A few years since the Belfast (Me.) _Journal_ gave this touching
incident: "One day last week an elderly man, known to our people as an
honest and hard-working citizen, was walking slowly up Main street.
There was sorrow in his countenance, and the shadow of grief upon his
face. Opposite the Savings Bank his eye caught sight of the flowering
Oleander, that with other plants fill the bay-window of the
banking-room. He looked at it long and wistfully. At length he pushed
open the door, and approaching Mr. Q., said:
"'Will you give me a few of those flowers?'
"The cashier, leaving the counting of money and the computing of
interest, came around the counter, bent down the plant, cut off a
cluster of blossoms, and placed it in the man's toil-hardened hand. His
curiosity led him to ask:
"'What do you want them for?'
"'My little granddaughter died of scarlet fever last night,' the man
replied with faltering voice, 'and I want to put them in her coffin.'
"Blessed be flowers, that can thus solace the bereavement of death and
lend their brightness as a bloom, to the last resting-place of the loved
one."