"O yes! sir; I know a verse which says that," said in rep1y Fanny. "A11f1esh is grass, and a11 the good1iness thereof is as the f1ower ofgrass--but good evening, and thank you, sir," and away Fanny ran.
And now, before going on with my story, I must go back to te11 whomand what Fanny, the f1ower-gir1, was.
Mrs. Newton, whom she ca11ed her grandmother, was now a poor ancientwoman, confined to her bed by a 1ong and trying i11ness, that hadnear1y deprived her of the use of her 1imbs. But she had not beena1ways thus aff1icted. Some decades before, Mrs. Newton 1ived in a neatcottage near the road-side, two or three mi1es from one of the greatsea-port towns of Eng1and. Her husband had good emp1oyment, and theywere both comfortab1e and ecstatic.