THE LADIES' FLORAL CABINET. 
315 
place with a halo of beauty and purity about her young 
life that commanded almost adoration from the few, 
rough, yet kind-hearted people. 
Nature was kindly, too. The sun never kissed her 
soft little cheeks, too roughly, and its most scorching 
ray only added a brighter tint to the long, fair hair 
which hung in waves below her waist, the pride and 
admiration of her friends. 
Yet it was hard, oven for a stranger, to look unmoved 
upon the great blue eyes, so pathetic in their blindness, 
and know that Lita Cohen could never see again. 
I think Lita herself minded it most after Warren, the 
poet of the camp, had been telling her of the rugged 
grandeur of the country about them, and described the 
singular beauty of the flowers which he brought her day 
after day, or when one of her big, burly friends laid in 
her hand the pictures of Iris children—the children 
whom she had learned to love as brothers and sisters. 
She had known about them all a long time, ever since 
she could remember, and they often sent her friendly 
messages and little presents which she used to sit hold¬ 
ing in her bands, a strange wistfulness in the big blue 
eyes, a great ache in the little tender heart, at thought 
that she must always feel but could never see. 
The little girl cared a great deal about all her friends; 
but lame Joe was her prime favorite, perhaps because 
he was lame. He had grown lamer than ever of late, 
and was failing very fast; yet nobody had told Lita of 
it; nobody could bear to break the news to her. She 
used to sit at his side by the hour, listening to him or 
repeating the childish stories which Warren had read to 
her. One day while she was sitting thus, patting his 
wrinkled cheeks with her soft hands, she stopped sud¬ 
denly, with a puzzled look in her face, as though a new 
thought had struck her. 
“The men say that the mines of this district don’t pay 
well enough, and they will shortly break up and go into 
another country. What will you and I do then, Uncle 
Joe?” she asked. 
A tear trickled down the old man’s wan cheek; he, 
too, was thinking of a journey into another country, 
and it wrenched his heart-strings to think of leaving 
Lita behind; but he wiped away the bright drops with 
the ragged sleeve of his coat, and choking down the sob 
in his throat made answer: 
“You will go with them, Lita, my child.” 
“ And you, too, Uncle Joe. What would you do here 
without me ? ” she asked laughingly, as she clung tighter 
to his hand. 
“Not much, to be sure, little one—not much.” He 
stroke d he long, silken hair tenderly, wishing that he 
might be able to tell her what no one else wanted to; 
but he had not the courage, and presently the little 
girl said: 
“ It is getting chilly, Uncle Joe; let’s go in.” 
But the old man went away and did not see her again 
until evening. He bade her “ good-night,” and slowly 
followed the retreating forms of the two gentlemen, 
Leyton and Spencer, wondering why she looked so pale 
to-night and clung so tightly around his neck at parting. 
He felt a strange chill pass over him whenever he 
thought of the music, but, by-and-by, he fell asleep and 
forgot it all. 
The threatened storm came; such a tempest as had 
not swept the valley since its settlement, five years be¬ 
fore. But the sun shone out brightly the next morning, 
and there was one, at least, who hailed its advent with 
a sigh of relief; that one was Joe Minion. Crushed, 
bruised and sorely wounded, he dragged himself from 
a heap of debris and looked about him. No one was 
stirring. Nearly all the others had chosen safer places 
than he and were sleeping soundly, now that the wild 
strife which had taken place so lately between the ele¬ 
ments bad ceased. 
How was it with little Lita? With an effort poor Joe 
sat up and looked. 
Where had stood a dwelling-place last night was only 
a heap of ruins now. 
“ Lita ! Lita ! ” called the old man piteously, but there 
came no answer. 
On his hands, with all his remaining strength muster¬ 
ed into the effort, he crept to the spot. No child was 
there. Slowly, every breath a pain almost unendurable, 
he drew himself to the top of a log to look. He saw her, 
and was not long in gaining the spot. 
Taking one limp hand in his and clasping it tightly, 
he sank down at her side with a great sigh, though 
there was a smile upon his face; the pain was all over. 
He had followed his little friend in her long, long jour¬ 
ney, had gone into that other country. 
A little later the miners, awakened by the faithful 
Nannon, who had just recovered sufficiently to crawl 
from the ruins, began a search for the missing. 
Away beyond the scattered remains of the cabin they 
found them—the two so strangely contrasting; one so 
old and gray, the other like a gleam of fight as she lay 
stretched out upon a bed of tangled grass and shining 
sand, the palor of death upon her fair, young face, and 
the giory of the sunshine in her golden hair. 
Adelaide E. Stelle. 
The Irish Christian Advocate, in speaking of the 
Children’s Flower Show recently held in Belfast, says: 
The committee instrumental in promoting the culti¬ 
vation of floriculture amongst the working-classes in 
their own dwelling-houses, are deserving of every en¬ 
couragement by the public. Their object is to show 
that flowers have a refining influence among all classes, 
and especially with children, and for then' labors in 
endeavoring to bring the young people of this town 
within the wholesome influence, they fully deserve the 
success which has attended their efforts up to the 
present. These shows were inaugurated about four or 
five years ago, by Mr. Thomas H. Browne and several 
friends, in connection with the Welsh Street District 
Sunday-school and Band of Hope, and since its forma¬ 
tion an annual show has been held, which was the 
means of bringing forward a considerable number of 
youthful exhibitors. 
The plants and flowers exhibited were divided into 
three classes, viz.: 1. Window flowers, consisting of 
white, scarlet and pi n k Geraniums (double and single); 
Fuschias (double and single); red, blue, white and pink 
Pansies. 3. Musk Plants, Hardy Ferns, Mignonette. 
3. Cut flowers, consisting of garden, hot-house and 
wild flowers, hand bouquets and bridal bouquets. 
Special prizes being given for the best exhibits in each 
class. At the close of the show a number of bouquets 
were sent to the Children’s Hospital. 
