Fanny, the Flower-Girl; or, Honesty Rewarded. To Which are Added Other Tales Read online

  Produced by Avinash Kothare, Tiffany Vergon, Charles Franks,and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. HTML versionby Al Haines.

  FANNY, THE FLOWER-GIRL;

  OR, HONESTY REWARDED.

  TO WHICH ARE ADDED OTHER TALES.

  BY SELINA BUNBURY.

  FANNY, THE FLOWER-GIRL

  "Come, buy my flowers; flowers fresh and fair. Come, buy my flowers.Please ma'am, buy a nice bunch of flowers, very pretty ones, ma'am.Please, sir, to have some flowers; nice, fresh ones, miss; only justgathered; please look."

  Thus spoke, or sometimes sung, a little girl of perhaps eight yearsold, holding in her hand a neat small basket, on the top of which lay aclean white cloth, to shade from the sun the flowers which she praisedso highly, and a little bunch of which she presented to almost everypasser-by, in the hope of finding purchasers; while, after one hadpassed rudely on, another had looked at her young face and smiled,another had said, "What a nice child!" but not one had taken theflowers, and left the penny or the half-penny that was to pay for themthe little girl, as if accustomed to all this, only arranged again thepretty nosegays that had been disarranged in the vain hope of sellingthem, and commenced anew in her pretty singing tone, "Come, buy myflowers; flowers fresh and fair."

  "Your flowers are sadly withered, my little maid," said a kind,country-looking gentleman, who was buying some vegetables at a stallnear her.

  "Oh, sir! I have fresh ones, here, sir; please look;" and the childlifted up the cover of her basket, and drew from the very bottom abunch of blossoms on which the dew of morning still rested.

  "Please to see, sir; a pretty rose, sir, and these pinks andmignonette, and a bunch of jessamine, sir, and all for one penny."

  "Bless thee! pretty dear!" said the old lame vegetable-seller, "thou'ltmake a good market-woman one of these days. Your honor would do well tobuy her flowers, sir, she has got no mother or father, God help her,and works for a sick grandmother."

  "Poor child!" said the old gentleman. "Here, then, little one, give methree nice nosegays, and there is sixpence for you."

  With delight sparkling in every feature of her face, and her colorchanged to crimson with joy, the little flower-girl received in onehand the unusual piece of money; and setting her basket on the ground,began hastily and tremblingly to pick out nearly half its contents asthe price of the sixpence; but the gentleman stooped down, and takingup at random three bunches of the flowers, which were not the freshest,said,

  "Here, these will do; keep the rest for a more difficult customer. Be agood child; pray to God, and serve Him, and you will find He is theFather of the fatherless."

  And so he went away; and the flower-girl, without waiting to put herbasket in order, turned to the old vegetable-seller, and cried,"Sixpence! a whole sixpence, and all at once. What will grandmother saynow? See!" and opening her hand, she displayed its shining before herneighbor's eyes.

  "Eh!" exclaimed the old man, as he approached his eyes nearer to it."Eh! what is this? why thou hast twenty sixpences there; this is ahalf-sovereign!"

  "Twenty sixpences! why the gentleman said, there is sixpence for thee,"said the child.

  "Because he didn't know his mistake," replied the other; "I saw himtake the piece out of his waistcoat-pocket without looking."

  "Oh dear! what shall I do?" cried the little girl.

  "Why, thou must keep it, to be sure," replied the old man; "give it tothy grandmother, she will know what to do with it, I warrant thee."

  "But I must first try to find the good gentleman, and tell him of hismistake," said the child. "I know what grandmother would say else; andhe cannot be far off, I think, because he was so fat; he will go slow,I am sure, this hot morning. Here, Mr. Williams, take care of mybasket, please, till I come back."

  And without a word more, the flower-girl put down her little basket atthe foot of the vegetable-stall, and ran away as fast as she could go.

  When she turned out of the market-place, she found, early as it was,that the street before her was pretty full; but as from the passage thegentleman had taken to leave the market-place, she knew he could onlyhave gone in one direction, she had still hopes of finding him; and sheran on and on, until she actually thought she saw the very personbefore her; he had just taken off his hat, and was wiping his foreheadwith his handkerchief.

  "That is him," said the little flower-girl, "I am certain;" but just asshe spoke, some persons came between her and the gentleman, and shecould not see him. Still she kept running on; now passing off thefoot-path into the street, and then seeing the fat gentleman stillbefore her; and then again getting on the foot-path, and losing sightof him, until at last she came up quite close to him, as he was walkingslowly, and wiping the drops of heat from his forehead.

  The poor child was then quite out of breath; and when she got up to himshe could not call out to him to stop, nor say one word; so she caughthold of the skirt of his coat, and gave it a strong pull.

  The gentleman started, and clapped one hand on his coat-pocket, andraised up his cane in the other, for he was quite sure it was apickpocket at his coat. But when he turned, he saw the breathlesslittle flower-girl, and he looked rather sternly at her, and said,

  "Well, what do you want; what are you about? eh!"

  "Oh, sir!" said the girl; and then she began to cough, for her breathwas quite spent. "See, sir; you said you gave me sixpence, and Mr.Williams says there are twenty sixpences in this little bit of money."

  "Dear me!" said the gentleman; "is it possible? could I have done sucha thing?" and he began to fumble in his waistcoat pocket.

  "Well, really it is true enough," he added, as he drew out a sixpence."See what it is to put gold and silver together."

  "I wish he would give it to me," thought the little flower-girl; "howhappy it would make poor granny; and perhaps he has got a good manymore of these pretty gold pieces."

  But the old gentleman put out his hand, and took it, and turned it overand over, and seemed to think a little; and then he put his hand intohis pocket again, and took out his purse; and he put the half-sovereigninto the purse, and took out of it another sixpence.

  "Well," he said, "there is the sixpence I owe you for the flowers; youhave done right to bring me back this piece of gold; and there isanother sixpence for your race; it is not a reward, mind, for honestyis only our duty, and you only did what is right; but you are tired,and have left your employment, and perhaps lost a customer, so I giveyou the other sixpence to make you amends."

  "Thank you, sir," said the flower-girl, curtseying; and taking the twosixpences into her hand with a delighted smile, was going to run backagain, when the old gentleman, pulling out a pocket-book, said, "Stay amoment; you are an orphan, they tell me; what is your name?"

  "Fanny, sir."

  "Fanny what?"

  "Please, I don't know, sir; grandmother is Mrs. Newton, sir; but shesays she is not my grandmother either, sir."

  "Well, tell me where Mrs. Newton lives," said the gentleman, afterlooking at her a minute or so, as if trying to make out what she meant.

  So Fanny told him, and he wrote it down in his pocket-book, and thenread over what he had written to her, and she said it was right.

  "Now, then, run away back," said he, "and sell all your flowers, if youcan, before they wither, for they will not last long this warm day;flowers are like youth and beauty--do you ever think of that? even therose withereth afore it groweth up." And this fat gentleman looked verysad, for he had lost all his children in their youth.

  "O yes! sir; I know a verse wh
ich says that," replied Fanny. "All fleshis grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of grass--butgood morning, and thank you, sir," and away Fanny ran.

  And now, before going on with my story, I must go back to tell who andwhat Fanny, the flower-girl, was.

  Mrs. Newton, whom she called her grandmother, was now a poor old woman,confined to her bed by a long and trying illness, that had nearlydeprived her of the use of her limbs. But she had not been always thusafflicted. Some years before, Mrs. Newton lived in a neat cottage nearthe road-side, two or three miles from one of the great sea-port townsof England. Her husband had good employment, and they were bothcomfortable and happy.

  Just eight years from this time, it happened that one warm summer'sday, Mrs. Newton went to look out from her cottage door down the road,and she saw a young woman standing there, leaning against a tree, andlooking very faint and weak.

  She was touched with pity and asked the poor traveller to walk into herhouse and rest. The young woman thankfully consented, for she said shewas very ill; but she added, that her husband was coming after her,having been obliged to turn back for a parcel that was left behind atthe house where they had halted some time before, and therefore shewould sit near the door and watch for him.

  Before, however, the husband came, the poor woman was taken dreadfullyill; and when he did arrive, good Mrs. Newton could not bear to put thepoor creature out of the house in such a state; she became worse andworse. In short, that poor young woman was Fanny's mother, and whenlittle Fanny was born, that poor sick mother died, and Fanny never sawa mother's smile.

  The day after the young woman's death, kind Mrs. Newton came into theroom where her cold body was laid out on the bed; and there was herhusband, a young, strong-looking man, sitting beside it; his elbowswere on his knees, and his face was hid in his open hands.

  Mrs. Newton had the baby in her arms, and she spoke to its father asshe came in; he looked up to her; his own face was as pale as death;and he looked at her without saying a word. She saw he was in too muchgrief either to speak or weep. So she went over silently to him, andput the little baby into his arms, and then said, "May the Lord lookdown with pity on you both."

  As soon as the unhappy young man heard these compassionate words, andsaw the face of his pretty, peaceful babe, he burst into tears; theyrolled in large drops down on the infant's head.

  Then in a short time he was able to speak, and he told Mrs. Newton hissad little history; how he had no one in the whole world to look withpity on him, or his motherless child; and how God alone was his hope inthis day of calamity. His father had been displeased with him becausehe had married that young woman, whom he dearly loved; and he had givenhim some money that was his portion, and would do nothing else for him.The young man had taken some land and a house, but as the rent was toohigh, he could not make enough of the land to pay it; so he had beenobliged to sell all his goods, and he had only as much money left aswould, with great saving, carry him to America, where he had a brotherwho advised him to go out there.

  "And now," said he, looking over at the pale face of his dear wife,"What shall I do with the little creature she has left me? how shall Icarry it over the wide ocean without a mother to care for it, and nurseit?"

  "You cannot do so," said Mrs. Newton, wiping her eyes; "leave it withme; I have no children of my own, my husband would like to have one;this babe shall lie in my bosom, and be unto me as a daughter. I willnurse it for you until you are settled in America, and send or come forit."

  The young man wept with gratitude; he wanted to know how he was torepay Mrs. Newton, but she said for the present she did not wantpayment, that it would be a pleasure to her to have the baby; and itwould be time enough to talk about payment when the father was able toclaim it, and take it to a home.

  So the next day they buried the poor young woman, and soon after theyoung man went away and sailed off to America, and from that day tothis Mrs. Newton had never heard anything of him.

  As she had said, that poor little motherless babe lay in her bosom, andwas unto her as a daughter; she loved it; she loved it when it was ahelpless little thing, weak and sickly; she loved it when it grew apretty lively baby, and would set its little feet on her knees, andcrow and caper before her face; she loved it when it began to playaround her as she sat at work, to lisp out the word "Ganny," for shetaught it to call her grandmother; she loved it when it would followher into her nice garden, and pick a flower and carry it to her, as shesat in the little arbor; and she, holding the flower, would talk to itof God who made the flower, and made the bee that drew honey from theflower, and made the sun that caused the flower to grow, and the lightthat gave the flower its colors, and the rain that watered it, and theearth that nourished it. And she loved that child when it came backfrom the infant school, and climbed up on her lap, or stood with itshands behind its back, to repeat some pretty verses about flowers, orabout the God who made them. That child was Fanny, the flower-girl; andah! how little did good Mrs. Newton think she would be selling flowersin the streets to help to support her.

  But it came to pass, that when Fanny was nearly six years old, Mrs.Newton's husband fell very ill; it was a very bad, and very expensiveillness, for poor Mrs. Newton was so uneasy, she would sometimes havetwo doctors to see him; but all would not do; he died: and Mrs. Newtonwas left very poorly off.

  In a short time she found she could not keep on her pretty cottage; shewas obliged to leave it; and the church where she had gone every Sundayfor so many years; and the church-yard where her husband was buried,and little Fanny's mother; and the infant school where Fanny learned somuch; and the dear little garden, and the flowers that were Fanny'steachers and favorites. Oh! how sorry was poor Mrs. Newton. But even alittle child can give comfort; and so little Fanny, perhaps withoutthinking to do so, did; for when Mrs. Newton for the last time sat outin her garden, and saw the setting sun go down, and told Fanny she wasgoing to leave that pretty garden, where she had from infancy beentaught to know God's works, the child looked very sad and thoughtfulindeed, for some time; but afterwards coming up to her, said,

  "But, grandmother, we shall not leave God, shall we? for you say God iseverywhere, and He will be in London too."

  And oh! how that thought consoled poor Mrs. Newton; she did not leaveGod,--God did not leave her.

  So she left the abode of her younger years--the scene of her widowhood;and she went away to hire a poor lodging in the outlets of London; buther God was with her, and the child she had nursed in her prosperitywas her comfort in adversity.

  Matters, however, went no better when she lived with little Fanny in apoor lodging. She had only one friend in London, and she lived at adistance from her. Mrs. Newton fell ill; there was no one to nurse herbut Fanny; she could no longer pay for her schooling, and sometimes shewas not able to teach her herself.

  All this seemed very hard, and very trying; and one would have beentempted to think that God was no longer with poor Mrs. Newton; thatwhen she had left her cottage she had left the God who had been so goodto her.

  But this would have been a great mistake. God was with Mrs. Newton; Hesaw fit to try and afflict her; but He gave her strength and patienceto bear her trials and afflictions.

  One afternoon her friend came to pay her a visit: she was going out alittle way into the country to see a relation who had a very finenursery-garden, and she begged Mrs. Newton to let little Fanny go withher own daughter. Mrs. Newton was very glad to do so for she thought itwould be a nice amusement for Fanny.

  The nurseryman was very kind to her; and when she was going away gaveher a fine bunch of flowers. Fanny was in great delight, for she lovedflowers and knew her dear grandmother loved them too. But as she wascoming back, and just as she was entering the streets, she met a ladyand a little boy of about three years old, who directly held out hishands and began to beg for the flowers. His mamma stopped, and as Fannywas very poorly dressed, she thought it probable that she would sellher nosegay, and so she said,

 
; "Will you give that bunch of flowers to my little boy, and I will payyou for it?"

  "Please, ma'am, they are for grandmother," said Fanny blushing, andthinking she ought to give the flowers directly, and without money toany one who wished for them.

  "But perhaps your grand-mother would rather have this sixpence?" saidthe lady. And Mrs. Newton's friend, who had just come up, said,

  "Well, my dear, take the lady's sixpence, and let her have the flowersif she wishes for them."

  So Fanny held the flowers to the lady, who took them and put thesixpence in her hand. Fanny wished much to ask for one rose, but shethought it would not be right to do so, when the lady had bought themall: and she looked at them so very longingly that the lady asked ifshe were sorry to part with them.

  "Oh! no, ma'am," cried her friend, "she is not at all sorry--come now,don't be a fool, child," she whispered, and led Fanny on.

  "That is a good bargain for you," she added as she went on; "thatspoiled little master has his own way, I think; it would be well foryou, and your grandmother too, if you could sell sixpenny worth offlowers every day."

  "Do you think I could, ma'am?" said Fanny, opening her hand and lookingat her sixpence, "this will buy something to do poor granny good; doyou think Mr. Simpson would give me a nosegay every day?"

  "If you were to pay him for it, he would," said her friend; "supposeyou were to go every morning about five o'clock, as many others do, andbuy some flowers, and then sell them at the market; you might earnsomething, and that would be better than being idle, when poor Mrs.Newton is not able to do for herself and you."

  So when Fanny got back, she gave her dear grandmother the sixpence.

  "The Lord be praised!" said Mrs. Newton, "for I scarcely knew how I wasto get a loaf of bread for thee or myself to-morrow."

  And then Fanny told her the plan she had formed about the flowers.

  Mrs. Newton was very sorry to think her dear child should be obliged tostand in a market place, or in the public streets, to offer anythingfor sale; but she said, "Surely it is Providence has opened this meansof gaining a little bread, while I am laid here unable to do anything;and shall I not trust that Providence with the care of my darlingchild?"

  So from this time forth little Fanny set off every morning before fiveo'clock, to the nursery garden; and the nursery-man was very kind toher, and always gave her the nicest flowers; and instead of sittingdown with the great girls, who went there also for flowers orvegetables, and tying them up in bunches, Fanny put them altogether inher little basket, and went away to her grandmother's room, and spreadthem out on the little table that poor Mrs. Newton might see them,while the sweet dew was yet sparkling on their bright leaves.

  Then she would tell how beautiful the garden looked at that sweet earlyhour; and Mrs. Newton would listen with pleasure, for she loved agarden. She used to say, that God placed man in a garden when he washappy and holy; and when he was sinful and sorrowful, it was in agarden that the blessed Saviour wept and prayed for the sin of theworld; and when his death had made atonement for that sin, it was in agarden his blessed body was laid.

  Mrs. Newton taught Fanny many things from flowers; she was not a badteacher, in her own simple way, but Jesus Christ, who was the bestteacher the world ever had, instructed his disciples from vines andlilies, corn and fruit, and birds, and all natural things around them.

  And while Fanny tied up her bunches of flowers, she would repeat someverses from the Holy Scriptures, such as this, "O Lord, how manifoldare thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full ofthy riches." And afterwards she would repeat such pretty lines asthese:--

  "Not worlds on worlds, in varied form, Need we, to tell a God is here; The daisy, saved from winter's storm, Speaks of his hand in lines as clear.

  "For who but He who formed the skies, And poured the day-spring's living flood, Wondrous alike in all He tries, Could rear the daisy's simple bud!

  "Mould its green cup, its wiry stem, Its fringed border nicely spin; And cut the gold-embossed gem, That, shrined in silver, shines within;

  "And fling it, unrestrained and free, O'er hill, and dale, and desert sod, That man, where'er he walks, may see, In every step the trace of God."

  "And I, too, have had my daisy given to me," poor Mrs. Newton wouldsay, with tearful eyes, as she gazed on her little flower-girl; "I toohave my daisy, and though it may be little cared for in the world, ortrodden under foot of men, yet will it ever bear, I trust, the trace ofGod."

  But it happened the very morning that the gentleman had given Fanny thehalf-sovereign in mistake, Mrs. Newton's money was quite spent; and shewas much troubled, thinking the child must go the next morning to thegarden without money to pay for her flowers, for she did not think itlikely she would sell enough to buy what they required, and pay forthem also; so she told Fanny she must ask Mr. Simpson to let her owehim for a day or two until she got a little money she expected.

  Fanny went therefore, and said this to the kind man at the garden; andhe put his hand on her head, and said, "My pretty little girl, you mayowe me as long as you please, for you are a good child, and God willprosper you."

  So Fanny went back in great delight, and told this to Mrs. Newton; andto cheer her still more, she chose for her morning verse, the advicethat our Lord gave to all those who were careful and troubled about thethings of this life "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow;they toil not, neither do they spin; and yet I say unto you thatSolomon in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore,if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrowis cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, oh ye oflittle faith?"

  And then she repeated some verses which both she and Mrs. Newton likedvery much.

  "Lo! the lilies of the field, How their leaves instruction yield! Hark to nature's lesson, given By the blessed birds of heaven.

  "Say with richer crimson glows, The kingly mantle than the rose; Say are kings more richly dressed, Than the lily's glowing vest!

  "Grandmother I forget the next verse," said Fanny, interruptingherself; "I know it is something about lilies not spinning; but thencomes this verse--

  "Barns, nor hoarded store have we"--

  "It is not the lilies, grandmother, but the blessed birds that arespeaking now--

  "Barns, nor hoarded store have we, Yet we carol joyously; Mortals, fly from doubt and sorrow, God provideth for the morrow."

  Poor Mrs. Newton clasped her thin hands, and looked up, and prayed likethe disciples, "Lord, increase our faith!"

  "Eh!" said she, afterwards, "is it not strange that we can trust ourLord and Saviour with the care of our souls for eternity, and we cannottrust Him with that of our bodies for a day."

  Well! this was poor Mrs. Newton's state on that day, when the gentlemangave Fanny the half-sovereign instead of sixpence, for her flowers.

  When the little flower-girl came back from her race with her twosixpences, she found the old vegetable-seller had got her three or fourpennies more, by merely showing her basket, and telling why it was leftat his stall; and so every one left a penny for the honest child, andhoped the gentleman would reward her well. The old man at the stallsaid it was very shabby of him only to give her sixpence; but when shewent home with three sixpences and told Mrs. Newton this story, shekissed her little girl very fondly, but said the gentleman was good togive her sixpence, for he had no right to give her anything, she hadonly done her duty.

  "But, grandmother," said Fanny, "when I saw that pretty half-sovereigndropping down to his purse, I could not help wishing he would give itto me."

  "And what commandment did you break then, my child?"

  "Not the eighth--if I had kept the half-sovereign I should have brokenit," said Fanny, "for that says, thou shalt not steal--what commandmentdid I break, grandmother; for I did not steal?"

  "When we desire to have what is not ours Fanny, what do we do? wecovet; do we not?"
/>
  "Oh! yes--thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's goods," cried Fanny,"that is the tenth commandment; and that half-sovereign was myneighbor's goods, and that fat gentleman was my neighbor. But,grandmother, it is very easy to break the tenth commandment."

  "Very easy indeed, my dear," said Mrs. Newton, with first a faintsmile, and then a deep sigh, "therefore," she added, "we ought alwaysto pray like David, 'Turn away mine eyes from beholding vanity.'"

  There is a very common saying, that when things are at the worst theymend. It is hard to say when matters are at the worst; poor Mrs. Newtonknew they might yet be worse with her; but certainly, they were verybad; and a few days after this, as Fanny was tying up her flowers asusual, she lay on her bed thinking what she was to do, and praying thatGod would direct her to some way of providing for the poor child.

  While she was thinking and praying, tears stole down her face; Fannysaw them, and stopped her work, and looked sorrowfully at her--

  "Now you are crying again, grandmother, she said," and that's whatmakes me break the tenth commandment, for I can't help wishing thegentleman had given me that half-sovereign. But I will say the versesagain to-day about the lilies and birds; for you know I said thatmorning--

  'Mortals fly from doubt and sorrow, God provideth for the morrow,'

  and when I came back with my three sixpences, you said God _had_provided for the morrow, for you had only two or three pennies in thehouse when I went out."

  "And how many pennies, pray, have you in the house to-day?" said arather gruff voice at the door.

  Mrs. Newton and Fanny started; but there, standing at the door, Fannysaw the fat gentleman who had given her the half-sovereign.

  "So you have been wishing for my gold, you little rogue," he said,looking as if he meant to frighten her. "Never mind," he added,smiling, "you are a good child, and did what was right; and I alwaysmeant to bring it back to you, but I have been kept rather busy thesefew days past. There it is for you, and try not to break the tenthcommandment again." Then turning to Mrs. Newton, he said, "We shouldnot expect rewards, ma'am, for doing our duty, but if children do notmeet with approbation when they do right, they may be discouraged, andperhaps think there is no use in being good: for they are silly littlecreatures, you know, and do not always recollect that God will rewardthe just one day if men do not."

  "Oh! sir!" said poor Mrs. Newton, but the tears streamed down, and shecould not say a word more. And there Fanny sat gazing on thehalf-sovereign, as if she was half stupefied.

  "Well, take up that bit of gold, and do what you like with it," saidthe fat gentleman; "and then run off to sell your flowers, for we mustnot be idle because we have got enough for to-day. But do what you likewith that money."

  Fanny rose up from her seat, and looking very much as if she was movingin her sleep, with her wondering eyes fixed on the shining piece thatlay in her hand, she walked slowly over to Mrs. Newton, and putting itinto hers, said,--

  "May I go to the grocer's now, grandmother, and get you the tea foryour breakfast?"

  "Yes, my love," said Mrs. Newton, kissing her, "and take care of this,and bring back the change carefully." Then turning to the gentleman,she said, "I am not young, sir, and I am very, very poorly; I find ithard to go without my tea, but it is a luxury I have been obligedlatterly to forego."

  "But could you not get tea on credit, from the grocer?" said thegentleman.

  "Oh! yes, I believe so; but there would be no use in getting credit;"said Mrs. Newton, "for I am not certain of being better able to paynext week than I am this week; and when I have not the money to pay forwhat I wish to get, it is better to do without it, than to add to one'sanxieties by running in debt. Do you not think so, sir?"

  "Ma'am," said the old gentleman, sitting down, and resting his largesilver-topped stick between his knees, "it is of very littleconsequence what I think; but if you wish to know this, I will tell youthat I think very well both of you and your little girl, who, as I haveheard, for I have made inquiries about you both, is a dependant on yourbounty. You have trained her up well, though I wouldn't praise thechild to her face; and so take as much tea as you like till you hearfrom me again, and your grocer need be in no trouble about his bill."

  So after the fat gentleman had made this rather bluff, buthonest-hearted speech, and poor Mrs. Newton had wept, and thanked himin language that sounded more polite, the good old gentleman told herhis whole history.

  He began the world very poor, and without relations able to assist him;he was at last taken into the employment of a young merchant in thecity; he had a turn for business, and having been able to render someimportant services to this young man, he was finally, to his ownsurprise, and that of every one else, taken into partnership.

  "During all this time," said he, "I was attached from my boyhood to thedaughter of the poor schoolmaster who first taught me to read; I wouldnot marry her while I was poor, for I thought that would be to make herwretched instead of happy; but when I was taken into partnership Ithought my way was clear; I went off to Bethnal Green, and told Mary,and our wedding-day was settled at once. Well, we were glad enough, tobe sure; but a very few days after, my partner called me into theprivate room, and said he wanted to consult me. He seemed in highspirits, and he told me he had just heard of a famous speculation, bywhich we could both make our fortunes at once. He explained what itwas, and I saw with shame and regret, that no really honest man couldjoin in it: I told him so; I told him plainly I would have nothing todo with it. You may think what followed; the deeds of partnership werenot yet signed, and in short, in two or three days more I found myselfpoor Jack Walton again--indeed, poorer than I was before I was made oneof the firm of Charters and Walton, for I had lost my employment.

  "Often and often I used to think that David said, he had never seen therighteous forsaken; yet I was suffering while the unrighteous wereprospering. It was a sinful, and a self-righteous thought, and I wasobliged to renounce it; when, after some time of trial, a gentlemansent for me--a man of wealth, and told me his son was going intobusiness on his own account; that he had heard of my character, and ofthe cause of my leaving Mr. Charters; that he thought I would be justsuch a steady person as he wished his son to be with. In short, I beganwith him on a handsome salary; was soon made his partner; married Mary,and had my snug house in the country. Mr. Charters succeeded in thatspeculation; entered into several others, some of which were of a morefraudulent nature, failed, and was ruined. He ran off to America, andno one knows what became of him. I have left business some years. Ipurchased a nice property in the country, built a Church upon it, andhave ever thanked God, who never forsakes those who wish to actrighteously.

  "It pleased God to take all my sweet children from me--every state hasits trials--the youngest was just like your little flower-girl."

  Mrs. Newton was much pleased with this story; she then told her own,and little Fanny's. The fat gentleman's eyes were full of tears whenshe ended; when he was going away he put another half-sovereign intoher hand, and saying, "The first was for the child," walked out of thehouse.

  A short time afterwards, a clergyman came to see Mrs. Newton--she wassurprised; he sat and talked with her some time, and seemed greatlypleased with her sentiments, and all she told him of herself and Fanny.He then told her that he was the clergyman whom Mr. Walton, on therecommendation of the bishop of the diocese, had appointed to thechurch he had built; that Mr. Walton had sent him to see her, and hadtold him, if he was satisfied with all he saw and heard, to invite Mrs.Newton and the little flower-girl to leave London, and go and live inone of the nice widows' houses, which good Mr. Walton had built, nearthe pretty village where he lived.

  Then there was great joy in poor Mrs. Newton's humble abode; Mrs.Newton was glad for Fanny's sake, and Fanny was glad for Mrs. Newton'ssake, so both were glad, and both said--

  "Mortals fly from doubt and sorrow, God provideth for the morrow."

  But the only difference was, that Mrs. Newton said it with watery eyesand
clasped hands, lying on her bed and looking up to heaven; andFanny--merry little thing!--said it frisking and jumping about theroom, clapping her hands together, and laughing her joy aloud.

  Well, there was an inside place taken in the B---- coach, for Mrs.Newton and Fanny; and not only that, but kind Mrs. Walton sent up herown maid to London, to see that everything was carefully done, as thepoor woman was ill, and help to pack up all her little goods; and, withher, she sent an entire new suit of clothes for the flower-girl.

  They set off, and when they got near to the village the coachmanstopped, and called out to know if it were the first, or the last ofthe red cottages he was to stop at; and Mrs. Walton's maid said, "Thelast,--the cottage in the garden." So they stopped at such a prettycottage, with a little garden before and behind it. Mr. Walton hadknown what it was to be poor, and so, when he grew rich, he had builtthese neat houses, for those who had been rich and become poor. Theywere intended chiefly for the widows of men of business, whosecharacter had been good, but who had died without being able to providefor their families. He had made an exception in Mrs. Newton's case, andgave her one of the best houses, because it had a pretty garden, whichhe thought others might not care for so much.

  They went inside, and there was such a neat kitchen, with tiles as redas tiles could be; a little dresser, with all sorts of useful things; anice clock ticking opposite the fire-place, and a grate as bright asblacklead could make it. And then there was such a pretty little roomat one side, with a rose tree against the window; and a little shelffor books against the wall; and a round table, and some chairs, and aneasy couch. And there were two nice bedrooms overhead; and, better thanall these, was a pretty garden. Oh! how happy was the littleflower-girl; and how thankful was poor Mrs. Newton! The first thing shedid was to go down on her knees and thank God.

  Then Fanny was to go to the school, for Mrs. Walton had her own school,as well as the national school; but Fanny did not know enough to go toit, so she was sent to the national school first, and afterwards shewent to the other, where about a dozen girls were instructed in allthings that would be useful to them through life--whether they were toearn their bread at service, or to live in their own homes asdaughters, wives, or mothers.

  But every morning, before she went out, she did everything for herdear, good grandmother. She made her breakfast; she arranged her room;and she gathered some fresh flowers in the garden, and put them on thetable in the little parlor. Oh! how happy was Fanny when she lookedback, and saw how nice everything looked, and then went out singing toher school--

  "Barns, nor hoarded store have we, Yet we carol joyously; Mortals flee from doubt and sorrow, God provideth for the morrow."

  But God will not provide for the morrow, where people will do nothingto provide for themselves; and so Fanny, the flower-girl, knew, forsurely God had blessed the labor of her childish hands.

  Thus passed time away; and Fanny, under the instruction that she had atchurch, at school, and at home, "grew in grace, and in the knowledgeand love of God, and of Jesus Christ our Lord."

  Good Mrs. Newton was much better in health, and used to walk aboutsometimes without any support but Fanny's arm, and so time went on tillFanny came to be about fifteen; and then Mrs. Newton, who was notalways free from "doubt and sorrow," began to think what was to becomeof her if she were to die.

  So one day, when kind Mr. Walton, whom Fanny used once to call the fatgentleman, came in to see her, Mrs. Newton told him that she wasbeginning to feel anxious that Fanny should be put in a way of earningher own bread, in case she should be taken from her.

  Mr. Walton listened to her, and then he said,--

  "You are very right and prudent, Mrs. Newton, but never mind that; Ihave not forgotten my little flower-girl, and her race after me thathot morning; if you were dead, I would take care of her; and if we bothwere dead, Mrs. Walton would take care of her; and if Mrs. Walton weredead, God would take care of her. I see you cannot yet learn the littlelines she is so fond of--

  "'Mortals flee from doubt and sorrow, God provideth for the morrow.'"

  Well, not very long after this conversation came a very warm day, andin all the heat of the sun came Mr. Walton, scarcely able to breathe,into Mrs. Newton's cottage; he was carrying his hat in one hand, and anewspaper in the other, and his face was very red and hot.

  "Well, Mrs. Newton," said he, "what is all this about?--I can't make itout; here is your name in the paper!"

  "My name, sir!" said Mrs. Newton, staring at the paper.

  "Aye, indeed is it," said Mr. Walton, putting on his spectacles, andopening the paper at the advertisement side,--"see here!"

  And he began to read,--

  "If Mrs. Newton, who lived about fifteen years ago near the turnpike onthe P---- road, will apply to Messrs. Long and Black, she will hear ofsomething to her advantage. Or should she be dead, any person who cangive information respecting her and her family, will be rewarded."

  Mrs. Newton sat without the power of speech--so much was she surprised;at last she said, "It is Fanny's father!--I know, I am sure it can beno one else!"

  Mr. Walton looked surprised, for he had never thought of this; he wasalmost sorry to think his little flower-girl should have anotherprotector. At length he said it must be as Mrs. Newton thought, and hewould go up to London himself next day, and see Mr. Long and Mr. Black.So he went; and two days afterwards, when Fanny had returned from Mrs.Walton's school, and was sitting with Mrs. Newton in the little shadyarbor they had made in the garden, and talking over early days, whenthey used to sit in another arbor, and Fanny used to learn her firstlessons from flowers, then came Mr. Walton walking up the path towardsthem, and with him was a fine-looking man, of about forty-five years ofage.

  Mrs. Newton trembled, for when she looked in his face she rememberedthe features; and she said to herself, "Now, if he takes my Fanny fromme?--and if he should be a bad man?" But when this man came nearer, hestepped hastily beyond Mr. Walton, and catching Mrs. Newton's hands, hewas just going to drop on his knees before her, when he saw Fannystaring at him; and a father's feelings overcame every other, and witha cry of joy he extended his arms, and exclaiming "my child!'--mychild!" caught her to his breast.

  Then there followed so much talk, while no one knew scarcely what wassaying; and it was Mr. Walton, chiefly, that told how Fanny's fatherhad had so much to struggle against, and so much hardship to gothrough, but how he had succeeded at last, and got on very well; now hehad tried then to find out Mrs. Newton and his dear little Fanny, butcould not, because Mrs. Newton had changed her abode; how, at last, hehad met with a good opportunity to sell his land, and had now come overwith the money he had earned, to find his child, and repay her kindbenefactor.

  Oh, what a happy evening was that in the widow's cottage! the widow'sheart sang for joy. The widow, and she that had always thought herselfan orphan, were ready to sing together--

  "Mortals flee from doubt and sorrow, God provideth for the morrow."

  Mrs. Newton found that Mr. Marsden, that was the name of Fanny'sfather, was all that she could desire Fanny's father to be:--aChristian in deed and in truth; one thankful to God and to her, for thepreservation and care of his child; and who would not willinglyseparate Fanny from her, or let her leave Fanny.

  As he found Mrs. Newton did not wish to leave kind Mr. Walton'sneighborhood, and that his daughter was attached to it also, Mr.Marsden took some land and a nice farm-house, not far from the ManorHouse, where Mr. Walton lived. He had heard all about thehalf-sovereign, and loved his little flower-girl before he saw her.

  So Mrs. Newton had to leave her widow's house; and she shed tears ofjoy, and regret, and thankfulness, as she did so; she had been happythere, and had had God's blessing upon her and her dear girl.

  But Fanny was glad to receive her dear, dear grandmother into her ownfather's house; her own house too; and she threw her arms round the oldlady's neck, when they got there, and kissed her over and over again,and said, "Ah! grandmother, do you recolle
ct when I was a little girltying up my flowers while you lay sick in bed, I used to say so often--

  "'Mortals flee from doubt and sorrow, God provideth for the morrow.'"

  They had a large garden at the farm-house, and Fanny and Mrs. Newtonimproved it; and Mrs. Newton would walk out, leaning on Fanny's arm,and look at the lilies and roses, and jessamine, and mignonette, andtalk of past times, and of their first garden, and their first flowers,and of their first knowledge of the God who made them; who watches theopening bud, and the infant head; who sends his rain upon the plant,and the dew of his blessing upon the child who is taught to know andlove Him. And Fanny's father, when he joined them, talked over histrials and dangers from the day that his poor wife lay dead, and hishelpless baby lay in his arms, and then he blessed the God who had ledhim all his life long, and crowned him with loving-kindness.

  Three years passed, and Fanny, the little flower-girl, was a fine youngwoman. A farmer's son in the neighborhood wished to get her for hiswife; but her father was very sorry to think of her leaving him so soonfor another home.

  He spoke to Fanny about it, and said,--"My dear girl, I have no rightto expect you should wish to stay with me, for I never was able towatch over your childhood or to act a father's part by you."

  And Fanny answered, with a blush and smile, "And I, father, was neverable to act a daughter's part by you until now, and therefore I thinkyou have every right to expect I should do so for some time longer. Ihave no objections to be Charles Brierley's wife, and I have told himso; but we are both young, and at all events I will not leave you."

  "Now," said Mrs. Newton, who was sitting by, "instead of that young mantaking more land, which is very dear about here, would it not be a goodplan if he were to come and live with you, Mr. Marsden, and help youwith the farm."

  And Mr. Marsden said, "That is the very thing; I will go and speak tohim about it; and Fanny and her husband can have the house, and farm,and all, as much as they please now, and entirely at my death."

  So it was all settled; and Fanny was married at the village church, andMr. and Mrs. Walton were at the wedding. Good Mrs. Newton lived on atthe farm-house, and when Fanny's first child was born, it was put intoher arms. Then she thought of the time when Fanny herself was laid inthe same arms; and she blessed God in her heart, who had enabled her tobe of use to one human creature, and to one immortal soul and mind,while she passed through this life to the life everlasting.

  Joy and sorrow are always mingled on this earth; so it came to passthat before Fanny's first child could walk alone, good, kind Mrs.Newton died, and was buried. As a shock of corn cometh in, in itsseason, so she sank to rest, and was gathered into the garner of herLord. But--

  "The memory of the just Is blessed, though they sleep in dust;"

  and Fanny's children, and children's children, will learn to love thatmemory.

  Many a day, sitting at work in her garden, with her little ones aroundher, Fanny let them gather some flowers, and talk to her about them;and then they would beg, as a reward for good conduct, that she wouldtell them about her dear grandmother and her own childish days; andmuch as children love to hear stories, never did any more delight in astory, than did these children, in the story of Fanny, the Flower-Girl.