Victor, Frances Fuller, 1826-1902 / 2008-11-15 00:00:00

My friend's husband insisted
on cutting it down, as unsightly; but this she objected to, until all
the leaves were dry and faded, and the tree apparently dead. Still she
asked for it to be spared for another season; and, taking a stick, she
beat the tree all over until not a leaf was left on a single bough; and
there it stood, a mere frame of dry branches, until everybody wished it
out of the way. But behold! at last it was covered with little green
dots of leaves, that rapidly grew to the usual size, and now that tree
is the thriftiest in my friend's garden, and a living evidence of the
uses of adversity. But for the beating it got, it would now be a dead
tree! I had my child to live and work for; and really, but for this last
trouble, I should have thought myself doing well. I had found out how I
could make and lay up money, and was gaining that sense of independence
such knowledge gives. Besides, I was young, and in good physical health
most of the time before this last and worst stroke of fortune. _That_
broke down my powers of resistance in some directions, I had so much to
resist in others."
"Do you see what o'clock it is?" I asked.
"Yes; but if you do not mind the sitting up, let's make a night of it. I
feel as if I could not sleep--as if something were going to happen."
Very cheerfully I consented to the proposed vigil.
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