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The bell was ringing to call her away: so she hastened to the convent chapel, while Jessie stood at the window again, watching till Lisette and her basket had disappeared within the chapel-door. thinking very earnestly. Presently she went to a little wicker-stand in the other window, where there were three hyacinths in bloom, — pink and purple and white, -- very lovely and very sweet.

“Aunt Mary,” she said at last, “I wish I could give my flowers to Jesus too."

“But, Jessie, do you think it is giving them to Jesus to put them in front of the little image in the church? When you gather a bouquet for your mamma, do you lay it before her picture in the parlor ?”

“Why, no, Aunt Mary; of course, I give it into her own hands : but then I can not give them to Jesus in that way. You know, when little sister died, we put roses on her grave: that was because we could not give them to her any more.”

“Dear Jessie, they were not for her: they were to show that you remembered her and loved her. But Jesus is not dead. Remember that he says, 'Behold, I am alive for evermore!'”

“But, auntie, how can I give him my hyacinths ?” "I will tell you, dear. Jesus knew that people who

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loved him would often want to do something to show their love; and so he said once, ‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. That means, that, if we do something for some one that Jesus loves, he takes it as if it were done for him, just as your mother feels that any one who is kind to you is doing her a kindness.”

“Do you know of any one whom he loves who would be glad of my hyacinths, Aunt Mary?”

“Yes, dear. I am going to the hospital this afternoon to see poor Ellen Stevens. I know that these flowers would be a delight to her; for her little room looks bare and cheerless, and I have often heard her speak of the pretty garden they had in England before they were so poor. And she is one of Christ's children: I feel very sure of that. If you like, you may go with me, and we will take the flowers.”

Just then Charlie Lewis — a dear little boy just five years old — came in to spend the morning with Jessie, and the two children were soon engaged in very merry play. But while Jessie went up stairs to find her woolly lamb for Charlie to draw about the room, and I was called to the door for a moment, he climbed up into a chair, and broke off the pink hyacinth, over

which he was rejoicing when Jessie returned. Poor child ! she tried hard to be polite to her little visitor; but she was too sorry and disappointed not to begin to cry at the sight.

“Come here, darling," I said ; and she soon was in her favorite place, - Aunt Mary's lap; while Charlie ran about, too happy with both lamb and flower to take any notice of the trouble he had caused. “You said you wanted to give the flower to Jesus.' Perhaps it will please him just as well to have little Charlie have it and enjoy it, as if you gave all three to Ellen. It is not the way you meant to give it to him; but

; that is not much matter, if he is pleased.”

So my child was comforted. In the afternoon, poor Ellen received the other two hyacinths; and Jessie was quite satisfied, when she saw how pleased she was, that she had found the right way to give her flowers to Jesus. She said so, when we went into the nuns' chapel, on the way home, and saw Lisette's flowers just beginning to droop, as they lay at the feet of the image of the Virgin and Child. There was no one else in the chapel, and it was beginning to grow dark.

I am glad my flowers are where some one can see them and love them,” said Jessie ; "and you know Jesus can see them just as well in the hospital as here. And I am glad,” she said, that evening, when we were at home again, “that Charlie had my pink one; and I like to see the leaves of it, to remind me that Jesus has all the rest.”


I live for those who love me,

Whose hearts are kind and true ;
For the heaven that smiles above me,

And awaits my spirit too ;
For all human ties that bind me;
For the task by God assigned me;
For the bright hopes left behind me,

And the good that I can do.

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I live to hail that season,

By gifted minds foretold,
When men shall live by reason,

And not alone by gold ;
When, man to man united,
And every wrong thing righted,
The whole world shall be lighted

As Eden was of old.

I live for those who love me,

For those who know me true;
For the heaven that smiles above me,

And awaits my spirit too ;
For the cause that lacks assistance ;
For the wrong that needs resistance;
For the future in the distance,
And the good that I can do.

Dublin University Magazine.


The pilgrim and stranger, who, through the day,
Holds over the desert his trackless way,
Where the terrible sands no shade have known,
No sound of life save his camel's moan,

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