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THE 
 
 BUNCH OF VIOLETS 
 
 By 
 
 W. G. BOWDOIN 
 
 Author of Jack and Jill Modernized 
 
 Privately Printed 
 
 BROOKLYN, NEW YORK 
 
 CHRISTMAS 
 M CM VII 
 

 Gift 
 
A Memory Note 
 
 Half Fad:, Half Fancy 
 
 by 
 
 ifor 
 
 
THE BUNCH OF VIOLETS 
 
 The violet s charms I firize indeed, 
 So modest tis and fair, 
 §t±nd smells so sweet. — Goethe 
 
 ERE IS SOME* 
 thing very appeal* 
 ing to the feminine 
 mind about flow* 
 ers. A violet, an 
 orchid, a pink, a 
 rose, a lily of the 
 valley, a narcissus, or other flower, 
 single or in mass, when neatly pinned 
 on, nestles at the corsage or on the 
 bosom, as a harmonious adornment 
 of the feminine wearer, to whom the 
 flower's exquisite shape or delicate 
 perfume, is offered as a deserved trib* 
 ute. Flowers and the woman go 
 hand in hand. 
 
 5 
 
® Oliver Stone knew this, as lie 
 walked along the street one Sunday 
 afternoon. He recognized, vaguely 
 perhaps, but nevertheless recognized 
 the affinity that always has & always 
 will exist between flowers and fern* 
 ininity. It was because of this recog* 
 nition that he stepped into a florist's 
 shop, by which, with less discrimin* 
 ation, he might easily have passed, 
 and bought a bunch of violets. Mr. 
 Stone, it may be said, in passing, had 
 an engagement to dine at his club 
 with his soul's idol, and he had an 
 idea that violets would look well upon 
 her as he sat at table and looked across 
 at her. So he bought the bunch o£ 
 violets and paid their winter price. 
 The florist wrapped them up, but the 
 bundle looked suspiciously like the 
 flowers that they were. Mr. Stone 
 6 
 
did not seem to care anything about 
 this circumstance, however, and af* 
 ter leaving the florins, continued his 
 walk with a jaunty air. He even 
 hummed a few lyrical bars from one 
 of the light operas. 
 
 There was nothing very remark* 
 able about the appearance of Mr. 
 Stone to differentiate him from any 
 other man. He was neatly but unob* 
 trusively dressed. His shoes were 
 well polished and a careful observer 
 might have noticed that his four*in* 
 hand tie was a new one. The January 
 air was brisk, and, as he breathed it, 
 he realized something of the joy of 
 living even when a man lacks riches. 
 He saw things tinted with couleur de 
 rose and naturally felt jovial. The 
 shop windows were for the most part 
 uncurtained as he passed and their 
 
 7 
 
diversified contents were cunningly 
 arranged so as to be as alluring as pos* 
 sible. Every no wand then Mr. Stone 
 would pause and look at one of the 
 show windows. He was particularly 
 interested in the art shops &he gazed 
 long and earnestly at certain pictures 
 that were hung on the line in their 
 windows. 
 
 He was conscious of the hum that 
 precedes the passing of ametropolitan 
 trolley car, but he paid no attention 
 to the frequent dashing by of these 
 cars. He was thinking about a certain 
 personality that had great charm for 
 him, and the people that he met and 
 passed, the shop windows, the trac* 
 tion cars and everything else that 
 tended todistract, were,after all, only 
 backgrounds, against which, con* 
 jured up by a vivid mentality, ^tood 
 8 
 
out in bold relief, the girl and the 
 delightful red coat that she was wear* 
 ing this season. 
 
 Mr. Stone was not particularly 
 hurried,but he walked on. His fleece* 
 lined gloves kept his hands warm in 
 the chill air. The city trees along the 
 traversed streets were bare of the 
 foliage that makes them so attractive 
 in summer time, but the trolley wires 
 seemed to sing merrily to him of her 
 in a manner which entirely offset the 
 melancholy suggested by the denud* 
 ed trees. It is singular what a mighty 
 influence is often exerted by one who 
 is far away. Possibly there is more 
 to the absent treatment practiced by 
 the Christian Scientists than the skep- 
 tics are willing to admit. However 
 this may be, Mr. Stone walked on 
 and on and on. At a certain cross 
 
street lie met his friend James Os* 
 borne walking toward him. Osborne 
 advanced with extended hand. 
 
 "How are you, Stone ?" said he. 
 "Pleasant day after the rain." 
 
 The two shook hands cordially. 
 Osborne continued uncrushed by the 
 iron look of Stone, inspired perhaps 
 by premonition : 
 
 "I see you are about to call upon 
 her and that you are going to pay the 
 usual tribute in the way of flowers. 
 Is it not so ? " 
 
 It is difficult to say why, but under 
 the influence of psychology, the an* 
 alysis of which need not here con* 
 cernus the manner of Stone changed 
 quickly but almost imperceptibly 
 from gay to grave. He liked Osborne, 
 but to be questioned thus by him was 
 a jarring note. In another moment 
 10 
 
Talleyrand's famous didtum, that 
 language was given to us for the pur** 
 pose of concealing our thoughts, 
 came over him in a flash of happy- 
 inspiration, unconsciously shaping 
 his reply. 
 
 "My dear Osborne," said Stone, 
 "your conclusions do you credit, but, 
 alas, they are based upon false prem* 
 ises. It is true that I carry flowers. 
 In point of fact I may say that they 
 are violets, but their destination is, 
 unfortunately, not such as you have 
 outlined. I weep bitter, scalding tears 
 when I think o£ the joy that might 
 come to me if your suggestions could 
 only be realized, but my errand to* 
 day is concerned rather with an 
 attempt to moderate the sufferings of 
 one of the members o£ our lodge, 
 Freeman you know, who now 
 ii 
 
languishes in St. Luke's hospital, and 
 these violets will, I tru^t, lend them* 
 selves to comforting him when I leave 
 after I have visited with him for a 
 brief hour or so." 
 
 "You will, said Stone, gaining con* 
 fidence in the realization of a good 
 lie, well told, "again see how easy it 
 is to be mistaken, in this sad world of 
 ours, and that more than one dispos* 
 ition may easily be made of violets, 
 sweet violets." 
 
 He paused for reply. "Yes," said 
 Osborne, " I see, I see. By the way," 
 he remarked somewhat irrelevant* 
 ly, "give my regards to your moth* 
 er and let us hope that your hospital 
 friend will soon recover. It is a joy* 
 ous thing to have a friend, such as 
 you, to bring violets to his cotside. 
 My dear Stone, let me not detain you 
 12 
 
longer le^t your languishing friend 
 should over4anguish. Farewell, 
 Stone, you ministering angel, fare* 
 well," and Osborne passed on. 
 
 So did Stone, who could not help 
 wondering meanwhile i£ Osborne 
 suspedted insincerity. Mr. Stone con* 8 
 tinued his walk toward the try^ting 
 place already agreed upon. Suddenly 
 a fire engine with frenzied horses and 
 clanging bell dashed pa^t him, fol* 
 lowed by the usual throng of idlers 
 who are always attradted by a fire 
 engine. The Sunday calm was rude* 
 ly broken. So also was the train of 
 thought on the part of Mr. Stone, 
 which had easily drifted back to the 
 red coat, the girl in it, and the flow-* 
 ers he meant that she should wear at 
 dinner that night. Fire engines at 
 such a time are very dii^tradling. 
 
 l 3 
 
$? Mr. Stone reached the Brooklyn 
 Bridge and began to walk over it. He 
 looked toward New York City and 
 saw its skyline. He had seen it many 
 times before, but upon this particular 
 Sunday afternoon it seemed to Stand 
 out stronger perhaps than ever. 
 When he vaguely realized what it 
 meant to so many people he was tre* 
 mendously impressed. 
 
 fc 'Dear old New- York. There is no 
 other city like it." So he mused as he 
 looked toward Governor's Island. 
 Now he had passed over the bridge 
 and essayed to cross Broadway. A 
 street car got persistently in front o£ 
 him and barred his progress for fully 
 ten minutes. When the way was 
 finally cleared of this obstruction he 
 saw another friend, one William 
 Lathrop, approaching. He greeted 
 14 
 
him pleasantly but not with over en* 
 thusiasm, as he now wished to avoid 
 detention. 
 
 Mr. Lathrop was, however, unin* 
 fluenced by similar considerations. 
 He was in no hurry whatever. The 
 two exchanged greetings and passed 
 the time of day. 
 
 Suddenly Lathrop noticed the 
 flowers, and suspicion entered into 
 him as did the evil spirits into the 
 herd of swine, who thereupon dashed 
 violently down a steep place into the 
 sea to their universal undoing. 
 "Where away -with the flowers, 
 friend Stone?" said Lathrop. Stone a* 
 gain dissembled. "These violets, you 
 mean ? Oh, I am taking them to the 
 Club to be distributed to the heathen," 
 said he, without pausing to think. 
 But suddenly realizing his careless 
 
 *5 
 
utterance he murmured sotto voce 
 "Heaven save the mark! May I be 
 forgiven these vain words ! \ 
 
 "Are these heathen foreign or do* 
 medtic ? " inquired Lathrop. 
 
 "Yes. No. I guess so. I don't 
 know/" confusedly said Stone. 
 "Why do you ask?" 
 
 "Oh nothing, only such people 
 have interested me for years," said 
 Lathrop. "I have always wondered 
 why the heathen rage and why they 
 imagine vain things the way they 
 are said to do. Can it be that the 
 heathen are feminine? But no, o£ 
 course they can't be. And yet, and 
 yet, and yet — " He did not finish. 
 Into the eyes of Lathrop there came 
 a far-away look that strikingly re* 
 sembled the so-called "hunted look" 
 that finds mention in folk4ore tales. 
 16 
 
He was thinking hard and ere he was 
 aware he had mechanically moved 
 on, just before a blue coated police* 
 man wearing his new military cap, 
 could formulate his intended order 
 for him to do so. Stone gazed medita* 
 tively after the retreating form of 
 Lathrop and mentally wished him a 
 pleasant journey and a safe return, 
 in the manner of the landlord of the 
 fashionable seaside hotel, whose 
 business it is to welcome the coming 
 and speed the parting gue^t. Stone 
 felt that he could with a clear con* 
 science speed Lathrop, in spite of his 
 mythical story of the heathen destin* 
 ation of the violets that he still held 
 firmly clasped in his right hand. 
 
 Breathing easily, at this la^t es* 
 cape, Stone had but ju^t turned the 
 corner when who should re*appear 
 
 l 7 
 
but the ubiquitous Osborne, and. wo* 
 ful to relate, with him was Miss 
 Freeman, the sifter of his only real 
 creation, the sick fellow lodge 
 member. 
 
 " Well met," cried Osborne glee" 
 fully. "Miss Freeman is ju^t on her 
 way to St. Luke's. You can take her 
 there and make your visit at the same 
 time. 
 
 With a wrathful glare, barely 
 smothered as Miss Freeman looked 
 in amazement at him, Stone muttered 
 an excuse about a previous engage* 
 ment before he would be ready to go 
 to the hospital, and fled precipitately 
 down a side street. 
 
 Reaching at la^l the place of meet* 
 
 ing, worn out with his fabrications 
 
 of the afternoon, exasperated by the 
 
 open incredulity of his friends, and 
 
 18 
 
the final narrow escape, he threw the 
 flowers into the girl's hands, saying 
 somewhat impatiently, fc 'take them! " 
 All unconscious of their previous his* 
 tory, the girl drew herself up indig* 
 nant at the manner of the gift. Dire 
 consequences threatened to overtake 
 Stone, but truth, though late in the 
 day, and almost crushed to earth, 
 triumphed at last. As he faithfully 
 delineated the agonizing experiences 
 of the afternoon her anger faded, and 
 she wore the violets for him ju£t as 
 he had intended she should do in the 
 fir^t place, and all the time. When 
 he looked over the teacups at her, he 
 forgot all about the hypothetical visit 
 to St. Luke's hospital and the mythi* 
 cal distribution of his flowers to the 
 heathen by his club, about which he 
 had so wickedly romanced. And the 
 
 ' 19 
 
only thing about which he could pos* 
 sibly think was how becoming the 
 delicately perfumed violets looked 
 on the girl who in dining sat immedi' 
 ately facing him at the table. 
 
 Here ends "The Bunch of Violets," 
 -written by W. G. Bowdoin; with 
 frontispiece in photogravure from a 
 study by Agnes Vinton Luther. One 
 hundred two copies printed for the 
 author by Frederic & Bertha Goudy 
 at The Village Press, New York in 
 November, 1907, and the type dis* 
 tribute d. This copy is No. 
 
 3477-113 
 Lot 74 
 

 
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