Little Pollie / Or a Bunch of Violets

f thread, and on opening it, something dried and shrivelled fell to the ground. It was the bunch of violets, now withered, Pollie's first gift to him-the only gift he had ever receiv

e taken. Then Lizzie Stevens begged to be allowed to accompany the widow in her pious task, and just as the humble parish funeral was leaving the house, which had been but a miserable home for the dead child, Sally Grimes came up, and, taking Lizzie's hand silently, joined the three mourners. A large black cloak covered her patched but clean frock, and she wore an old black bonnet of her mother's, whi

he clouds had somewhat dispersed, though the late flowers which yet remained to gladden the earth drooped with the heavy moisture; and when the last words were spoken, an

and warbled forth such a hymn, so full of gladness, it se

surrection a

was but his frail mortality they mourned; his blest spirit,

ble tea for them all in Mrs. Turner's room; and it looked so cosy and home

e same cheerful person, but calm and subdued, as if she

e's fortune-making, as she used to do. It is true, she still brought the flowers for the child, but her whole mind seemed too abso

oment rest on her blighted child. So up in that little room, away from prying eyes, lived the mother and daughter. Nora was not idle. Not for worlds would she have rested dependent on that dear forgiving mother's hard earnings for h

r own homes after the peaceful hours spent with Mrs. Turner, the old woman sat for some

h she lo

ery sadly,"

work, and gazed at the trouble

stion: "I saw her this morning, and t

plied the poor mother; "but oh! Mrs. Turner,

le, and the worn wrinkled face was hidd

rk, and rising softly, laid her hand gent

right at last, in God's own time. Just think how once you

s for hours looking far-away like, as if she saw me not; yet once I was all to her. Ah, woe is me that I

into her aged friend's in token of sympathy with her grief. For some time Mrs. Flanagan was too absorbed with her great woe to hee

," she said timidly. "Nora will soon b

woman, laying her hand lovingly on the chil

atience with me, dearest; I am still your

ad entered the room, and had overheard

hard rough hand that had so toiled for her in the years gone by, and was willing stil

t when I sit and think, my sad thoughts fly back over the dreary de

er penitent child; then laying her head upon her bosom, she smoothed the be

beating of your heart, whose every throb, I know, is full of love for me. I will pray to forg

r garden, and we had to pluck what flowers we could from it. You, my poor child, passed by the blossoms, and gathered only weeds; but take hear

ich had divided the mother and daughter was fallen, and they