The Lakeland evening telegram., 1912-08-27
. STORY OF vI0LETS

| houses: the heavy atmosphere. suf.
fused with faint veil of gray fog,
J the dull, monotonous rumble of traffic,
the weary feeling OF struggling human
ity, the sound of anxious footsteps has
tening along the paved road of life.
The only color in this dim picture a
patch of violets-yoiets heaped in
prOfusion on the flower-girls tray Vi
Diets. whose breath, laden with a thou
sand memories, floats on the sitting
air and creeps unbidden, it may be un-
welcome. into the very heart of every
passerby.
The city man, his mind running in
figures, pulls up short to buy bunch
of the flowers, whose sweet scent stirs
his dull memory into activity. telling
him that he still possesses heart
Emotions, long stilled. memories bit.
ter-sweet, youthful dreams awakened
by the fragrance OF those violets, rise
persistently all day long, following
him, tugging at his sleeve. even In the
midst OF the all-a1iding worship of
Mamman.
Poor little modest fower!" A
youth. battling with the harder side
Of life. looks down with pity on the
bunch of violets in his hand. Like a
soft caress their breath touches his
sensitive heart. raising him above the
hum of city life into the fools par
adise" of fancy.
Two girls approach; one is richly
dressed. The tlower-sirl steps eagerly
forward, her monolonous cry chang
ing TO a note OF earnest Interrogation.
The elder OF the two waves aside the
modest English flower, the more eX-
pcsive Parma violet is scle, tcd-thcy
remind her OF Nice and of the Carni.
val. Her companion, in the plain
brown dress, scarcely hears these til-
Iant remarks. Bending over the tray
OF English vOlets, she has become I'M
conscious OF her surroundings. The
viOlets whisper in her ear OF babblng
brook and the song OF birds. She
sees her hOme-the tiny cottage, her
mothers smile; her little brother, for
whose sake she has left that simple,
happy life to live in the glare OF Ion
don society. where she must silently
endure a thousand yelled insults that
only dependent can understand
When she turns away viole, glistens
in the feeble sunshine--a tear from
lonely. sympathetic heart lies, like
a dewdrOp, on the yiolet's breast
All day long the violets pour out
their fragrant life on the sullen air,
growing fainter, fading away as he
day wears on. Hundreds harry past.
Few allow themselves to catch the
sweet thoughts that hover round the
flowers; fewer still have time TO stop
and buy. The flower-girl knows moth.
ing of this magic fragrance The
scent of tray full of fresh yioles
brings back the picture of cold,
bleak morning. noisy market. the
beginning of hard days work and
vague. uneasy questionings prompt.
ed by pangs OF hunger. Far dsarer to
her heart than the fairest flower is
the sight Of little heap of dirty cop
pers. counted out on an empty tray.
A acknowledgement couple stop
before the fower-girl. The man Of.
fers his companion a bunch of Eng
lish viOlets. but as before, they are
scornfully declined.
Parma violets look so we'll on fur:
English violets are so common" she
explains.
The man puts the rejected bunch of
viOlets in his buttonhole, his thoughts
leap back to forsaken memory the
street fades; the sound OF traffic grows
less; he answers his companion me-
chanically; his thoughts are tar
away.
Violets, viclets. nothing but yioets.
There at least in the cold solitude OF
the wood that shy. most modest OF flow
ers was not afraid Of being seen The
ground was carpeted with them, The
air was filled with their fragrance. A
girl sat on the stump of tree. with
violets In her hands, In the basket
at her side: violets profusely at her
feet; violets. soft and dark, in her
eyes. AS some one drew near her
} color deepened. an expec,ant smile
hovered round her lips.
They come 10 a more crowded part
Of the street. The man draws closer
to his companion, the sidious scent
Of the Parma violets she is wearing
penetrates into the very heart Of The
enchanted wood Forbidden dreams,
forbidden thoughts. Il thousand regrets
rush for moment through his BRAN.
but he has deliberately seorned tae
modest country flower. he had chosen
her rich. her more precious rival In
the press of the crowd something falls
10 the ground. il is his bGnch of Eng
lish violets-they lie in the mud. For
a moment he hesita,es. then he secs
on his way-not daring TO pick them
up.