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- Copyright, 1907, by David CO. Cook Publishing Company.
Vou. VI. No. 27, $PeH
LISHED
Ww SBELY.
DAVID C. COOK PUBLISHING CO., Etarn, ILLINOIS, AND 36 WasnIncron Sr., Curcaco.
July 6, 1907.
Ruth Curtin, as a bevy of girls
were tripping down the steps of
a.grammar school. building. -“ I- want you
to go home with me and see my roses.
They are American Beauties, and - they
are beauties in earnest. Cousin Katie sent
them to me from the city for our flower
festival to-morrow.
“Oh, you should see Jennie Graves’ car-
nations! Ifer uncle gave her~-tbe plants
from his greenhouse, and she has been fore-
ing them for weeks to have“thenr ready.
Now they are all out, and the rooms are
sweet with their fragrane
“Beth White has pansies—a great bed
full of blossoms she’s going to pick to-
morrow. Oh, it will be lovely!”
By this time the two girls had arrived
at the house where great bunches of Amer-
ican Beauty roses upon their long. stems
showed through the window.
The happy owner of the roses had been
too abnorbed with her own thoughts.to ob-
serve the shadow which had fallen over
the usually bright. face beside her.
Annie Russell had feared she would be
asked what her flowers were to be.
A teacher of the “A” grammar grade
had arranged a flower festival to take the
place of their usual Rhetoricals.. Each girl
was to bring her favorite flowers, and to
give an original essay regarding them.
A friend of the teacher had offered a
prize of five dollars for the one whose
flowers and whose story concerning them
should be accounted the best.-
Annie Russell lived with her grandmother
in the outskirts of the town. No roses,
or carnations, or, pansies bad she, and
well- sie. knew that not a cent. could be
spared to buy’ them.
She had never failed at rhetoricals before,
but this time she could) see no help.
“Grandma shall not be worried!’ she had
bravely said to herself. But now the sight
of the American Beauty roses, and the en-
thusiastie account of what the other girls
of her class were to do, made her long
more than ever to be a flower-girl with the
rest.
With a very sober face she trudged to-
wards home. As she drew near the little
house where ‘she knew her grandmother
waited her coming, she gave. herself a lit-
tle shake, said resolutely. and half
aloud: “ Annie Russell, if you can’t, you
can’t, and there’s the end of it! And,
mind you, grandma is not to be worried!”
Almost as she spoke she saw a shimmer
of blue in the corner of her grandmothber’s
yard. She stopped stock still. ‘Why, I
forgot all about grandma’s blue flags!”
she said. “They are all cut—dozens of
them, But then, they are only blue flags—
such cheap, common things; and the other
girls have roses and carnations, and Sue
Price even las orange blossoms her father
’ has sent her from Florida.”
Then, the blithe girl gave herself an-
other shake and said cheerily : “ Annie Ius-
sell, what high notions are. you getting?
What if you can’t have roses-and carna-
tions and orange blossoms! You don’t de-
serve them, when here are all these flow-
ers waiting for you! Slight what’s at your
66 A NNITD RUSSELL, wait!” called
very door, and you'll never deserve anything
better—never!”. she added, emphasizing it
with a sturdy stamp of her foot. “ What
if they are only old-fashioned ‘blue flags!
They are sent to you—now use ’em!”
Over to. the bed of blue flags she ran.
“Why, I didn’t know you were so pretty! ad
she exclaimed, pramining the tall spikes of
bloom. “You. are lovely enough for
queens !”
Into the house she flew, as if, like Mer-
cury, her feet were winged. She poured
out her story to the grandmother, who had
planted the blue flags more than fifty years
efore.. She told her of her struggle, her
discontent, and her high resolve that dear
grandma should never know of her longing
and her disappointment. But now joy had
opened her lips. “ And to think, grandma,
that all-the while these had been growing
right in our own yard!” she exclaimed.
Grandmother ara looked lovingly at
the brave girl whose unselfishness had won
a victory. Maumee
“They are beautiful, grandma,” said!
Annie, “I never knew before
that they were so beautiful.
Curtis had read her essay, telling the pretty | |
history of the American. Beauty roses— |
how they were “ improved,” as the florists |
say, from the sweet, wild rose of Ireland—
Annie Russell was called, and with the|
jar of Grandma Lussell’s old-fashioned
flags beside. her, proclaiming their own
charms, she told the story of the iris.
When the prize was awarded, it was the
blue flags that won it.
—_+—_—.
JUST THIS MINUTE.
If we're thoughtful just this minute
In whate’er we say and do.
If we put a purpose in it
That is honest through and through,
We shall gladden life, and give it
Grace to make it all sublime;
For, though life is long, we live it
Just this minute at a time.
Just this minute we are going
Toward the right or toward the wrong;
Just this minute we are sowing
Seeds of sorrow or of song;
Just this minute we are thinking
Of the ways that lead to God,
Or in idle dreams are sinking
To the level of the clod.
Yesterday is gone; to-morrow
Never comes within our grasp;
Just this minute’s joy or sorrow,
That is all our hands may clasp.
Just this minute! Let Bs take it
As a pearl of precious price,
find with high endeavor make it
» Fit-to sbine-in paradise. ‘
—Nixon Waterman.
A SUMMER’S SACRIFICE.
BY HATTIE LUMMIS SMITH.
“T am very sorry, Barbara,” said Mrs.
Graham gently.
For answer Barbara hid her thin face in
her hands and cried. She was a pale girl,
the daughter of a stout old German farmer
who was a profound believer in hard work
both for himself and his family, And so
it happened that when other girls were
tending their dolls, Barbara was doing-a
woman’s work, and in a round of ceaseless
drudgery was exhausting the strength and
vigor of her young life. A year before,
she had left the farm and found in Mrs,
Graham’s pleasant nursery a sort of earthly
Paradise. But lately something was wrong.
Nature was demanding a recompense for
the long over-taxation of the girl’s strength.
Poor Barbara drooped visibly as the sum-
mer came on, and eyen little Rb seemed
too heavy for her tired arms,
“T don’t know what to Qo’ about the
girl,” Mrs. Graham said to her husband.
“Tf I could take care of Robbie myself
and give her.a few weeks+of absolute rest,
perhaps she would. recover her strength;
but I am afraid I can’t possibly undertake
any extra burden.”
And so it. came about that this pleasant
morning in June, as gently as she could,
she had given Barbara warning. ~
“But I don’t know what I shall do,
ma’am!” cried the girl, sobbing. “I don’t
dare to go back to father’s, and I haven’t
any friends anywhere.”
Just at that moment the door opened and
laire came in. Claire had
always thought the sunny nur-
But what can I ever say about
them? I never read anything
about blue flags.”
“Oh, my child, you have a
royal subject!” her grand-
mother answered. “ You have
never’ heard them called: any.
thing but blue flags? -That is
their old-fashioned name.
They have other and very
fashionable, and even cla
names that are famous in his.
tory and in myth and story
I have always liked the old-
fashioned name because it was
the one by whicb my mother
called them, I love them be-
cause they filled a shady cor
ner in the-yard at my. girl-
hood’s home. But have you
never read of the fleur-de-lis
of Franée?- Surely you have
Do you not know that the fleur-
de-lis is the French national
ilower and is borne upon the
escutcheon of France? — Those
fleurs-de-lis are but French
cousins of our own New Eng-
land blue flags. There is an
old legend, too, that the reed
which was put into the hand
of our Savior when the pur-
ple robe and the crown of
thorns were put upon ‘him in
cruel. mocking, was the stem
of this flower. The old Greeks
called it the iris, which means
a rainbow. They, too, had
their legends concerning the
beautiful blossom.”
So it was that the next day
Annie Russell carried proudly her great
sheaf of blue flags, and as she entered the
hall she caught the words, spoken by a lady
from the city’ who was to be one of the
the beautiful iris!
Do look at are books, they are histories
sery the pleasantest room in
the house, but somehow the
sunshine seemed out-of place
that morning as she looked at
Sarbara’s bowed~ figure and
her mother’s grave face. Even
little Rob opened his blue eyes
with a comical look of dismay:
“Why, Barbara, what is
the matter?” Claire asked,
alarmed at the sound of the
girl’s sobs.
“Oh, Miss Claire, I’ve got
to leave!” cried Barbara; and
a throwing her apron over her
: head, she rushed © desperately
out of the room.
Claire raised her startled
: eyes’ to her mother’s face.
hes “Ob, mamma!” she said half
ene reproachfully,
know, my dear
answered Mrs, Graham with a
worried look. “ But Barbara
is really unable to take care
of Rob any longer. You are
going to the mountains next
week, and I shall miss the
help you generally give me,
Aunt Mary, since her. illness,
requires so much of my time
and strength that I really
need a capable nurse girl. It
seems almost a cruel thing to
send Barbara away; but I’m
afraid it’s necessary.”
Mrs. Graham went slowly
OH, TIE BEAUTIFUL IRIs!”
HOME ADORNMENTS.
A room without pictures, says Dr. Down-
ing, is like a room without windows. | Pic-
tures. are loopholes of escape to the soul,
leading to other scenes and other. spheres.
Pictures are consolers of -loneliness; they
and. sermons,
e can read without the trouble of
a
So it was, too, that directly after Ruth Aiing over the
out of the room, and Claire,
eatching her little brother in
her arms, sat down to think
the matter over,
“Poor Barbara! We wish we were rich,
don’t we, Rob? Then we'd send her off to
the country where she could grow well and
strong again.”
Claire stopped as if a new and not very
pleasant thought: had struck her. “Ob,
dear!” she cried petulantly after a mo-
PARE eh Le aac
fice
AETV Shy hd o th be cea fierce Ca
