till a neighbor's
son brought him a green bough from a beech-tree. This he would place
over his head, and fancy that he was in the beech-wood while the sun
shone, and the birds carolled gayly. One spring day the neighbor's boy
brought him some field-flowers, and among them was one to which the
root still adhered. This he carefully planted in a flower-pot, and
placed in a window-seat near his bed. And the flower had been
planted by a fortunate hand, for it grew, put forth fresh shoots,
and blossomed every year. It became a splendid flower-garden to the
sick boy, and his little treasure upon earth. He watered it, and
cherished it, and took care it should have the benefit of every
sunbeam that found its way into the cellar, from the earliest
morning ray to the evening sunset. The flower entwined itself even
in his dreams--for him it bloomed, for him spread its perfume. And
it gladdened his eyes, and to the flower he turned, even in death,
when the Lord called him. He has been one year with God. During that
time the flower has stood in the window, withered and forgotten,
till at length cast out among the sweepings into the street, on the
day of the lodgers' removal. And this poor flower, withered and
faded as it is, we have added to our nosegay, because it gave more
real joy than the most beautiful flower in the garden of a queen."

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

"I know it," said the angel, "because I myself was the poor sick
boy who walked upon crutches, and I know my own flower well."

Then the child opened his eyes and looked into the glorious
happy face of the angel, and at the same moment they found
themselves in that heavenly home where all is happiness and joy. And
God pressed the dead child to His heart, and wings were given him so
that he could fly with the angel, hand in hand. Then the Almighty
pressed all the flowers to His heart; but He kissed the withered
field-flower, and it received a voice. Then it joined in the song of
the angels, who surrounded the throne, some near, and others in a
distant circle, but all equally happy. They all joined in the chorus
of praise, both great and small,--the good, happy child, and the
poor field-flower, that once lay withered and cast away on a heap of
rubbish in a narrow, dark street.

ANNE LISBETH

Anne Lisbeth was a beautiful young woman, with a red and white
complexion, glittering white