, where scarcely
any sunshine ever came, and where the people were often rough and
wicked. Little Willie and his sister knew nothing about green fields
spotted with daisies, they had never seen a flower. One day a kind
friend took all the poor children living in the court for a drive into
the country. I cannot tell you how happy Willie and his sister were
when they saw the trees and hedges, which were all new and strange to
them. Presently they passed a garden in which were growing some
sweet-smelling red flowers. Willie had never seen anything half so
lovely, and he was anxious to know what the flowers were called, so
they told him that they were roses. Well, after a time, when the
Winter came, little Willie fell ill. Day after day his sister sat
beside him, holding his thin white hand in hers. Often they talked
about that wonderful day in the country, where they had seen the roses.
Often, too, they talked about Jesus, and the still more beautiful
country where He lived. The children were very ignorant, but they had
been to Sunday School, and learnt something about the dear Lord who
loves children. One cold, dark day, little Willie was much worse, and
he said to his sister--"Oh! I wish I could see a rose once more. I
wish you would go and get me one of those roses we saw that day!" So
the little sister, who loved him dearly, set out to walk to the place
where they had seen the flowers. After a long and weary journey, she
came to the field where they had played, and the garden where the roses
grew. But the field and the garden were white with snow, and there
were no roses there. The little girl was worn out with hunger and
fatigue, and she dropped on her knees in the snow, and prayed, and this
was her prayer--"Dear Jesus, send me one rose, only one, for little
Willie." Just then a carriage came along the road, and the lady who
rode in it had a beautiful red rose in her hand, which had grown in a
greenhouse. She dropped it from the window, I suppose, by accident,
but when the little girl saw it lying on the snow, she thought that
Jesus had sent it to her, and took it up lovingly to carry to her
brother. But she had no more strength to struggle through the cold
night, and when the morning came they found her dead upon the white
snow, with the red rose in her hand. That night little Willie, lying
alone in the cold, dark, garret, also died. And the writer of this
story thinks that when the brother and si