The Children's Repository—Thistles [pp. 385-386]

THE CHILDREN'S REPOSITOR Y.
tlc t iftctrtit.
THISTLES.
" MAMM\A, the garden looks lovely to day! Won't you please come out and
pick me some flowers to take to our
teacher?" exclaimed Emma M'Alpine in a
breathless way, and with her cheeks flushed
with excitement as she ran into the library
where her mother was readcing.
"Why, Emma, my child! what have you
been doing that you are so out of breath?"
"0, I have just been having a splendid time
playing tag with brother WVill; but now, mamma,
as it is most school time, do please get me
some pretty flowers to take to Miss Wilson, for
she is very fond of them, and always glad to
have a fresh bunch on the desk by her."
I will get the flowers for you withl pleasure,
Emma, but morning or evening is a much better
time to pick them than during the heat of the
clay."
"Well, but, mother, if they were picked in
the evening some of them might wilt before
morning; and in the morning, you know, I
have to hurry off to school just as quick as
ever I can after breakfast."
"That is true, dclear, but if you were not such
a lazy girl you would be up with the larks these
bright, beautiful mornings, and have more time
to look over your lessons and play out of doors
before the sun is so heating. Now do sit still
and rest a few moments, while I get my broad
flat and garden scissors, and also speak to the
nurse about somethling, then I'11 be ready to
go with you."
Emma M'Alpine was such a restless, impatient, impulsive little body, that it was very
difficult for her to remain quiet five minutes at
a time when out of school, so in one instanton hearing her mothler's step approach-she
was off of her seat with a bound and running
to meet her at the door.
" Emma dear, do put on your hat and be
more moderate in your movements," mildly said
Mrs. I\I'Alpine, "for there is plenty of time to
pick and arrange all the flowers you want before
school."
For a while Emma moved on by her mother's
side a little more sedately; then, as if quicksilver was in her feet, she danced off, darting
about from one spot to another, calling to her
VOL. XXX T.-2-*
mother to pick this or that flower wherever she
spied the hlandsomest.
"O0, mamma, only do look and see how many
elegant ones there are here! Can't I pick
some myself?"
"Yes, dear, but do be careful in breaking the
stems, and not jerk so hard as to pull up root
and all, as some children do."
Emma, excited and scarce paying attention
to her mothler's last words, eagerly seized the
stalk of a flower, and was about to break it off
rather roughly, when she gave a loud scream,
and hastily threw down all the flowers she held
in her hand.
Mrs. M'Alpine, fearing she was stung by a
wasp, or badly hurt in some way, ran to her
exclaiming, "What is the matter, my child?
Where are you hurt?"
More with passion than pain, she replied,
" Why, that nasty, sharp, prickly thistle behind
the flowers has hurt my hand horribly! I
do n't see what use there is for such tormenting things. They are just good for nothing."
"Hush, my child, do n't speak in such an
angry, passionate way against any thing. I am
sorry you have hurt your hand, but that poor,
inanimate thistle is not to blame. If you had
not been so impulsive, and looked to what you
were doing, you might have avoided getting
pricked by it."
"Well, any way, mother, of what use in the
world are thistles?"
"They are, I will admit, a rather troublesome weed in many respects, and especially so
when they find their way into the garden; but
't is said that every thing in the world is made
for some purpose; and in speaking so impatiently against the thistle I think you forget
who is the Creator of all things."
Emma hung her head as though ashamed of
her pettish words. Her mother, glad to see
that she felt the reproof, pleasantly added, " I
wonder if you can tell me what nation thinks
so much of the thistle that they engrave it on
their national arms."
"The Scotch, mamma. But why did they
not choose something prettier than that coarse,
prickly weed?"
"O, they had a good reason for honoring the
thistle. I will tell you all about it while we are
resting in the cool arbor and making up the
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