way, to be good and useful. She said she was
just beginning to understand her selfishness. She told me I had done
her ever so much good; and I couldn't help the tears coming into my
eyes. I wished so much you were there, or some one who could help her
more; but I suppose God knew when he sent me. Doesn't it seem strange
that an old woman should talk to me in this way, and come to me for
help? I am afraid people would laugh at the very idea. And only to
think of her living on and on, year after year, and then being changed
so! She kissed me when I came away, and I carried the flowers to the
hospital. I shall always be fond of that conservatory, because, if I
hadn't stopped to look in that day, I might never have thought of her.

"There was one strange thing happened, which I must tell you about,
though it is so late. She has grown very much interested in an old
candy-woman, and told me about her; and do you know that this evening
uncle Jack came in, and asked if we knew of anybody who would do for
janitress--at the Natural History rooms, I think he said. There is
good pay, and she would just sell catalogues, and look after things a
little. Of course the candy-woman may not be competent; but, from what
Miss Sydney told me, I think she is just the person."

The next Sunday the minister read this extract from "Queen's Gardens"
in his sermon. Two of his listeners never had half understood its
meaning before as they did then. Bessie was in church, and Miss Sydney
suddenly turned her head, and smiled at her young friend, to the great
amazement of the people who sat in the pews near by. What _could_ have
come over Miss Sydney?

"The path of a good woman is strewn with flowers; but they rise
_behind_ her steps, not before them. 'Her feet have touched the
meadow, and left the daisies rosy.' Flowers flourish in the garden of
one who loves them. A pleasant magic it would be if you could flush
flowers into brighter bloom by a kind look upon them; nay, more, if a
look had the power not only to cheer but to guard them. This you would
think a great thing? And do you think it not a greater thing that all
this, and more than this, you can do for fairer flowers than
these,--flowers that could bless you for having blessed them, and will
love you for having loved them,--flowers that have eyes like yours,
and thoughts like yours, and lives like yours?"

LADY FERRY.

We have an instinctive fear of death; yet we have a horror of a