e that it had the
benefit of every ray of sunlight, down to the last that struggled in
through the narrow window; and the flower itself was woven into his
dreams, for it grew for him and gladdened his eyes, and spread its
fragrance about him; and toward it he turned in death when the Father
called him. He has now been with the Almighty for a year; for a year the
flower has stood forgotten in the window, and is withered; and thus, at
the removal, it has been thrown out into the dust of the street. And
this is the flower, the poor withered flower, which we have taken into
our nosegay; for this flower has given more joy than the richest flower
in a Queen's garden!"

"But how do you know all this?" asked the child which the angel was
carrying to heaven.

"I know it," said the angel, "for I myself was that little boy who
walked on crutches! I know my flower well!"

And the child opened his eyes and looked into the glorious, happy face
of the angel; and at the same moment they entered the regions where
there is peace and joy. And the Father pressed the dead child to His
bosom, and then it received wings like the angel, and flew hand in hand
with him. And the Almighty pressed all the flowers to His heart; but He
kissed the dry withered field flower, and it received a voice and sang
with all the angels hovering around--some near, and some in wider
circles, and some in infinite distance, but all equally happy. And they
all sang, little and great, the good happy child, and the poor field
flower that had lain there withered, thrown among the dust, in the
rubbish of the removal-day, in the narrow, dark lane.

THE RED SHOES

By HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

There once was a little girl; a very nice pretty little girl. But in
summer she had to go barefoot, because she was poor, and in winter she
wore thick wooden shoes, so that her little instep became quite red,
altogether red.

In the middle of the village lived an old shoemaker's wife; she sat, and
sewed, as well as she could, a pair of little shoes, of old strips of
red cloth; they were clumsy enough, but well meant, and the little girl
was to have them. The little girl's name was Karen.

On the day when her mother was buried she received the red shoes and
wore them for the first time. They were certainly not suited for
mourning; but she had no others, and therefore thrust her little bare
feet into them and walked behind the plain deal coffin.

Suddenly a great car