Democratic Sentinel, Volume 7, Number 50, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 January 1884 — THE SWEET BRIAR. [ARTICLE]

THE SWEET BRIAR.

A FAIRY LEGEND. Very slowly and wearily, over road and hedge flew a white butterfly one calm summer evening; its wings had been torn and battered in its flight, and it was sick well nigh unto death. On, on went the fugitive until it came to a little garden so sweet and quiet that it rested from its flight and said, “Here at least, I shall find peace; these gentle flowers will give me shelter.” Then with eager swiftness, it flew to a statelylily, “Oh! give me shelter, thou beautiful flower, it murmured, as it rested for a second upon its snowy petals—a second only, for with a jerk and exclamation of disgust the lily cast the butterfly to the ground. With a low sigh it turned to the pansy near. Well, the pansy wished to be kind, but the butterfly was really very tattered and dirty, and then velvet soils so easily that she must' beg to be excused; and then she was so small, and the lily was so stately, how could the lily do aught but right. The wall flower, naturally frank and good-natured, had been so tormented all day by those troublesome bees, and then it was really the butterfly’s fault that she was in such a state, that she solemnly vowed she would do nothing more for anybody. The tulips were asleep, and the other flowers, trying to emulate fair Lady Lily, held their heads so very high that they, of course, did not hear the low soft cry, “Oh! will no one give me shelter ?” At last came an answer, “I will, gladly,” in a shy but earnest voice, as though fearing to be presumptuous, from a thick thorny bush that grew by the roadside, and helped to protect the more dainty beauties from the rough blasts of a boisterous wind, in consideration of which service the flowers looked upon the briar as a good, useful sort of thing, respectable enough in its common way, but not as an equal, you understand. With gratitude the forlorn butterfly rested all night in the bosom of one of the briar’s simple blossoms. When night had gone and the bright sun came gliding up from the east, calling on nature to awake, the flowers raised their heads with all the pride of renewed beauty, and saluted one another. Where was the forlorn butterfly ? Ah! where? They saw it no more; but over the white blossom where it had rested there hovered a tiny fairy in shining, changing sheen, her wand sparkling with .dewdrops. She looked down on the flowers with gentle, reproachful eyes, while they bent in wonder and admiration. “Who is it?” they asked. “How beautiful! how lovely!” The fairy heard, them with a smile, and said: “Fair flowers, I was a forsaken butterfly; what lam you see. I came to you poor, weary and heartbroken, and because I was poor and ,weary, you shut me out from your hearts. ” The pansy and the wall-flower bent their heads, and the rose blushed with shame. “If I had only known,” muttered the lily, “but who would have thought it ?” “Who, indeed?” replied the fairy. “But learn, proud lily, that he who thinks always of self loses much of life’s sweetness—far more than he ever suspects, for goodness is as the dew of the heart, and yieldeth refreshment and happiness, even if it win no other recompense. “But it is meet that it should be rewarded. Behold, all of you!” and the fairy touched with her wand the white blossom on which she had. rested, saying: “For thy sweetness be thou loved forever!” At these words a thrill of happiness stirred the sap of the rough, uncultured briar, and a soft, lovely blush suffused the petals of its flowers, and from its green leaves came forth an exquisite odor, perfuming the whole garden and eclipsing the other flowers in their pride.