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Kildermekée, arrange your head-dress and put your comb in your pocket, and come home with me.”
No sooner said than done; the lady was very frank, and (having a great insight into character) accepted the offer, and was carefully conveyed to the fisherman's hut.
Gracious goodness! you're an old fool,” (a pet name of old Margery's for her husband ;) “poor we are, and poor we are likely to be, when you, instead of bringing home fish or bread for your starving wife and children, bring an outlandish lady.”
Stop, Margery, prythee be not so hasty; this lady's name is Kildermekée, a lady of foreign extraction and great accomplishments; let her see that, though poor, we have manners; and though destitute of food, we can bid her welcome to the fire-side.”
Thus pacified by her husband's kindness, Margery dusted an old oaken stool, and invited Kildermekée to the fire ; and being a person who prided herself on the knowledge of the conveniences of life, though she did not possess them, she respectfully enquired whether it would be agreeable to her to have her wet clothes removed and dried.
Dan, the old fisherman, was quite delighted to see his wife behave so very kindly to Kildermekée, for it showed how very nicely she had been brought up, and how kindhearted she was to take such care of the foreign lady, who was suffering so much from hunger. Kildermekée, however, showed the greatest antipathy to have her feet interfered with, and politely waived them off: a cold shuddering sensation came over Margery, as Kildermekée sat without once moving her position for several hours.
The children had retired to their respective corners, and sleep was fast stealing into the fisherman's eyes, when Kil. dermekée beckoned to Dan to convey her to a corner, for repose; this he did carefully, and the whole family were hushed in sleep. Happy dreams visited them that night, abundance poured in from every side. Fishes danced for joy before their eyes, and seemed most anxious to be caught. In the meantime night wore away, and Kildermekée begged, in her way, to be conveyed back to the sea, on old Dan's back.
“Good morning, my lady,” said Margery, making her best curtsey, "please to remember us in your parts, for its very hard for a poor family to be starving."
Kildermekée bowed in an admiring way to poor Margery, as thanks for her kindness,-sprang on Dan's back, and slipping into the sea, vanished from his sight.
So he began to put in his line and hook, and to wish for success, -" one, two, three little fishes; there is one for little Madge, one for Roger, one for Pipin ; none for Margery, yet; none for myself. How I wish Kildermekée would bring me a large basket of fish for the market.”
Now a sudden commotion appears in the sea, the waves fought most splendidly, and hurried over one another's heads in a wonderful manner, and murmured a plaintive ditty :
Pity the sorrows of a poor old man,
Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your shore,
His wife and children too will be no more.
“ How very beautiful,” said the fisherman, “ and very affecting, also; for, alas; it is my case.”
The waves roared, and the winds blew, and the following words were sung :
“ You who kindness show another,
Three more splashes, and a somerset, and Kildermekée stood before him, bearing an immense basket of the choicest fishes, and affectionately taking his hand, she spoke to the following effect :
Take the fish to market, and sell them, then give the good Margery this parcel, which contains shoes and stockings for herself and children, because she wished to make me comfortable in that respect; and remember, when your hearth grows dim for want of firing, Kildermekée, when called upon, will pile up wood upon it, in gratitude to you for the warm seat you gave her that eventful night. Farewell, my friends !-a good deed never loses its recompense.”
BY G. H. ADAMS.
must be a well-known flower; it springs up
out of the earth. From February to April it continues in blossom, and were it not for that, and the drooping Snow-drop, and the bright blue or pink Hepatica, about which we intend to say a few words, next month, what a long and dreary time we should have to wait, from the period of which the American poet gives this description:
“ The melancholy days are come, and saddest of the year,
Alas! they all are in their graves, the gentle race of flowers Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours. The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold November rain, Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.”
What a long and dreary time, we say, would it appear between the death and burial of the Autumn Flowers, and the appearance of those of Summer, were it not for the upspringing of these bright and beautiful blossoms of Spring, of which the Crocus is one of the most conspicuous, on account of its gay colours and peculiar shape. Like the snow
drop, it springs from a bulbous root; which is, or should be, to preserve it from decay, taken up at the latter end of May, wiped free from dust, and kept in a dry place until the beginning of September, when it should be replanted; by this mode of management, the root will last much longer, and produce finer blossoms, than if left in the earth all the winter, subject to casualties from moisture, frost, insects, &c.