Jasper Republican, Volume 2, Number 1, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 September 1875 — PANSIES FOR THOUGHTS. [ARTICLE]

PANSIES FOR THOUGHTS.

A hapvy young family— father, mother, and baby—came to live in a great city one May. Their home was one of the many houses in a line, all alike, with a little ornamental balcony at one side, a bay-win-dow at the other, and a tiny grass-plot in front which itself “the garden!” Opposite »« a row of houses very similar, and on both sides came to take a livply interest in this family. Very soon their refined taste evinced itself. Vines peeped through the fleecy curtains of the bay-window, and a canary’s cage hung from tile center. The piazza became gay with baskets and- stands of flowers. Passers-by had glimpses of books and pictures, and a piano, where, every evening when Rob Roy came home, the clear touch and tuneful voice of Helen, his wife, was heard. Thus they commended themselves to the cultivated of the street, who cast favorable eyes upon them as fit partakers of OBetiheUtchet thee.

But a greater company by far, the mothers, approved them for the adulation of the baby. And the baby was surely as lovely a one as heart could wish. A wee, round, delicately-fashioned creature, pretty from the top of the head, crowned with little rings of sunny hair, to the rose-pink soles of her feet; with great smiling blue eyes, a dainty little nose, and an actual sweet, cherry mouth, not the imbecile aperture for the reception, lacteals which goes by the name of -tile average baby face. You will observe I use the feminine pronoun. If a baby is pretty, vivacious and acute, is it not sure to be a girl? If it is a Dutch cherub, with a splendid physique and a lumpish demeanor, which the little impostor tries to palm off as dignity (deceiving only his next of kin thereby), is it n$ —bear me out, O mothers of the herd—always'a boy ?

When the baby went to drive in her perambulator her course through the street was a royal progress. One loyalist after another stayed her chariot to do her homage. They kissed her, of course; they rejoiced to find her tendrils would soon become .purls; they peered into her mouth and gave each other intelligence concerning her latest tooth; they pointed out the dimples in her cheek, the two that indented her shoulders, the many that dwelt at her .elbow and round her wrist and in her hands. Her most enthusiastic subjects counted her toes, examining each shining nail, scrutinized her fairy ears, and besought her to show them her tongue. When she condescendingly stretched it forth they whispered breathlessly, “She knows!” Baby was a friendly creature, sweettempered as well as merry, and she patiently aired her gifts and graces before her people; but she was artful, too, and kept her sweetest wiles for home. What a famous day it was when she took her first steps! We saw the exhibition, and it was as good as a Christmas pantomime. At Rob Roy’s ring Helen opened the door, and, the greeting kiss given, led him to the balcony and plunged at once into a description, quite intelligible to us from her gestures, how she had get the baby against the wall and knelt before her with open arms to lure her to come to her, and how baby, after some hesitancy, suddenly flew to her, and she had tried two or three times to make sure she could do it, and how there was no mistake. Then Rob shook his head and

put on the most incredulous, expression, and Helen, persisting? looked very pretty with her bloom heightened and a rippling brown lock straying into her earnest eyes. Asseveration proving, vain, she went off for the champion walker of the universe. Baby came, filly arrayed for the solemnity in a short white frock much befrilled and a blue sash tied in a big butterfly bow behind. She greeted her father with effusion, but when he derisively requested her company for a promenade in the park she grew calm. Being put in position the kneeling pair—for Rob the skeptic straightway became a devotee—enticed her to them .by all their arts. But none of these blandishments moved baby until she chose to set out. Closely pressing herself against the wall, she watched her parents for a minute with a tranquil and conning smile. Then catching her dress, danseusewise, at each side she advanced, not as hitherto with the skimming motion of the sparrow, but with stately little steps, until just in front of them, where she paused in the prettiest attitude of coquetry and irresolution in the world, and signalized her

victory by eaatiag herself into her father's arms. Then shouting arose, in which we blush to say the overwrought spy joined, thus bringing condjgn punishment upon her eyes, for, discovering the publicity, the actors withdrew. Baby, throned cm her father’s shoulder, beat a tattoo against it with her wee blue kid feet, and Helen, grasping his arm, laughed in sweet triumph. Only a week after wC heard that baby was ill. Very ill, the report was as the day wore cm; and more than one pair of eyes filled when it grew plain that there was small hope of her recovery. Baby lay on the bed with the clutch of diphtheria at her darling throat—her soft, milkwhite throat, which we had so often kissed, lifting the coral the bettor to see its fairness and plumpness: She suffered, moaning constantly, sometimes catching at her throat with both hands, turning entreating eyes on her mother. ■’

Her mother! Who pored over her with deathless love in her face, who was fain to suffer torture for her child wad could dot, who was smitten with the sense that in her physical ease she was unjust to her. “OGod!” she groaned, “take her to Thyself, if it be Thy will, but give meher pain, I pray.’.’ t She would stand for hours caressing baby witfi lips and hands, soothing her with all her store of fond words, looking at her with a smile—such a smile!—in her eyes. “You must take rest,” kind Mends said. “/rest!” she would answer, pointing to the restless little child. God was good. The day the baby lay a-dying she had no pain. She knew her father and mother, and constantly smiled a weak little smile upon them, often held up her mouth to be kissed. At sunset she turned her great pathetic eyes upon her mother and held out her arms, and-when Helen raised her head from that embrace and looked in her face she found baby had bidden her goodby. For a little while she lay in pale, lovely sleep within the snowy draperies of her crib, all among flowers, and then there came the day when her parents shut the light of their eyes from their sight, when they left their dearest in her lonely bed. Helen asked so piteously to go none coulflcesist. She stood like a statue until the mound was heaped. Then eveiy mother’s in : stinct seemed to draw her down and she fell on it in a ddfep swoon. In a few days Bob carried her to her own mother, in whose household chronicles such loss had more than once been written, and together they mingled their tears. r ’ ; ’ ' > - * v

That autumn Miss Ray came to spend a week in the city. Miss Ray was forty. Her attire was in good taste, but it hung sharply off her angles, as is the treacherous wont of old maids’ clothes; and it had the other fault ascribed to that order—extreme neatness. She was thin, her hair was threaded with gray, and her features were not beautiful; but on her brow dwelt peace, and love shone from her eyes. Miss Ray was one of the few mortals who know all the three chords of the angels’ song. We are willing to ascribe glory to God in the highest, and content that there should be “peace on earth”; but who practices “good-will toward men”? She did. She had not the love of the philanthropist for man in the mass, but an individual love for each one as for a brother, a sister. The outgrowth was quiet enough, but if you laughed first the tears of genuine admiration hastened after. She always mended torn bills because she never forgot the distress in a poor woman’s eyes when her tattered money was. refused in the shop, and her own modest means, promptly tendered, were insufficient. Her course through the village street was a devious one because of the peelings, the broken glass, the rusty nails she gathered and put into the gutter. The child we have all met crying because he has lost the money for bread, or broken the milk-pitcher, was always consoled by her, and gazed after the dear slim figure, with relief shining through his tears, the assuaging coin clutched tightly in his fingers. Old men found their empty tobac-co-canister mysteriously replenished. 01d f women found the shawl they had coveted, with the “desire of the moth few the star,” waiting in the drawer to be worn on Christmas meaning Tired washerwomen were cheered by the package of tea that appeared on their table when they lit their late lamp after a hard day oufPand as they sipped the steaming brew and felt revivification steal through their veins they gave up the conundrum; Who thought it? in placid satisfaction. The lank-cheeked boy gazing into the confectioner’s window, the forlorn girl fixing wistful eyes on the doll in the toy-shop, had the treasure suddenly put-into their hands. Her eyes “ grew tender over drowning flies,” and she duly fished them out and laid them in the sun to dry. How she has stopped dog-fights, tending the lame warriors on both si4es; how she has snatched kittens from the very jaws of the puppy, cannot be told. If you surprised her in these deeds she blushed like a girl caught writing a loveletter. Her steps were as noiseless and beneficent as an angel’s. Her friend took her driving to the cemetery (me morning and when they got there they wandered through the tranquil garden of the dead. Stately dowagers rolled by in velvet mantle and double chin; gay girls took their noonday airing and made plana for festal, days and nights; two lovers read eternal love in each other’s qyes—all were unmindful of this fleeting, tragic life whoee memo rial stones gleamed thick and pale around them. They came upon a tiny red mound. “ Poor Mrs. Roy’s little girl,” said her friend. “ She was buried a week ago, and [ I hear the mother’s grief was terrible,” I and she went on to speak of it,

“ Poor thing! Poor young thing!” said Miss Ray, with the sympathetic tears rising. “I wish i could do something for her!” Then she considered. Presently her face brightened; she put her hand in her pocket; took out her porte-monnaie and extracted therefrom a tidy package marked “ Viola Tricolor !’ ’ She borrowed a trowel from a man at work near by and soon had sown the little grave with seed and deftly covered them. “There!” she said, with a long breath of satisfaction. “ Poor young mother!” Rob Roy passed a lonely, anxious winter. Helen was taken with diphtheria. She was not very ill, but the flbctdr urged care and watahing, so Rob Roy left her with her mother. He spent every Sunday with her and several days at Christmas tide, when, I doubt not, they kept the birthnight of the Holy Child with smiles and team. We pitied him in his solitary life. We looked at the one light at night and the darkened nursery window, and sighed as we remembered six months ago. But one day in early spring, when gentle airs were blowing the vapor about the soft sky, aod flowers were thrusting their gay young heads above the black earth, Rob stopped under our balcony and lifted his glad face to say he was going for Helen to-morrow.

So she came back even sweeter than before, for the mourning-dress and for her selfless bearing of her cross. She took up the thread of her home life where it had fallen black and tear-stained and wove it shining as before. When she had been at home several days she said one morning: “Can’t you come home early this afternoon, Rob, and take me to baby’s grave?” “O, yes,” answered Rob, .drawing her tenderly to him. She, leaning on his shoulder, asked: “ Have you had anything planted there, Rob? I shall not see it hare, shall I?”entreatingly. Rob hung his kind, foolish head. The day she came he had ordered an elaborate dinner; he had adorned, the house with costly flowers, he had given her an exquisite trinket; but the thing she wanted most in the world he had left undone.

Then this wise woman, divining his trouble, said, from her resting-place: “ Never mind, we shall see about it together. I will look for you early.” So she kissed him good-by. But when he was gone the tears' flowed over her face. It Was a lovely afternoon when they entered the great cemetery gates. A little chill lingered in the air, but it was sunny and calm. Helen held a cluster of white flowers, the purest, sweetest yet above the mold; her arm was in her. husband’s and her voice had somewhat of its oI(: ring. But as they neared the angle which, passed, would reveal the little grave, Bob felt her tremble and, looking down, saw a pale, quivering face, which hid itself against him, shaken with sobs. “ I can’t help it, Rob!” she gasped. “ Ihavetried. But when I think of my baby and the dreadful clay-heap over her, why, my heart bleeds again!” And she made a gesture as to show how the thought tore her. “My dearest,” said Rob, grieved through all his heart, “ you shall never see it so again, never, I promiseyoul” Thus speaking they moved on, her head bowed low, so that she only knew by their stopping that they had reached her baby’s bed. Rob started as if to utter an exclamation, then checked himself, and they stood in silence for awhile. “Look up, Helen,” he said at last, veiy gently. And lo! a marvel. The little mound smiled all over with pansies. They made a canopy above the harsh clay to hide it from the sight of love. With their root in death they opened fearless, innocent eyes, and spread abroad their store of purple and gold without stint to cheer the sad heart “ O Rob!” cried Helen kneeling down and laying her wet, bright face against the flowers, “ who could have done it? Oh, thank God! God bless her!” When the evening of that day closed in a quiet home, said one who loved Miss Ray: “ Did you notice her face to night? It was as bright as if she had seen a vision of angels.” But I think it was Helen’s blessing.— May Carroll , in N. Y. Graphic.

The Forestville correspondent of the Buffalo Expr&t relates this incident; “J. C. Mount was married to Mrs. Grace Ann Crowell, of Hamlett, this morning, and about noon the •couple drove to the rail way station to start on their wedding tour to New York. White unloading trunks the team became frightened and ran away, throwing the lady out of the wagon. In felling her head struck a post in front Ot Parsons & House’s store, opposite the depot, and she was so seriously injured that she only lived fifteen minutes. She was sixty-two years old.” Knurr, the German cannon-founder, has refused to sell the British government one of his big guns. In reply to a request for one, he said he was “willing to contract for the arming of as many forts and ships as England wanted, at home or abroad, but he must decline to part with specimens for experimental purposes.” Mb. Nash, the anatomist of the University of Pennsylvania, says that the average market value of skeletons is SSO, but that at present they rule dull at $35. Skulls well prepared, so as to show all the nerves, bring S2OO. Huckleberries are only three cents per quart in Maryland,# but yon may travel for 950 miles and not see a girl whose nose is free from freckles.—Exchange. When they catch a man gathering Delaware peaches at midnight they preserve whatever good traits he has in him by footing half a pint of salt into his tegs.