THE FAMILY CIRCLE

New Zealand Tablet, 21 January 1915, Page 61

THE FAMILY CIRCLE

SEED WORDS.

d was nothinga mere idle word, From careless lips that fell, Forgot, perhaps, as soon as said, And purposeless as well.

But yet, as on the passing wind Is born© the little seed, Which 'blooms unheeded, as a flower, Or as a noisome weed—

So often will a single word, Unknown, its end fulfil, And bear, in seed, the flower and fruit Of actions good or ill.

THE ROMANCE OF THE VIOLET.

There is one flower which all humanity —the violet. And yet this same dainty violet is the emblem of the Bonapartes. It was a favorite flower of the great Corsican who flooded the whole of Europe in blood, and crushed rebellious France, that he might rise to highest power, and make his adopted country the mightiest of nations.

The violet brought to Napoleon the first news of his coming greatness. It was the only flower that ever bloomed at St. Helena over his lonely grave, when the sun of Austerlitz had sunk for ever in the clouds of battle smoke which hung heavy over the fields of Waterloo.

This is the story of how the purple flower conveyed to the great Napoleon the first tidings of that promotion which opened to him a pathway to imperial honors.

It was a woman, beautiful, well born, and patriotic, who suggested to Barras, the people’s champion, the leader of the Convention, that the young officer, Napoleon Bonaparte, was the one man who might yet save France. By Barras the Corsican was summoned and taken into, the great hall of the Convention. * So France has come to this,’ whispered one greybeard to another, ‘ that her life and her fate lie in the hands of a youth of 25 (and, indeed, he looked younger), only sft 2in in stature, with hair combed low on his brow like a woman—Alas!’

‘I am perfectly aware of the difficulties in my path; but I am accustomed to succeed,’ said the young Corsican, speaking in .a loud, clear voice; ‘but one thing I insist upon — it is I am not to be embarrassed by orders; I must have supreme command.’ And bowing low to the people’s representatives, the little pale man, but sft 2in in height, with mild, brown eyes, left the hall, and the Convention, with closed doors, discussed his proposition. Barras followed him for a last word, and while

they spoke, a little girl came up to them with a basket filled with fragrant violets. The little man’s eyes softened.

‘ They always remind me, somehow, of home,’ ho murmured apologetically, as ho gave the seller a sou and took a tiny bunch. A thought struck Barras. He bought a bouquet for the woman he loved. Then, turning to Napoleon, he said:

‘ Go to the house of Madame , and remain there until ten. If I succeed for you, as she says I shall, she will send you a violet.’ It was six o’clock when the young officer was admitted to the house, and as he paced the great empty saloon he heard the clock strike seven, then half-past, then eight. At last the time piece in the hall struck nine, and as its chimes ceased a servant entered the room with a perfumed envelope. Napoleon opened it, and lo ! it contained only a violet. A flower which changed the map of Europe ! And this is why those of every land and clime, whose hearts are thrilled by the romance of war and the story of the youth who, unaided, reached the zenith of earthly power, love the flower ho loved best—purple violet of Corsica.

SLEEP PREFERRED.

Mrs. Randall had just finished instructing her new girl, who came to her from an intelligence office, Tier general appearance pleased the mistress greatly, and she felt sure that at last she had succeeded in finding a prize.

‘ And, Lizzie, do you have to be called in the morning?’ she asked as an afterthought. ‘ I don’t have to be, mum,’ replied the new assistant hopefully, ‘ unless you just happens to need me.’

CONDENSED MEASURE.

‘Do you call this a pint?’ asked a sharp servant, of the milkman, whom she suspected of giving short measure. ‘ Yes,’ replied the man. ‘Well it won’t do,’ said the girl. ‘ When we want condensed milk, we’ll buy it at the grocer’s!’

NOT FOR THE PROFESSIONAL.

One of the latest cricket stories is that of a village club who, having let their ground to a local fete committee for a certain day, wrote to the opponents who were to have visited them on that date, asking if the match could be played away instead of at home. A reply contained consent to the proposed change,

with a concluding sentence; ‘ You will probably be able to give us a quid pro quo.' Secretary No. 1 at once writes back; ‘ Thanks for the arrangement. As you are obliging us, I enclose the sovereign you ant for your pro., but think you chaps ought to pay him yourselves in future matches!’