had plighted her troth, was well worthy of the jewel he had gained. The old praised, and the young admired as the bridal party turned toward their home, a simple, vine-shaded cottage, not a stone's-throw from where thou art lying. They did not forget the God who had bestowed so much of happiness upon them, even in the midst of pleasure, and often they would come in the hush of twilight, and, kneeling by the altar, give thanks for all the mercies they had received.

"Two years-long as the period may seem to youth—glides swiftly past when the heart is at rest. Then once more a chime floated from the belfry. It was at early dawn, when the mist was lying on the mountain's side, and the dew hid trembling in the flower-bells, frighted by the first beams of the rising day. A son had been given to them, a bright, healthful babe, with eyes blue as the mother's who clasped him to her breast, and dedicated him with his first breath to the parent who had watched over her orphaned youth, and had given this treasure to her keeping.

"That bright day faded, and even came sadly upon the face of nature. Deep and mournful was the tone which I flung upon the passing wind; and the fir-trees of the forest sent back a moan from their swaying branches, heavily swaying, as if for very sympathy. Life was that day given, but another had been recalled. The young mother's deep sleep was not broken even by the wailing voice of her first-born, for it was the repose of death.

66 They laid her beside the very spot where she had passed so many hours; and then I knew it was the grave of her parents which she had so loved to visit.

"The son lived, and the father's grief abated, when he saw

the boy growing in the image of his mother; and when the child, with uncertain footsteps, had dared to tread upon the velvet grass, the father brought him to the church-yard, and clasping his little hands as he knelt beside him, taught the babe that he had also a Father in heaven.

"I have lain since that time almost by her side, for my pride was humbled, when they removed me from the station I had so long occupied. My voice has been hushed from that sorrowful night even till now, but I am compelled to speak to thee.

"Boy! boy! it is thy mother of whom I have told thee! Two lives were given for thine; thy mother, who brought thee into the world -thy Saviour, who would give thee a second birth they have died that thou might live; and for so great a sacrifice how much will be required of thee! See to it, that thou art not found wanting when a reckoning is demanded of thee."

Suddenly as it had been borne to his ears, the voice became silent. The boy started, as if from deep sleep, and put his hand to his brow. The dew lay damply upon it,the shades of evening had crept over the churchyard; and he could scarce discern the white slab that marked the resting-place of his mother. It may have been a dream- but when he searched about him for the old bell, it was lying with its lip very near to the fragrant pillow upon which he had reposed.

Thoughtfully and slowly the boy went toward his home, but though he told none, not even his father, what had befallen him, the story of the old bell was never forgotten, and his future life was influenced by the remembrance.

VOICES FROM FLOWERS.

A WOMANLY love is the love of flowers,
With their soft and rich perfume,
'Tis a graceful task to rear and guard

Young plants as they bud and bloom;
And flowers can speak as in olden time,
Though no audible voices thrill,
Their velvet lips are not moved apart,
Yet their words can the silence fill.

This campion rose is a messenger
To tell of a Southern clime;

The orange buds bear in their snowy bells
The tones of a bridal chime.

The violet whispers of modest worth,

And see as a thought of Heaven The amaranth bathed to its very heart With the purple hues of even!

I have blossoms withering now and sere
That told me of love and truth,

They were offered by one who early claimed
The friendship of trusting youth.

The buds are faded, the leaves are brown,
But I prize and treasure them yet,

Though tears will fall as they meet my gaze,
Recalling a fond regret.

For a common weed, with its pale, blue cup,
Is twined with that very flower,

It knew no nurture from gentle hands,
It grew in no garden bower.

'T was the first faint bloom 'mid the tangled grass That grew on that friend's low grave,

Ah, little we thought when the first were given How soon should the last one wave.

And yet a message of Hope was breathed
From each fragile and tender leaf,

That came as a "voice from the Spirit Land"
To solace my heart's wild grief;

It seemed as a type of the second life

As it bloomed where no foot had trod, For its petals bore the blue of Heaven, And it sprang from the lonely sod.

20

"Say not, thou who art bereaved, 'There is no sorrow like unto

HE Rose was certainly the most queenly flower in all that spacious garden.

Some say queenly, when they mean haughty;

but our rose had nothing of haughtiness in the serenely proud air with which she received the homage of the dew, the sunshine, and the evening wind. These were her most loyal subjects; the gay humming-bird was certainly very inconstant in his allegiance, for often he would be found fluttering about the Campanula and the pale Lilies, when he should have been bending over her.

The Rose nodded carelessly, when the neighbouring Tulip whispered this, for she knew the Tulip was a sad gossip, and more than one suspected she was black at the heart, from envy of her royal friend.

Little did the Rose care for the desertion of the bright-winged bird. Did not the dew pay a fond tribute to her beauty every evening, and when the morning sun crept with red rays to her