The Butler County press. [volume] (Hamilton, Ohio) 1900-1946, 1924-09-12
A Message of
Hope to a Man
Who Would Die
BY MILDRED GooDRIDGE
20, 1924. Western Newspaper Union.)


UT CAN'T go through with it,"
groaned a haggard, desperate
faced man on one side of "a garden
wall.
"Oh, you beautiful world" lisped
q child in an invalid chair on the 9th
er side Of the wall.
The man was Robert Dale. city |
merchant. He sat in the shade OF |
tree near the ruins Of some burned |
down residence.
There are only two ways" he NUT
tered, darkly. There Is bankruptcy.
but that reads disgrace, and | could
not bear it, The other ls-this!'
He drew from his pocket loaded
revolver and gazed at it fixedly
The little child was Flora Easton,
sweet-faced girl of ten. The chair was
drawn up close to a rustic table
Upon this were writing materials. As
she took up pencil, one could see
from the slow, weak and erratic move
ments of her hand that she had only
an imperfect control over its muscles.
Finer was little Floras accus-
toned CHEEKY reply when asked no"
she was getting along.
On this especial morning her brave
little heart thrilled as for the frst
time she found that she could use her
hand to write a word Hitherto even
the effort to produce single letter
had been hard task.
"Oh, papa, mammal !" she cried in
wild fervor of excited delight, as al
most breathless with joy and surprise
she completed whole sentence on
the sheet of paper before her.
Her parents came rushing anxious
| ly from the house at the unusual cry.
what Is it-are you Ill, Flora Z
| quavered her mother.
"Oh, no." dissented the agitated lit
| tie one Just think of 1T am get
| ting well, sure, papa For see-I
| have written whole sentence
And then little Flora uttered cry
| Of dreful dismay. great breath of
wind had come along. 1t caught up
| the loose sheets of paper, ii scattered
/ them over the garden wall.
"And 1t was the first real sentence
| | have written since-since | was
sick!" mourned Flora. why, think
of 1t plain as day and without tiring
my hand at all, printed out Never
Say Die'p'
"Well, my dear" said her father,
very soon you will be able to write
/ whole pages" and then his heart over
| flowed with hope at this indication
that the little sufferer was on the road
to recovery.
In week the episode of the miss
ing sheet of paper was forgotten. Lit
tie Flora, indeed, improved. Day by
day she grew stronger. Many a bur
dened heart revived at sight of the
patient, loving little creature, who
saw only love and helpfulness as her
rare mission of life.
Click--the man who sat on the other
side of that fateful garden wall had
been too absorbed in his misery to
heed the sounds about him. He got
ready the deadly weapon. Then 1t
dropped suddenly from his nerveless
fingers There had come floating down
like dove of peace, like heavenly
messenger, sheet of paper. 1t fell
directly In his lap. With awed staring
eyes Robert Dale read the rude,
scrawllng words:
Never say die !"
A quick revulsion of feeling passed
over him. Whence had the message
come No one was in sight. He burst
into tears, he dropped TO his knees
and new strength and impulse came
into his life.
Two wears later little Flora and her
parents attended a meeting at the
town hall OF the village. 1t had been
announced some time previous that
Robert Dale, q wealthy city merchant,
had purchased the grounds beyond
the garden wall A meeting had been
called where he was TO publicly
donate the land and $4,000 to build an
orphan asylum.
Mr.. Dale arose and made the formal
tender of his beneficence TO the town.
Then his face grew grave and solemn,
as he stated that he wished to tell
why ne naQ De6H uupCl1cu " Ills Piii-
anthropic action. He recited his ex-
perience the day when that strange
message had come TO him. He told
how, banishing his cowardly fears. he
had gone back to the city nerved to
combat his business difficulties.
Then he took from treasured cor
ner in his pocketbook a folded piece
of paper and passed it around among
the audience, the precious sheet of pa
per bearing the words:
Never say die -
The little scrap of paper passed
among two rows Of seats. AS it came
to Mr.. Easton little Flora uttered a
quick cry
"Oh, papa, it's my writing. Don't
YOU remember that day in the gar
den?'
Not only for Dale, but for others
who had felt the gentle, hopeful infiu-
ence of little Flora, the rare perfume
of her loving soul seemed to ditfuse
hope and happiness everywhere.
AS Robert Dale left the Easton
home the following day the lofty flight
of bird appeared to symbolic the
purified aspirations of his better ma