Produced by David Clarke and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
THE BASKET OF FLOWERS
[Illustration: "An officer came to Mary's cell."
_See page 36._]
THE BASKET OF FLOWERS
By
CHRISTOPH VON SCHMID
With Illustrations By
WATSON CHARLTON and W. E. EVANS.
Published by
JOHN F. SHAW & CO., LTD.,
3, Pilgrim Street, London.
PUBLISHER'S NOTE
In putting forward a new edition of _The Basket of Flowers_ no apology
is needed. This charming story is now something of a children's
classic, and the only merits that the publisher can claim for the
present edition are variety in the manner of the illustration and the
outward design of the book. To these may be added, perhaps, the further
claim that in the present English version, which is copyright, some of
the more glaring faults that mar the original translation are avoided.
For the rest, it is hoped that the charm of the original has been
maintained.
CONTENTS
CHAP. Page
I. THE GARDENER'S DAUGHTER 1
II. THE BASKET OF FLOWERS 12
III. THE MISSING RING 21
IV. MARY IN PRISON 30
V. THE TRIAL 36
VI. A PAINFUL MEETING 42
VII. SENTENCED 49
VIII. FINDING NEW FRIENDS 58
IX. A NEW HOME 65
X. A FATHER'S LAST WORDS 72
XI. MARY'S GREAT LOSS 82
XII. CHANGES AT PINE FARM 90
XIII. AGAIN A WANDERER 97
XIV. A STRANGE MEETING 104
XV. THE YOUNG COUNTESS'S STORY 108
XVI. HOW THE RING WAS FOUND 115
XVII. REPARATION 123
XVIII. PINE FARM REVISITED 127
XIX. RETRIBUTION 134
XX. FORGIVING AN ENEMY 140
XXI. CONCLUSION 145
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
AN OFFICER CAME TO MARY'S CELL _Frontispiece_
_Facing p._
MARY SHYLY OFFERED HER PRESENT 16
"OH, MY FATHER, BE SURE THAT I HAVE NOT THE RING" 32
SHE RAISED HERSELF HASTILY, FORGETTING HER CHAINS 48
SHE THREW THE BASKET AT MARY'S FEET 64
LOOKING UP SHE SAW THE BEAUTIFUL FACE AND
FIGURE OF A WOMAN 96
MARY WAS AFFECTED TO THE HEART WHEN SHE
HEARD JULIETTE'S STORY 144
THE BASKET OF FLOWERS
CHAPTER I.
THE GARDENER'S DAUGHTER.
The simple story which is told in this little book treats of things
which happened a long time ago in a foreign country, where the manners
and customs are widely different from our own. It is necessary to
explain this at the beginning, because the reader will meet with
incidents in the narrative which would otherwise seem strange and
inconsistent. Two lessons which the story teaches, however, may be
learned in all countries. The first is that the human heart has from
the beginning been full of sin, producing, for the most part, evil
fruit, which results in misery; and in the second place, that there is
only one remedy for this state of the soul, the remedy of God's Holy
Spirit, which, wherever it enters, produces the fruits of righteousness
and perfect peace. It is because we believe that the study of these
opposing principles as exhibited in the experience of others may be
profitable to young readers, that the story of the Basket of Flowers is
now presented.
James Rode, who, with his daughter Mary, forms the subject of our tale,
lived over one hundred years ago in the village of Eichbourg, in
Germany. When he was very young his parents sent him to be trained as a
gardener in the beautiful grounds of the Count of Eichbourg. James was
a bright, intelligent lad, fond of work, and of an amiable disposition,
and he soon made himself a favourite with the people among whom he
associated. His happy genial disposition and his readiness to oblige
endeared him to all with whom he came in contact. The secret of James'
character lay deeper than mere disposition. He had early given his
heart to the Lord Jesus Christ, and the amiable qualities which he now
displayed were the fruits of the Holy Spirit which had been implanted
in him. But it was not only among his companions that James was well
liked. He was a favourite with the Count's children, and so modest and
unassuming was his behaviour that he was sometimes allowed to be in the
Castle with them, and to share in the lessons which they got.
Being of an intelligent turn of mind, James profited by all the
advantages which his position gave him, and, after his engagement was
completed, the Count offered him a well-paid position in his large
household at Vienna. It was a temptation for James, who had the
ambition common to young men, and, but for one thing, he would have
gladly accepted his master's offer. The Count was a kind man, but he
was not a Christian, and God was not honoured in his household. James
knew that if he took the place in his house, he might be asked to do
things which as a Christian he believed to be wrong; and so he decided
to refuse the offer, tempting as it was, and to remain in the humble
position in which he had been born. The Count was not offended with
James for his decision; and to show his respect for him he gave him an
easy lease of a little property, consisting of a cottage, a
well-stocked orchard, and a kitchen garden.
By and by James married a young woman, whose principles, like his own,
were deeply religious, and together they lived in comfort and harmony
many years. Then children came to brighten their life, but one after
another was taken away, and at last only Mary remained, whose history
this story is mainly occupied in telling.
When James Rode was a little over sixty years of age his wife died.
Mary was now five years old, and a fine, beautiful girl. The neighbours
were foolish enough sometimes to call her pretty to her face, and,
although this was a dangerous thing to do, it had not the effect of
spoiling her. Besides being beautiful in face, Mary had a beautiful
character, and was modest and obedient, and possessed unbounded love
for her father. When she came to be fifteen years of age, she became
her father's housekeeper, and so thorough and constant were her habits
of cleanliness that the kitchen utensils shone brightly enough to be
easily mistaken for new.
We have already informed our readers that her father, James Rode,
earned his living as a gardener. Twice a week he carried the vegetables
and fruit which he cultivated to the nearest market-town. But, while
the growing of fruits and vegetables had to be looked after in order to
secure his subsistence, his greatest delight was in the cultivation of
flowers; and in this pleasant task Mary assisted him every hour which
she could spare from the work of the house. She counted the hours
devoted to this task among the happiest of her life, for her father had
the art of turning labour into pleasure by his interesting and
entertaining conversation. To Mary, who had grown up, as it were, in
the midst of plants, there had come a natural taste for flowers, and
the garden was to her a little world. She was never at a loss for a
delightful occupation, for every hour which she had at her disposal was
spent in cultivating the young plants with the utmost care.
Specially did she find pleasure in studying the buds of every strange
species. Her young imagination delighted in picturing what kind of
flowers they would become; and so impatient was she to see her
expectations fulfilled, that she was hardly able to wait until the
flowers had unfolded. When the flower for which she had waited long
appeared in all its beauty, the sight filled her with a strange joy. In
truth, there was not a day which did not bring some new pleasure to
Mary's heart. Sometimes it was by a stranger passing the garden and
stopping to admire the beauty of the flowers. The children of the
neighbourhood, as they passed on their way to school, never failed to
peep through the hedge, and were generally rewarded by Mary with some
little present of flowers as a token of her goodwill.
James, as a wise father, knew how to direct the taste of his daughter
towards the most noble ends. Often he used to say, "Let others spend
their money for jewels and silks and other adornments; I will spend
mine for flower-seeds. Silks and satins and jewels cannot procure for
our children so pure a pleasure as these beautiful exhibitions of the
wisdom and benevolence of God."
In the beauty of the various flowers which adorned their garden, in the
charming variety of their shapes, in the perfection of their
proportions, in the glory of their colours, and in the sweetness of
their perfumes, he taught Mary to see and admire the power and wisdom
and goodness of God. It was his custom to begin each day with God by
spending the first hours of the morning in prayer; and, in order to
accomplish this without neglecting his work, it was his habit to rise
early. In the beautiful days of spring and summer, James would lead
Mary to an arbour in the garden, and, while the birds sang their joyous
songs, and the dew sparkled on the grass and flowers, he delighted to
talk with his daughter of God, whose bounty sent the sun and the dew,
and brought forth the beauty and life of the world. It was here that he
first instilled into Mary's mind the idea of God as the tender Father
of mankind, whose love was manifested not only in all the beautiful
works of nature, which were round them, but above all in the gift of
Jesus Christ. It was in this arbour that James had the happiness of
seeing Mary's heart gradually unfold to the reception of the truth.
Once in the early part of March, when with shining eyes and bounding
feet she brought him the first violet, he said, "Let this beautiful
flower serve to you as an emblem of humility and sweetness, by its
modest colour, its disposition to flourish in hidden places, and the
delicate perfume which it sends forth. May you, my dear child, be like
the violet, modest in your demeanour, careless of gaudy clothing, and
seeking to do good without making any fuss about it."
At the time when the lilies and roses were in full bloom and when the
garden was resplendent with beautiful flowers, the old man, seeing his
daughter filled with joy, pointed to a lily unfolding in the rays of
the morning sun. "See, in this lily, my daughter, the symbol of
innocence. Its leaves are finer than richest satin, and its whiteness
equals that of the driven snow. Happy is the daughter whose heart also
is pure, for remember the words, 'The pure in heart shall see God.' The
more pure the colour, the more difficult to preserve its purity. The
slightest spot can spoil the flower of the lily, and so one word can
rob the mind of its purity. Let the rose," said he, pointing to that
flower, "be the image of modesty. The blush of a modest girl is more
beautiful than that of the rose."
Mary's father then made a bouquet of lilies and roses, and, giving it
to Mary, he said, "These are brothers and sisters, whose beauty no
other flowers can equal. Innocence and modesty are twin sisters, which
cannot be separated. Yes, my dear child, God in His goodness has given
to modesty, innocence for a sister and companion, in order that she
might be warned of the approach of danger. Be always modest, and you
will be always virtuous. Oh, if the will of God be so, I pray that you
may be enabled to preserve in your heart the purity of the lily!"
One ornament of their garden, which James and his daughter most dearly
prized, was a dwarf apple-tree little higher than a rose-bush, which
grew in a small round bed in the middle of the garden. The old man had
planted it on his daughter's birthday, and every year it gave them a
harvest of beautiful golden yellow apples spotted with red. One season
it seemed specially promising, and its blossom was more luxurious than
ever. Every morning Mary examined it with new delight. One morning she
came as usual, but what a change had taken place! The frost had
withered all the flowers, which were now brown and yellow and fast
being shrivelled up by the sun. Poor Mary's sensitive feelings were so
affected that she burst into tears, but her father turned the incident
to good account.
"Look, my child," said he, "as the frost spoils the apple-blossoms, so
wicked pleasures spoil the beauty of youth. Oh, my dear Mary, tremble
at the thought of going aside from the path of right. If the time
should ever come when the delightful hopes which I have had for your
future should vanish, I should shed tears more bitter than you do now.
I should not enjoy another hour of pleasure, and my grey hairs would be
brought with sorrow to the grave." At the mere thought of such a
calamity the old man could not keep back his tears, and his words of
tender solicitude made a deep impression on Mary's heart.
Brought up under the care of a father so wise and loving, Mary grew up
like the flowers of her garden, fresh as the rose, pure like the lily,
modest as the violet, and full of promise for the future, as a
beautiful shrub in the time of flourishing.
When James viewed his beautiful garden, with its luxuriant flowers and
its prolific fruits, which so well repaid his constant care, it was
with a feeling of satisfaction and gratitude. But this feeling was
nothing compared with the joy he felt when he saw his daughter, as the
reward of his pious efforts to train her in the love of God, bringing
forth the most precious fruits of the Holy Spirit.