the honey bees sucking the nectar from their hearts. Touching this Eden spot was a long hedge of purple lilacs. l never can forget twhen I would tip-toe up from the chair that my father had brought out) how the dew and rain drops splash ed my face when I pulled on the heavy hopghs. Sad is Robert Burns Wilson's lilac poem:
 Sweet graceful clusters of cool purple
 stars
 Each star a memory of the oiden day Some happiness that life's hard lot debarf Seems ever hiding in thy graceful spray Some dream that I have lost, some hopt
 denied,
 Some joy half understood. that now has
 fed
 It seemed to me then, as l would go like the bee from flower to flower. that this little fenced-in-space must be Para disc, and when I would hear the preach CTS telling on Sundays of their Heaven Where congregations ne'er break ur And Sabbaths never end
 l hoped in my child heart that l would never go there. 1 was satisfied with oui big yard where there was no commotion
 One day when l had gathered all thu choicest and freshest roses. and othel lovely blooms, I chanced by the Blacl Tartarian cherry tree. My only brother was high in it's top; he called to me t' come. and l climbed the ladder and VI sat in the boughs and ate cherries, an' were happy until a robin flew into tn leaves and flew out with one in his beak My brother said he was going to kil him. What for, what for?' l asked, bu he was gone tand so was the bird) fo his gun; and when l came down to m! flowers they had all wilted. Mothe scolded mo, and said I had no apprecia ton of the beautiful.
 pIO you hnON that DiTQS were IlIeIluS v flowers and fruits? For every straw berry bunch the robin takes he capture ten bugs and twenty worps. Let then live, they sing their own poetry and the! are flying flowers. Some of the sweets and tTuest friends ever made were Dir, friends Because of their love of 'oveli ness they are very often shot at an' killed. and treated as sneak thieves. Ther never was any snesking about the Ken lucky birds; their wide spread wings an calling songs are positive proof of m statement. TheFe are many kinds 0 thieves. however--the specimen that like best to cast a stone at is the snea that prowls around among the flowers c our thoughts. and our good and beaut full impulses, and attempts to steal fror others their faith in our real intentions.
 The interesting rivalry in amateu gardening has brought about a deiightfl exchange of letters between apprecistiv parties Andrew J, Miiler's page ( praise 10 me was most helpful and Van