Year: 1873

her clothing, all she has, must be coarse
and plain. You should have seen the
almost rapture she and Mary felt when
I offered them my rose.


Dear mel all this may be true, but
never thought of it before. I never
thought that these hard-working people
had any ideas of taste?"


Then why do you see the geranium
or rose so carefully nursed in the old
cracked teapot in the poorest room, OF
the morning-glory planted In box, and
twined about the window? Do not
these show that the human heart yearns
for the beautiful in all ranks of life?
You remember, Kate, how our washer
woman sat mp whole night, after a
hard days work, to make her first baby
pretty dress to be baptized in"


eyes, and remember how L laughed
at you for making such tasteful little
cap for it.


Well, Kate, think the look of per-
feet delight with which the poor mother
regarded her baby in its new dress and
cap, was something quite worth crea-
ting: do believe she could nos have
felt more grateful if I had sent her a
barrel of -four.


"Well, well, cousin, L suppose you
are right, but have mercy on my poor
head it is too small to hold so many
new ideas all at once-so go on your
way p and the little lady began practic-
ing a waltzing step before the glass with
great satisfaction.


1t was a very small room, lighted by
only one window. There was no carpet
on the floor, there was clean, but
coarsely covered bed in one corner; a
cupboard with few dishes and plates,
in the other, chest of drawers; and
before the window stood a small cherry
stand, quite new, and indeed it was the
only article in the room that seemed so.


A pale, sickly-looking woman Of about
forty was leaning back in her rocking
chair, her eyes closed, and her lips
compressed as if in pain. She rocked
backward and forward few minutes,
pressed her hand hard upon her eyes,
and then languidly resumed her fine
stitching, on which she had been busy
since morning. The door opened, and
a slender little girl of about twelve
years of age entered, her large blue
eyes dilated and radiant with delight,
as she bore in the vase with the rose
tree in it.


ooh! see, mother, seel Here is one
in full bloom, and two more half out,
and ever so many more pretty buds
peeping out of the green leaves.


The poor woman's face frightened as
she looked, first on tue rose, and then
on her sickly child, on whose face she
had not seen so bright a color for
months.


"God bless her!" she exclaimed un-
consciously.


Miss FlOrence-yes, I knew you
would feel so, mother. Does it make
your head feel better to see such a
beautiful flower? Now, you will not
look so longingly at the flowers in the
market, for we have a rose that is hand
somer than any of them. Why, it
seems to me it is worth as much to us
as our whole garden used to be. Only
see how many buds there are. Just
count them, and only smell the flower!
Now, where shall we set it upr' And
Mary skipped about placing her flower
first in one position and then in an
other, and then walked off to see the
effect, till her mother gently reminded
her that the rose-tree could not preserve
its beauty without sunlight


"Oh, yes, truly" said Mary ''well,
then, it must be place here on our new
stand. How glad I am that we have
such handsome new stand for it; It
will look so much better" And Mrs.
Stephens laid down her work, and fold
ed a piece of newspaper, on which the
treasure was duly deposited.


"There," said Mary, watching the
arrangement eagerly, "that viii do
no, for it does not show both the open
ing buds a little further round a lit
| tie more; there, that is right" and
then Mary walked around to view the
rose in various positions, after which
she urged her mother to go with her to
the outside, and see how it looked there.
How kind it was in Miss Florence to
think of giving this to u.s." said Mary
"though she had done so much for us,
and given us so many things, yet this
seems the best of all, because it seems
as if she thought of US, and knew just
how we felt; and so few do that, you
know, mother. ="


What bright afternoon that little
gift made in that little room. How
much faster Mary's fingers flew the
Iivelong day as she sat sewing by hel
mother; and Mrs. Stephens, in the
happiness of her child, almost forgot
that she had a headache, and thought
as she slipped her evening cup of tea
that she felt stronger than she baddonC
for some time.


That rose! its sweet2nfuence died
not with the first day. Through all the
! long cold winter, the watching, tending
cherishing that flower, awakened
thousand pleasant trains of thought
that beguiled the sameness and weari
ness Of their life. Every day the fail
growing thing put forth some fresl
beauty leaf, a bud, a new shoot
and constantly awakened fresh enjoy
ment IN its pCssessors. As it stood II
the window, the passer-by would some
times stop and gaze, attracted by If.
beauty, and then proud and happy wa
Mary; nor did even the serious anJ
careworn widow notice with indiffer
ence this tribute to the beauty Of thei
favorite


But little did Florence think, whel
she bestowed the gift, that there twine,
about it an invisible thread that reache,
far and brightly into the web Of he
destiny.