TIIE LADIES ’ FLORAL CABINET. 
365 
each side of the tiny graveled walk, and under the Rose 
bushes, below the windows, it lifted its odorous spikes 
wafting its perfume abroad until the air was heavy 
with its fragrance. Close beside the little gate were 
two round beds of it- He noted the name of the street, 
and taking his bearings found his way back. 
In conversation that evening, he remarked on some 
of the pretty grounds he had noticed, and mentioned 
this one, asking if they knew who lived there. 
“ O, yes. Widow Bohannon and her daughter, Cora. 
She has a little property and Cora writes for the press.” 
“ Does she ever give lectures?” asked Jim, giving his 
sister a queer look. 
“Why, no; or, at least, I never heard that she did. 
Did you ever see such quantities of Mignonette as they 
have? and it is quite a romantic story. She, Cora, has one 
brother, and some ten years ago he ran away from 
home with a wild idea, of making his fortune and sup¬ 
porting his mother and sister. He obtained a good 
place and fair salary, but wasn’t contented with it. 
Cora used to tell me that he was all the time fretting 
for something better. About two years ago her letters 
began returning to her and now they have lost all 
trace of him. He used to be very fond of Mignonette, 
and always called Cora by it. So now she raises quan¬ 
tities of it, hoping that if he ever seeks the old home 
repentant, he will feel sure of a welcome when he sees 
his favorite blossom everywhere.” 
Elsie, like the dear girl she was, came at once to her 
brother’s help by saying: 
‘ ‘ How I would love to meet her ! Can’t we call on 
her?” 
“ Certainly; to-morrow, if you like.” • 
So to-morrow it was. They found her busy among 
her flowers, with a basket beside her nearly filled with 
Mignonettes. She led the way to the house, the interior 
of which our friends found quite as attractive as the 
surroundings outside. Mr. Claxton was charmed with 
Miss Bohannon, and enjoyed the call if no one else did. 
As they were saying good-bye after a very pleasant 
hour, our Jimmie asked if he might be allowed to call 
in the evening, adding, ‘ ‘ I have something to tell you 
which I think will interest you.” 
Her thoughts flew instantly to the absent one, and 
she gave him permission cordially. 
Jim felt, to state it mildly, quite awkward, when he 
found himself once more in Cora’s cozy little parlor. 
She waited for him to speak, though there was an eager 
look in her eyes which belied her quiet manner. 
“Until quite recently,” he began, “I have been a 
clerk in the dead-letter department, and was anything 
but contented with my position or salary. I got 
through each day as easily as I could, and was glad 
when it was over. One day, while feeling more dis¬ 
gusted and despondent than usual, I opened a letter 
whose penmanship held my attention. 1 glanced it 
over to find some clues, turned back and read it 
from beginning to end, then copied it entire. It 
made a man of me, and perhaps you would like to see 
it.” 
She nodded, her cheeks painfully flushed, and held 
her hand for the letter. After reading a little, she said, 
“Yes; I remember it well. It is one I wrote to Bennie, 
poor, dear Bennie ! ” 
They talked of him; of her literary work and kindred 
subjects, Jim’s new home in the South till the clock 
struck ten. Rising to go he asked if he might write her 
of his arrival, and if she would reply. “Why—yes,’ 
she said after a pause, “ and if you ever meet Bennie, 
tell him not to delay his return any longer. Tell him 
his mother misses and mourns for him daily.” 
“I will,” he replied, almost reverently, and said 
good-bye. 
The letters sped back and forth some months, and 
one day there came to Claxton a joyful one from Cora, 
announcing Bennie’s return; and, contrary to the story¬ 
books again, not in the role of the prodigal, but with a 
competency and a wife. 
To which Jim made a sympathetic reply; and asserted 
that Elsie was bound up in her husband, that now she, 
Cora, was bound up in her brother, and what he was 
to do was an open question. Could she, and would she 
give him any encouragement to come North and see if 
he could get some Mignonette to help him bear his 
loneliness better. 
Her mother would be pleased to see him, she replied 
demurely; also that the Mignonette was in full bloom 
in boxes in the house, and she would gladly give him 
some plants to carry back. 
He went; and when he returned not only the few 
plants, but a lovely bride who answered to the same 
name accompanied him. 
In the course of two years Bennie and his family, in¬ 
cluding the dear mother, had gone to live near them in 
their Florida home. The last I knew they were discuss¬ 
ing the name of tljjgp new town. Jim declared it 
should be Mignonette; and I suspect he will have his 
way. Amabel C. Andrews. 
NAMES THAT MISLEAD. 
The Providence Journal calls attention to some 
curiosities of misnomer. Black lead is not lead 
at all, but a compound of carbon and a small 
quantity of iron. Brazilian grass never grew in 
Brazil, and is not grass; it is nothing but strips of 
Palm leaf. Burgundy pitch is not pitch, and does not 
come from Burgundy; the greater part of it is resin and 
Palm-oil. Catgut is made from the entrails of sheep. 
Cuttle-bone is not bone, but a kind of chalk once en¬ 
closed in the fossil remains of extinct specimens of 
cuttle-fish. German silver was not invented in Ger¬ 
many, and does not contain a particle of silver. Cleo¬ 
patra’s Needle was not erected by the Egyptian queen, 
nor in her honor. Pompey’s pillar had no historical 
connection with Pompey in any way. Sealing-wax 
does not contain a particle of wax, but is composed of 
Venice turpentine, shellac and cinnabar. The Tube¬ 
rose is no Rose, but a species of Polianthes. Turkish 
baths did not originate in Turkey, and are not 
baths, but heated chambers. Whalebone is not bone, 
and is said not to possess a single property of 
bone. 
