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24 TI-3
The Family
A SONG OF LOVE.
By Alfred Noyes.
Now the purple night is past.
Now the moon more faintly glows,
Dawn has through thy casement cast
Roses on thy breast, a rose.
Now the kisses are all done.
Now the world awakes anew;
Now the charmed hour is gone?
Let not love go, too.
When old winter, creeping nigh,
Sprinkles raven hair with white,
Dims the bfightly glancing eye,
Laughs-away the dancing light,
Roses may forget their sun,
Lilies may forget their dew.
Beauties perish, one by one?
Let not love go, too.
Palaces and towers of pride
Crumble year by year away;
Creeds, like robes, are laid aside,
Even our very tombs decay!
When the all-conquering moth and rust
unaw me goottiy garment through,
When the dust returns to dust,
Let not love go, too.
Kingdoms melt away like snow,
Goods are spent like wasting flames,
Hardly the new peoples know
Ineir divine, thrice-worshipped names!
At the last great hour of all,
When Thou makest all things new,
Father, hear Thy children call?
Let not love go, too.
?Alfred Noyes.
A TRANSPLANTED GARDEN.
We all shook our heads when we heard
Uncle Malcolm and Aunt Melissa had
sold their farm and moved Into the city,
to be near their married daughter.
"Aunt Melissa," we said, "will never
ohink in with city ways, and will pine
to death for her garden." The fame of
Aunt Melissa's flower garden had gone
abroad in the land, and her generosity
with flowers was a proverb.
It was several years before I could
visit them. Last summer I went. Alighting
from the electric cars at the street
designated, I knew the place at once.
Their house was a pretty modern one. set
in ample grounds, but they had painted
it white, witih green blinds, and around
the "yard" was a picket fence also white,
with an old-fashioned gate. Inside was
a mass of greenery and riot of color that
could only mean Aunt Melissa's garden.
No copyifet was Aunt Melissa of the
city lawns on either side, smoothly shaven
plots of green, with here and there
stiff flower beds of geometrical designs;
with her the country had moved into
the city. Down the walk she came hurrying
to meet me, the same in looks,
dress and cord.al greeting. The next
forenoon we spent in the garden.
"Bless your heart," said Aunt Melissa,
"you didn't think I'd give up my garden.
I just brought it along. I transplanted
everything I'd ever heard could be taken
up, and lots of things I'd heard couldn't.
"It beat all how well the poor things
took it. Syringa acted a little drooping
first along, but I soon brought her out of
r y
[E PRESBYTERIAN OF THE SOU!
it" (as though speaking of a human invalid).
"Then I brought some new-old bulbs,
and with the flower seeds I always save,
I've made the place quite home-like,
haven't 1?"
Had she, indeed! Here were all the
dear, homely annuals 1 knew so well?
borders of lobelia, ageratum, and sweet
alyssum, a "cozy corner" of hollyhocks,
a glowing h'edge of sweet peas, with
flowering shrubs and clambering vines on
every hand. It did me good to walk again
between the beds and beds of phlox, verbenas.
pinks, and mignonette. Indeed, to
tell half the flowers in Aunt Melissa's
garden would be to write a floral cata
logue.
"You've no idea," she went on. "what
a letter of introduction a garden is. Why,
I've got acquainted with more folks
through my flowers than I would with" a
whole pack of visiting cards.
"Myrtle and Malcom, my little grandchildren,
came in nearly every morning
after flowers for their teachers. Myrtle
had to bring her teacher to see grandma's
garden?the loveliest person, one of those
klndergartners, you know, and then nothing
would do but I must visit the kindergarten.
"Well." said Aunt MeHssn "tt a-oo
worth moving into the city just to see!
A child-garden, they call it. and it beats
mine all to pieces. Just below here Is
Miss Van Alen's private school. Very
high-faluten?the young girls would go by
in their coaches, and one pretty brownhaired
thing went in her own automobile.
Sometimes, on pleasant days, a group of
them would walk for fun, and they would
loiter past my garden and look and look,
till cne day I asked them politely to walk
in, and prettier mannered, sweeter girls
you never saw. Somehow it came around
that they belong to a Sunshine Society,
mey canea ii. me members carry flowers
to the sick and shut-ins, and send
them to the flower missions. Mostly
greenhouse flowers, they said, but mine
they thought ever so much nicer?it made
the other kind seem almost like artificial
flowers, one of them said. So we made
a plan to taae big bunches of old-fashioned
flowers down to the tenement district
every week, and the girls were just delighted.
Some cf them drive up and take
me down nearly every Wednesday afternoon.
"Never," solemnly asserted Aunt Melissa,
"did I know what flowers were for
until I saw those forlorn little waifs look
at them and stretch out their puny little
hands to clutch them. I could cry when
I think how years and years my garden
in the country was sheer waste! I always
had a crazy idea that rich folks in
the city were mostly cold and haughty.
uui muse i ve mei are as kind and sociable
when you come to know them, and
often just crazy to do Rood with their
money, once you show them how and
where.
"I must tell you," went on Aunt Melissa,
picking, as she talked, a great bunch of
flaming poppies for me, "about lovely
Miss M.'s brldai bouquet. She was a dear
young lady in the Bible class with me at
Sunday Schorl. She was what people call
the spoiled darling of a wealthy home,
only she wasn't spoiled at all. We got to
be great friends," and when she was mar
'H. February 24, 1909.
ried she would have nothing but creamy,
fragrant syringa biossonis for her 'shower'
bouquet. She told me her grandmother
ami mother both carried them, and she
had a sentiment about it; so l just roboed
my bush for her, and all the society
papers spoke of the original and charming
fancy. I was one of the guests, and
a sweeter bride never was in the olden
times. Just as long as they last our minister
has a vase of moss-roses on the
stand beside the pulpit. They were his
mother's favorite flower, and he says he
can preach better for looking at them.
Hut of all the people who fell in love with
my garden, the mnet pnri ,"
_ vmiiwuo vaoc wclS
Mr. B., a bank president and millionaire.
Not far from here, over on the avenue,
he hag a uome that is a palace. Every
once in a while, summer evenings, i
would see him walk by, back and forth,
on the sidewalk along the east side of my
garden. I knew him by sight and could
never guess why he did it. One evening
Malcolm and I stood out by the gate
watching the sunshine, just as we used to
do up in the country when the chores
were all done, when up stepped the great
financier, introducing himself, and asking
if he might view on the inside the row
of four-o'clocks that had attracted him
through the fence. 'Not since I was a
country boy,' said he, 'have I caught a
glimpse and whiff of iust thnsp
A row of them used to grow outside our
kitchen window, and I would give more
for a few like yours than for all the exotics
in my conservatories. They bring
back all that belongs to my boyhood!"
Poor man! I gave him a big bunch and
saved some seed for him, and, would you
believe it, he has a row of them, a row
of four-o'clockB, under his library window!
"I'm glad," concluded Aunt Melissa,
"that I moved my garden down; so many
people seemed to be waiting for it."
Just .here Uncle Malcolm appeared from
his special domain of the vegetable patch.
"It seems" oqM ?? *? *
? , ? .?u, iu in in preuy
well in the middle ->f this cfty block, and
Melissa she seems to fit, too; doesn't
she?"?Christian Work and Evangelist.
DR. SAMUEL WILSON DAVIES.
Hi# Thirty-fourth Anniversary at Fayetteville,
Ark.'
A record of the past achievements of
this church and the-work of Dr. S. W.
Davies, are so indissolubly connected
that we cannot, if we would, separate
the one from the other. The history
of this cnurch from a year after its
iounuing, tnirty-nve years ago, until fliOl
is a record of Dr. Davies' pastorate.
Like many another enterprise lor good,
this church has come from a small beginnings.
Before the war, Rev. Joshua F.
Green visited this community, where he
found a little Presbyterian organization,
to which he preached. But amid the
troublous times of civil war the little
congregation was scattered and dispersed.
The first real beginning may
be said to havo haa ito ?? - *
_ V MMU * to VI 15m lit U yiSlt
from Rev. C. M. Richards, who was given
charge of all the Presbyterian work north
of the mountains. He settled in Bentonvilla
and re-organized the church there,
and had charge of the evangelistic work