wing free, and they held up their heads and drank the sunshine,
and opened fair and sweet to the day.

Then, with her blessing warm at my heart, I turned me homeward: and oh!
and oh! in the ruined garden where all lay black and prone, a thread of
green creeping, a tiny bud peeping, a breath of spring upon the air.
Glad woman, I fell upon my knees, and stretched out trembling hands to
where, faint and feeble, yet alive, bloomed once more my flower of joy.

THE BURNING HOUSE

Some neighbours were walking together in the cool of the day, watching
the fall of the twilight, and talking of this and that; and as they
walked, they saw at a little distance a light, as it were a house on
fire.

"From the direction, that must be our neighbour William's house," said
one. "Ought we not to warn him of the danger?"

"I see only a little flame," said another; "perchance it may go out of
itself, and no harm done."

"I should be loth to carry ill news," said a third; "it is always a
painful thing to do."

"William is not a man who welcomes interference," said a fourth. "I
should not like to be the one to intrude upon his privacy; probably he
knows about the fire, and is managing it in his own way."

While they were talking, the house burned up.

THE PLANT

A plant grew up in the spring, and spread its leaves and looked abroad,
rejoicing in its life.

"To grow!" said the plant. "To be beautiful, and gladden the eyes of
those who look on me: this is life. The Giver of it be praised!"

Now the plant budded and blossomed: lovely the blossoms were, and sweet,
and men plucked them joyfully.

"This is well!" said the plant. "To send beauty and fragrance hither and
thither, to sweeten the world even a little, this is life: the Giver of
it be praised!"

Autumn came, and the plant stood lonely, yet at peace. "One cannot
always be in blossom!" it said. "One has done what one could, and a
little is part of the whole."

By and by came a gatherer of herbs, and cut the green leaves from the
plant. "They are good for bruises," he said; "or distilled, their juice
may heal an inward wound."

The plant heard and rejoiced. "To heal!" it said. "That is even better
than to gladden the eyes. The Giver of this too be praised!"

Now it was winter. The dry stalk stood in the field, and crackled with
the frost, its few remaining leaves clinging black and shrivelled about
it.

"All is over now," said the plant. "There must be