A BRIGHT THOUGHT SPEEDILY EXECUTED.
It is an excellent rule, no doubt, children, not to be in a hurry; and the proverbs, “Take time by the forelock” and “The more haste the worse speed,” are wise proverbs, worth keeping. But occasions occur, once in a while, when working hastily is a great deal better than not working at all, and may be working to some purpose too. I remember a case of this kind. In a certain town, on the forenoon of July 3, 183-, when “Floral Processions” were novel affairs, a company of ladies and gentlemen were assembled in a barn-chamber, finishing off and packing up a lot of moss baskets, and arranging bunches of flowers to be sent to Boston, to the Warren-street Chapel, by the mail coach at 3 o’clock, P.M. It was about 10 o’clock when one of the party,—suppose we call him, for convenience just now, Mr. Perseverance,—who had been looking out of the window, down upon a very little garden, suddenly turned round, and exclaimed that something might be made prettier than any thing they had yet done. He told what it was. “It is impossible to do it now. We must wait till next year,” said his friends. “Nothing like trying: a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. No time like the present,” replied Mr. Perseverance, a pertinacious gentleman, who wanted to “strike when the iron was hot,” and carry out his notion without delay. Accordingly, he caught up two sticks, and nailed them together, so as to get the right shape. Then he went down town,—the town being small, he had not far to go,—begged at the bookstore a few “show-bills,” containing the letters he needed for patterns; bought a sheet of gold paper and half an ounce of gum-arabic, twice as much of both as he really wanted; people in a hurry are not apt to calculate very nicely, or be very economical, you know. He carried his articles back to the barn, and asked a lady to try to cut out a motto he had selected, and gum it on a ribbon. “But where shall I get the ribbon?” said the lady. “Oh! find it somewhere,” said Mr. Perseverance; “and be sure and have all ready when I return.” There was one spot in the woods he remembered visiting months before with a boy in his neighborhood, on which grew another material, indispensable to his project. He found the lad: they jumped into a chaise; rode two or three miles to a grove; and, on searching a few moments, found what they were after,—a plant green in mid-winter as well as in summer, and prized by everybody who loves Christmas; gathered a bushel of it, more or less; and got home again before dinner. Meanwhile, the lady, with others to help her, had been busy; and all were wide awake now, entering into the spirit of the matter, thinking that the bright idea of Mr. Perseverance might possibly be accomplished in season. A splendid bunch of pure white lilies, not quite open, was fastened to the longest stick, the stems covered with wet paper or moss; then both