Kitabı oku: «Dew Drops, Vol. 37, No. 15, April 12, 1914», sayfa 5

WHERE THE JASMINE BELLS WERE RINGING

By Alice Miller

The pine woodland was dark and sweet and cool, and grandmother and little Emily were walking through it, hand in hand, enjoying its peace and fragrance. The trees grew so closely on either side of the narrow path that hardly a glimpse of blue sky could be seen overhead, and not a shaft of golden sunlight was bold enough to shine down through the glossy pine needles, as both were thinking.

"Why, yes there is!" little Emily called suddenly, as if answering her own thoughts aloud. "There's a sunbeam over there—right where the trees are thickest!"

Grandmother and she hurried to the spot; it seemed a little strange that the sunlight should have filtered down through such dense shade. And when they reached it, it was not sunshine at all. It was a delicate spray of clustered yellow bells, swaying from a slender thread of vine, and filling the spring air with delicious perfume.

"Oh, it's jasmine!" grandmother and little Emily exclaimed, at the same moment. And a mocking-bird, flying by, stopped a moment to trill a sweet strain, as if he, too, was glad to welcome back this lovely blossom of early spring.

Little Emily gathered the spray of golden bells very carefully, to carry it home to mother, who was not well enough to walk in the woodland and see it where it grew; and all that day and the next, the sweetness of the delicate flowers filled the room and seemed to speak of love and hope and cheer.

"They bring the sunshine and springtime right here to me," the little girl's mother said, looking lovingly at Emily. "They are like a small lassie I know, who helps to brighten all the dark places in my life."

Emily looked questioningly at her mother. "What does that mean, mamma?" she asked. And grandmother, who was standing by, said, with a smile:

"You thought the jasmine bells, shining in the dark wood, were a gleam of sunshine, dear, brightening up the gloom. There are sometimes dark places in our lives, you know; mother is having one just now, while she is not well enough to go out herself into the sunshine. And her little daughter, by being sweet and cheery, is just such a gleam of sunshine to her as the jasmine bells were to the dark pine woods."

Little Emily leaned over her mother for a kiss, then turned to touch caressingly the golden bells of the jasmine.

"Dear little sunshine flowers," she said, lovingly. "I'll try to remember you every day, and be a sunshine maker, too."

The more one controls his temper, the less will it control him.

KNOWLEDGE BOX

Berry

Berry is not something to eat, as you might think, but a big dog that has a very important place. He is the night watchdog of the Electra Company's factory in Cleveland, Ohio. Before Berry was given the job they had a watchman, but he had to be discharged because he was unfaithful, which Berry never is. He is well fitted for the place, as he is a big, powerful animal, part Newfoundland and part St. Bernard, and weighs 170 pounds. Not only does he do his duty well, but Berry works cheap, for he is counted an employé of the company, and is on the pay roll at seventy cents a week, which is the cost of the food he eats.

Berry is not only faithful, but one night he even proved himself a hero, in a battle with two desperate safe robbers, who had gained entrance to the office by sawing the lock, thinking, no doubt, that they could easily overcome the watchdog. But when the door was burst open, Berry instantly sprang at the burglars, and a terrible fight he had, for the men who had come armed with pieces of lead pipe, struck him most cruel blows.

But they struck in vain, for with howls of mingled pain and determination to guard his trust, Berry fought the robbers till they were glad to escape into the darkness. It had been a desperate struggle, and though Berry was terribly hurt, he had proved that he was both fearless and faithful. In the morning he was found lying beside the safe whose valuable contents he had kept from being touched, but with only enough of life left to give a feeble wag of welcome to his master, as though he would say, "You trusted me. and I have kept the trust."

So badly was Berry injured that he was taken to a dog hospital where for two weeks it was uncertain whether he would live or die. But at last he grew well so he was able to go back to work again, more loved and trusted than ever.

Though only a dog, was not Berry a hero?—Written for Dew Drops by Adele E. Thompson.