The Baldwm Library
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W WISH DADDY WOULD GIVE YOU TO ME
Little Dot Series.
A YELLOW ROSE
Volb bp 3Itself.
BY JESSE PAGE.
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY:
56, PATERNOSTER Row; 65, ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD
AND 164, PICCADILLY.
F :!~ 'H;
co0 NTJ T S.
I. THE GARDEN WHERE I WAS BORN 5
II. MY FIRST JOURNEY AND THE LAME BOY 13
III. I CHANGE HANDS AND FIND NEW FRIENDS 23
IV. THE LADY WITH THE WHITE LACE CAP 33
V. I LODGE IN A CELLAR WITH PATSY .44
VI. I END MY DAYS FOLDED IN MORE PRECIOUS
STORY OF A YELLOW ROSE.
The Garden where I was Born.
INCE I had been a full-grown
rose I have often heard boys
I and girls telling stories to each
other, and they generally begin
\ with the words, "Once upon a
time;" so I think I shall say first
of all that once upon a time in a lovely
garden in the pleasant county of Kent, a
little rose was born, and I was that flower.
Of course it was not very long ago, for our
lives at longest rarely go beyond two weeks;
but looking back over that time, I seem to
have seen many changes, and all sorts of
people, since that sunny morning when I first
6 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
opened my little bud to see the light of day
and to look about me in the world.
We were a happy family of flowers in that
garden, which belonged to Mr. Jonathan Giles,
as indeed anybody passing that way might
easily see from the sign-board hung over the
gate, stating in green letters on a white ground,
that the owner was "Jonathan Giles, Florist
and Nurseryman, late Gardener to his Lord-
ship at the Hall."
The first time I heard a man's voice was
when the master, walking amongst us one day,
remarked, "I say, William, this little 'un's out
at last, leastways it will be in a day or two."
"What, master! d'ye mean the Glory ?"
"Ay, lad, and that's the fifteenth bloom as
we have had from that tree."
"A good 'un, master, I should say; and I'll
keep an eye upon it for the market next
So the talk ended, which vainly I tried to
understand; but an old rose on a bush close
by whispered that it was about me they were
talking, and it surely meant that before long
The Garden where I was Born. 7
the large cold scissors would come my way.
At which I trembled violently, and hung my
head in sheer fright; and glad was I to hear
the last of the footsteps of those two big men,
who seemed to take such a fancy to us, and
treat us with such care and attention, and
then some fine day, as in a fit of rage, would
snip us off with those sharp cruel things.
Perhaps you would like to know who were
my neighbours, and whose were the pretty
flower faces, I looked upon for the first time
that morning. Just on the other side of the
pathway, and all along where I was growing,
were long lines of rose-bushes, with blooms
of various kinds, bright red, deep crimson,
very dark claret, pure white, and others a pale
yellow like gold. For I must tell you that
our master was famous for his roses, had
indeed been praised very much for his work
at the Hall in days gone by; and he used
to be with us in the early morning and the
quiet dewy evening, to preserve us from any
harm, and to see how we were getting on.
Very kind it seemed, but I am afraid after
8 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
all it was very like those people of whom I
have since heard in my wandering, who feed
up the turkeys and geese very carefully, so
that at Christmas they may die in good con-
dition, and fetch a capital price. But I was
telling you about my friends. In the distance,
at the end of the rose-walk, grew the gay
nasturtiums, a very strong group they were;
and round the corner, in a bed by them-
selves, the fuchsias hung their lovely heads.
Behind where my bush was standing, a
sweet scent filled the air, where the "cherry
pie" flowers were growing; and right away
to the right of us, in scores of little pots,
young geraniums were waiting to be trans-
planted to other gardens. Besides these were
many other plants, some not yet in flower;
and up close by the side of Mr. Giles' house
was a glass structure, fitted with rows of
shelves, upon which rested what we always
called the "special extra fine flowers, in a
warm atmosphere all by themselves.
Now I must not forget to tell you that Mr.
Giles had a daughter, little Maggie she was
The Garden where I was Born. 9
called, and to this tiny lass he was very much
attached. And we all loved her too, and were
quite sure that she loved us. After her father
had gone that morning, Maggie came running
down the path to see me.
"Oh, you ducky little bud, don't I wish
daddy would give you to me to keep all by
myself." And so I wished too, she was such
a dear little woman in her pink frock and
ribbons, and had such a pair of sparkling blue
eyes. But this was not to be.
Two days passed; I had opened my petals
more, and the warm sunshine went to my
very heart, and in my own way I thanked
the Lord. And I must say I was both sorry
and surprised to notice that Mr. Giles and
William, when they saw we were doing so
well, never seemed to give any praise to Him,
who alone gave us our pretty colours and
sweet perfume, which I thought then, and
still think, very ungrateful on their part.
"There's not a tint that paints the rose,
Or decks the lily fair,
Or streaks the humblest flower that blows,
But God has placed it there.
10 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
There's not of grass a single blade,
Or leaf of loveliest green,
Where heavenly skill is not displayed,
And heavenly wisdom seen."
It was early morning, and all was very still
in the garden, the flowers glistening with the
dewdrops, and the butterflies and bees flying
to and fro amongst us. Oh, to stay in this
sweet place for ever !
"William William! wake up, my man."
"All right, master, I was just coming along,
only Farmer Briggs wanted to tell me what
a fine hare was caught in the home-close last
"Oh, never mind Farmer Briggs, William;
I want us to get these blooms, or they won't
be in time for the Garden to-day."
The Garden I found out afterwards was
only a market up in London town.
One by one the roses were clipped off, and
laid lightly in a basket, with their tears of
dew on their bright cheeks, as though sorry
to leave their country home. Presently Mr.
Giles came to me. "What do you think,
William, shall we leave it a bit ?"
The Garden where I was Born. 11
(Again my leaves quaked with fear, for I
knew they were speaking of me.)
"Well, master, of course do as you thinks
best; but I should gather the bud, as it will
be full enough out in time, I'll be bound."
(Oh, William, how could you say that ?)
No sooner said than done. I felt the chilly
steel at my stem, and in another moment
was lying with the others in the basket.
"Whatever is going to happen to us," I
asked of a large and beautiful fellow-sufferer.
"Oh, I should think most likely I shall
form part of a bride's bouquet; but you see
you are such a bit of a thing, it's impossible
to say what will become of you."
The rose spoke very proudly, which hurt
my feelings; but she had always been a vain
conceited flower. Little Maggie came peeping
in at the basket, before it was covered, in
search I guessed of me.
'Daddy, have you cut the pretty Glory
"Yes, dearie; but there'll be plenty more
out in a few days."
12 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
Maggie seemed delighted, so easily do some
little people forget their old friends.
Shut up in the basket, we lay on the ground
at Mr. Giles' gate for several minutes, just
whispering to each other in the cool shade
of the leaves which had been thrown on top
of us, and wondering how those special extra
fine were getting on, which had been plucked
at the same time, but had been wrapped up
in cotton wool to keep their delicate con-
stitutions, as we imagined, from taking cold.
"Hallo, Briggs! just take this basket of
flowers up to the Garden for me,-leave it at
Israel's shop, please, and tell him they are
extra good to-day."
All right, Master Giles. Does the missus
want anything from London ?"
Mrs. Giles came running out of the house
in haste. Yes, Mr. Briggs, my little Maggie
wants a hymn-book from that shop near St.
Paul's, not more than a shilling, please, and
goodish large print."
Briggs nodded assent and drove away, and
I never never saw any of the Giles's again.
lfig First lournei and the Lame Biog.
.L N EVER having travelled before, the
jolting gave me a headache; and
by the time I reached Covent
Garden Market, my face did not
look half so fresh, as when a few
hours before, I had breathed my fragrance
in my Kentish home.
Mr. Israel was a little man, somewhat bald,
with a large hooked nose, and a grey beard.
I did not like him a bit as he took me in his
fingers, and smelt my perfume without a smile.
"Vat have you got beshide these roshes,
Misther Briggs ?"
"That's all, Mr. Israel; and Giles said they
were wonderful good."
Ah, those fine vords of his von't make me
pay any more monish."
My new quarters, now that I could look
14 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
round a little, were very strange to me. The
shop of Mr. Israel to which I had been con-
signed was not large, but filled up to the roof
with baskets; and in the window, stuck in
tall thin glasses, were many cut flowers; and
no doubt, thought I, my turn will come to
take my place in that row. But I was mis-
taken, for the Jew, picking out a handful of
the best of us, including me, hurried across
the square into what was I suppose really the
market. A stout red-faced woman, standing at
her shop-door in the arcade, looked up as Mr.
Israel made his way through the crowd.
"No, no, Israel, it's no use bringing 'em to
me; there's no trade doing now, and I've half
a score a-fading now in their glasses yonder."
"Don't shay so, Mother Paxton; these are
very goot, and will be shure to go off soonn"
He selected me from the others; and Mrs.
Paxton, without taking me out of his hand,
eyed me all over, and at last stooped down to
smell my fragrance. She was evidently pleased
thereby, for a smile came over her face, as she
said, I'll take that one at any rate; but lack-
My First Journey and the Lame Boy. 15
a-day! I shall be ruined if the customers don't
A few moments more, and I was put in a
narrow tall glass, and placed between a white
camellia and a dainty sprig of mignonette, tied
up with a spray of maidenhair fern.
There was no glass in the window, so I
could look at the people passing to and fro
in front of the shop, rich folk with fine dresses
just loitering along, gazing at the flowers and
fruit with a languid air. Poor folk, ill-clothed
and anxious-looking, hurrying along, carrying
baskets and parcels, now and then stopping
for a moment to look into our faces as we
catch their eye,-dealers in such as we, like
Mr. Israel and my new mistress, talking about
trade and the price of blooms,-little children,
pushed here and there by the careless people,
trying to get a peep at the pretty buds and
blossoms they may never touch or own, and
pointing out to one another the rosiest apples,
and the biggest bunch of grapes. Indeed it was
a busy scene, all so new, noisy, and strange to
me, so many different kinds of faces too, some
16 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
happy and bright, as though they were looking
for a wedding bouquet, others sad and tearful,
seeking no doubt a few white flowers to deck
the grave of their loved ones passed away.
Mrs. Paxton, although she had a rough ex-
terior, was a kind-hearted creature, and this
I found out before I had been an hour under
her care. I thought at first that she was
alone in the shop, but hearing a quiet voice
I looked round, and saw sitting on one of
the baskets at the back, quite in the shade
and out of the way of the bustle, a little pale-
faced boy. Two crutches were reared up by
his side, and it was clear that he could not
walk without difficulty. I also noticed that
he had a book open on his knee.
Mother, can you come here just a minute, I
can't make out this shepherd picture a bit."
"Wait, dear, till I've served this lady, and
I'll be with you."
It seems so funny," said the boy to himself,
"the man isn't driving the sheep like I've seen
them; and he looks so kind and nice, I should
like to know a good man like him."
Mly First Journey and the Lame Boy. 17
In a moment or two the customer had gone,
and Mrs. Paxton was by the side of her boy,
kneeling down on the floor, all her rough
looks gone, and with great gentleness helping
him to understand the picture.
Ah, Dannie dearie, you know I can't read
much, for your mother has had little enough
book learning, having to work hard to get
bread and cheese; but it looks a nice picter."
"Yes, mother dear, and last Sunday teacher
told us that Jesus was our Good Shepherd, and
would lead us and feed us; but I thought
the man always drove the sheep before him,
and so I was bothered ever so."
But maybe, my dear, they does lead 'em in
that country; leastways, Dannie love, it's all
right, and it's a comfort to know that a little
lame lad like you has got such a kind friend."
"Mother dear," and he looked up into her
face so earnestly, "when we get to heaven,
won't it be nice for me to run to you like other
children do; and there'll be no crutches up
there, or shops, or nasty customers to worry
you then ?"
18 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
Now Mrs. Paxton often heard her boy
Daniel talk about heaven; and whenever he
did get on that topic, she always felt it
necessary to go and look for something in a
secluded part of the shop, or bustle off to the
window for a moment. And she did this
again, pretending to arrange my petals and
fix me afresh in the little glass; but I could
see that her eyes were full of tears, and I
heard her sob, and whisper to herself, "0
Lord, I cannot, cannot part with my boy."
But she soon dried her tears; and going
back with a gentle smile, which looked like
sunshine on the dewdrops, she kissed her
boy, putting a flower on his book. For all
that, however, when she was at her door again,
sharply bargaining with some trying customer,
she cast often a wistful glance back to the
rear of the shop, and I heard, though perhaps
she did not, Dannie talking to himself, with
his head leaning wearily against the baskets.
I just caught the words, "For ever and for
ever! Oh, how I wish my turn would come,
and with the Shepherd too, who won't leave
My First Journey and the Lume Boy. 19
poor me with my lame foot in the desert to
die, but will lift me up and carry Dannie in
His strong arms. And then I shall look upon
His face and say,'Please, you will fetch mother
when I'm all safe,-she is such a dear kind
mother to Dannie."
The day passed and no one bought me, and
I spent the night in darkness, after watching
Mrs. Paxton and her crippled boy slowly
making their way home down the arcade.
The night was still enough to begin with;
but long before the break of dawn, I could
hear men shouting and running to and fro,
and heavy wagons laden with vegetables and
fruit were lumbering in the market square.
I was very glad when Mrs. Paxton's key was
heard in the door, and once more I saw the
sunshine streaming through the glass roof.
But no Dannie was with Mrs. Paxton that
morning; and I noticed a very troubled look
on her face, as she set to work arranging
the fruit and flowers in the shop window.
"How is the little chap this morning, my
20 7he Sto-'y of a Yellow Rose.
The speaker was a thin, middle-aged woman
in faded black, who got a scanty livelihood by
"Only poorly, Mrs. Marley, I thank you."
"Ah, my dear, he reminds me worry much
of my poor Harry, my lad as was took just
eight years agone, dear heart! He was such
a joy to me !"
"Oh, Mrs. Marley, please don't talk about
that; it a'most breaks my heart now to think
he too might go away one of these bad times
"To be for ever with the Lord is the best
thing for any of us, Mrs. Paxton "
It was Cliffs that said this, old Cliffs who
sold bootlaces to the men in the market; a
little wiry man with iron grey locks and a
thin face, but a bright cheery eye. He might
be seen any Sunday at the Primitive Methodist
chapel in the street close by, in his own sitting
under the back gallery.
So it is, Cliffs; and may the good Lord
bring all on us there in His own good time."
"Amen," said the poor nut-seller, and just
ily First Journey and the Lame Boy. 21
then a crowd of men passed, shouting for a
way to be made, and the friends separated.
But in my little glass in front of Mrs.
Paxton's shop I watched these simple people;
and I felt sure that the good Lord who sent
His sunshine to open my little bud, and
painted me with such a lovely colour, and
breathed into me such a sweet fragrance,
would surely watch over and comfort these
His children, who were bearing their little
burdens patiently, and yet thankful to the
Giver of all good. I think the words of little
Dannie's hymn must have been often on their
lips, for they seemed full of faith:-
"When the way is dark and drear,
When no loving friend is near;
When we suffer pain or loss,
When we bow beneath the cross,
Be our Comforter and Friend,
Guide and keep us to the end.
When we strive to do the right,
When we follow, serve, or fight,
When we seek to do Thy will,
When we hear Thee say Stand still,'
Be our Comforter and Friend,
Guide and keep us to the end."
But my stay at Covent Garden was soon to
draw to an end, and I must say good-bye to
22 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
my friends for ever. I fancied that Mrs.
Paxton looked at me several times that morn-
ing, as much as to say, "Whenever will a
customer choose you, I wonder;" and I
began to droop my head with a little shame,
when a gentleman well-dressed and handsome
stopped in front of the shop.
Is it a flower, sir, you want ? There's a
very pretty rose here."
The gentleman took me up in his hand,
smelled my scent, and paying my price, I was
soon transferred to his button-hole, and carried
away through the busy streets, past churches
and shops, across large squares with trees; my
new owner being a brisk walker, and evidently
anxious to reach his destination.
I was just guessing to myself how much
farther he could go without coming outside
the big city, when my owner stopped suddenly,
and lifting his hat as he passed the window,
he rang the bell, and waited in the portico.
Who would open the door, and what sort of a
lady or gentlemen would next meet me, I
wondered very much.
I Change Iands, and Find flew
HE servant opened the door,
and the gentleman stepped
lightly into the dining-room,
where he was met by a young
lady, the same who had smiled
so frequently at the window
when my owner saluted her.
"Thank you, Arthur; what a beautiful
flower! And thus speaking she pinned me
in her dress, and gave me a chance of looking
up in her sweet face. She had dark eyes, and
a smile which I shall never forget; it seemed
to put new life in me, and make me lift up
my head again.
All that evening I was in her company;
and for the first time in my short life I heard
24 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
music, when she sat at the piano, and not
only played several pieces, but sang in a low
tender voice. One pleased me very much,
two verses of which I remember:-
There is a green hill far away
Without a city wall,
Where the dear Lord was crucified
Who died to save us all.
He died that we might be forgiven,
He died to make us good,
That we might go at last to heaven,
Saved by His precious blood."
My new home was a very beautiful one.
The furniture was costly, and on the table
was an elegant ornament filled with flowers;
and at night, before my young lady retired,
she put me with these, that I might revive
my drooping petals in the cool fresh water.
And this I sorely needed, as you may imagine,
after having been passed from hand to hand
all through the warm day.
Miss Hetherington had two little sisters,
Nellie and Ethel, both nearly of an age, for
Nellie had seen ten summers, and her sister
Ethel eight. If there was one thing which
pleased these children above every thing else,
it was the sight of pretty flowers; and their
I Find New Friends. 25
papa, being a rich man, used to bring home
handsome bouquets, which had been given to
him, or which he had purchased in the city.
This I found out was the reason why in
almost every room there were bunches of
roses and other flowers.
There was a governess too, such a dear
true friend she was to her pupils. They loved
her almost as much as their own sister. She
was not only kind, but wise, teaching them to
obey their parents, and willingly give up their
own wishes for the good of others. They had
told Miss Parker about the new rose that had
come to the house that evening.
"I suppose there are some poor children
who do not often see such pretty flowers, are
there not, Miss Parker ?"
"Yes, Ethel dear, so poor and so wretched.
Fancy never seeing a green field, or the shady
trees and hills, except perhaps once a year at
a school treat."
The children were silent for a few moments,
when presently Nellie looked up from caress-
ing the head of her favourite retriever, Glossy.
23 The Story of a Yellow Rose
"Miipht we take some of our roses to those
poor children, Miss Parker ? I cannot bear to
think that we have so many of them, and yet
others, who deserve them quite as much as
we do, scarcely ever see a flower."
"We will see, dears, what can be done. I
should be very glad indeed if your sister will
allow you both to come with us to-morrow
morning to the Banner Lane Ragged School,
where there is to be a free breakfast given to
a crowd of poor children."
"Oh, thank you so much, we shall enjoy it;
and to see them all with their coffee and
bread and butter so happy. Won't it be nice,
Before they were asleep, it was all arranged;
and under a strict promise that the news
should not keep them awake, they were told
that in the morning, the expedition to
Banner Lane was to be made, and they might
Such happy expectation filled their minds
that night, looking round from their com-
fortable little cots with their snowy coverlets,
I Find New Friends. 27
and glancing at the doll's house in the corner,
and the text, "Little children, love one an
other," ii silver-gilt letters on a blue ground,
hung up on the wall. Then they thought of
all the blessings God had given them; and
these little girls who had been early taught to
love their Saviour, whispered to Him a little
prayer that the children might enjoy their
breakfast in the morning, and that the flowers
which they would take might please them
ever so much, and then fell asleep.
We were a merry party, as with baskets of
pretty flowers, and bright faces shining with
expectation, we sallied forth to seek the
dismal region of Banner Lane next morning.
I say "we," because my young lady did not
forget to make me one of the company, pinned
in the brooch at her neck, and glad I was to
be in the fresh air again.
It was rather a long walk after we had
alighted from the omnibus, and inquired of a
policeman the nearest way. I thought there
was a look of surprise on his face as he added,
"You'll excuse me, but Banner Lane isn't a
28 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
very nice place for young ladies like you to
But our errand explained, he smiled good-
humouredly, saying, "God bless you," as we
The lane when reached proved to be a
narrow turning off one of the poorer streets,
and a knot of lazy ill-clad people were leaning
against the corner where the public-house
stood, talking together, and sometimes quar-
relling, with high words. Looking down the
dirty thoroughfare was rather difficult, as
lines stretched from window to window on
either side, with the freshly-washed, but not
very white clothes hanging to dry thereon.
The air felt very close this summer morning
as we made our way along, and I soon began
to feel faint, and my leaves to droop in such
A crowd of children thronged the farther
end of the lane, without caps or bonnets, boots
or stockings, hair rough and untidy, and
clothes, such as they were, all tattered and
torn. It required some patience, and not a
I Find New Friends. 29
little squeezing to get through to the door of
the school-room; the young folks, who had
mistaken the visitors for some of the ladies
who came on Sunday, calling out, Teacher!
teacher! Make room for teacher! "
"I say, Bill, ain't she got some lovely
Yes, them's nice in the barsket, but I likes
the rose as is pinned in the leddy's brooch,
it is such a jolly fine one "
Now, children," said a kind voice from
the doorway, wait a bit, and keep as quiet as
you can, and we will let you in the minute
breakfast is ready."
"Thank ye, sir," shouted a hundred voices,
and the visitors passed into the room. They
had just time to get a seat at the top end,
when the signal was given outside, and the
boys and girls rushed in, and took their places
without delay at the long tables, whispering
to each other in admiration of the piled up
plates of bread and butter, and the pieces of
cake in store for them. Grace said, the attack
began, and Nellie and her sister Ethel were
30 The Story of a Yellow Rose
quite startled at the haste and earnestness of
the hungry little ones.
The wise, tender-hearted superintendent
kept the faces of his guests in a constant
smile, so that the meal was as happy as it
was welcome; and then, when all had eaten
enough, a kind lady sat at the harmonium,
and sang a sweet hymn:-
When He cometh, when He comet,
To make up His jewels,
All His jewels, precious jewels,
His loved and His own.
Like the stars of the morning
His bright crown adorning,
They shall shine in their beauty,
Bright gems for His crown.
He will gather, He will gather,
The gems for His kingdom,
All the pure ones, all the bright ones,
His loved and His own."
Then the singer called upon her audience
to join ip the chorus; and with a hearty swing
the brave little voices, specially fortified by
the hot coffee and eatables, but proceeding
often from very pale thin faces, filled the room
with a melody to which surely the angels
I Find New Friends. 31
Again all was quiet, and the sweet voice
once more was heard:-
Little children, little children,
Who love their Redeemer,
Are His jewels, precious jewels,
His loved and His own."
As the strain was taken up again by the
little ones, Nellie and Ethel found their eyes
misty with tears.
And now the superintendent had a word to
say, just to tell them how much Jesus loved
them, how He was their Good Shepherd; and
if they would give themselves into His kind
care, He would surely gather them into His
arms, and take them at last to His blessed
fold in peace.
As they passed out each little hand received
something, a bun, an orange, or a flower: the
girls, of course, preferring the latter, so that it
was well that several ladies beside our own
little party came supplied with roses and
All this so interested me that I hardly
noticed the brooch pin was gradually loosing
32 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
its hold upon me, and just as we were turning
the corner of Banner Lane, on our homeward
way, I fell on the pavement, all unnoticed,
however, by my fair owner, who would no
doubt grieve over her loss when she got home,
for she evidently set great store by me for the
But I was not to lie long upon the stones.
A ragged little lad ran across and picked me
up, and hurried away with his prize, looking
furtively over his shoulder, lest any of his
companions in the lane should dispute his
possession of me.
The tadu with the White Lace Cap.
IVERTON SQUARE is a quiet spot,
for, with the exception of a cab
or two, and a few foot passengers
who cross its pavements, there
is little to disturb its stillness,
with its grassy gardens and tall
The clock in the church-tower at the corner
was just striking one as an elderly lady slowly
made her way towards a house at the farther
end, when the boy, of whom we took leave
in the previous chapter, quite out of breath
stepped up to her side and begged her to
purchase me, being also in a very faint and
weary condition, hardly able to support my
head, for my stalk had for the last half-hour
been tightly held by the boy's fingers, dirty
34 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
"But where did you get it, my boy? 1
hope it is not a little stolen flower."
"Indeed, mum, it ain't. I sees it lying on
the pavement, and I runs away, 'cos I wanted
to find somebody as would gi'e me a penny
for it, for I'm werry 'ungry, I am."
"Well, here's a penny, my dear; but wait a
minute, perhaps I can find you something
else. Can you read?"
"Not werry well, mum. Just littleish words,
and when they is printed big."
"Have you ever heard about Jesus ?"
"Oh yes, mum; there's a leddy as comes
every Sunday night and talks to us, and tells
me as He cares for me, which I'm pretty sure
nobody else does."
Well, my boy, never mind what other
people think of you, so long as you know that
the Lord is pleased with you, for to be His
friend, His boy, trying to please and serve
Him, is better than all the world besides."
"That's right enough, mum, and I can
tell ye I have my good thoughts when I'm
in school; but bless you, when I gets into
The Lady with the White Lace Cap. 35
the streets again, they all blows away some-
"Ah, my dear lad, it won't do to think about
Christ in one place, and forget Him in another;
to be sorry for our sins to-day, and commit
the same to-morrow; but, however, read this
little paper-it is easy spelling, and has nice
pictures; and if ever you want to speak to
me again about it, come to No. 43 over there,
and ask for Mrs. Gordon."
The lad thanked her, and went his way,
looking at the picture on the front of the
paper, and wondering at the same time what
he should do with the penny, which he kept
taking out of his pocket, to make sure that it
was safe and sound.
Meanwhile the old lady, carefully smoothing
out my ruffled and crumpled leaves, reached
her door, and without delay put me in a glass
of water, for which, indeed, I had been thirsting
all day. I hardly thought that I could ever
revive again, after such trying experiences,
and I fancy my new owner was of the same
opinion, and looked delighted to find my
36 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
petals lifting themselves again, although the
outside ones were weak past recovery.
And now, as she sat knitting at the table in
the lamplight, I was able to take a good look
at the old lady, with whom I began to think
I was to spend the last few hours of my life
She was getting into years. Not far short
of seventy, I should say; but in her cheeks,
though furrowed with age, there was the tint
of good health. But it was quite clear that
advancing years had brought no gloom with
them, for over her features there rested a con-
stant smile. And yet I fancy she had seen
her troubles too, and sometimes I noticed she
would stop before the portrait of a fine brown-
bearded man in naval costume, who was
evidently her son, and her lip would quiver,
as she whispered to herself with a sigh, "Never
shall I see his dear face again, but the Lord's
will be done."
I forgot to mention that she wore spectacles
and a white head dress, which set off her
face nicely; many, who did not know her
name, spoke of her always with affection and
The Lady with the White Lace Cap. 37
gratitude, as "the kind lady with the white
This house, which for a short time was to
be my home, was very large, although beside
her servants Mrs. Gordon lived in it alone.
Perhaps next to its mistress the most important
person, at any rate in his own eyes, within its
walls was Joey, a small sturdy boy in buttons,
whose business it was to attend the door, and
run hither and thither on errands for his
mistress, to whom he was much attached.
I saw his eye twinkle when the lady came
in holding me in her hand, and a broad smile
spread over his honest countenance when she
pleasantly promised that he should perhaps
be my owner one day.
Before the evening had far advanced the
lady looked up from her work at a knock at
the door of the dining-room, and Master Joey
delivered his message.
If you please, mum, there's a lot of ragged
young ladies awaiting in the hall as wants
to speak to you, mum, about the stitching
38 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
Tell them to come in, Joey. I am quite
The door closed again, but not before the
boy in buttons could be heard saying:
"Look here, young duchesses, my missus
says you may come in; but perhaps your lady-
ships wouldn't mind just rubbing your boots
on the mat before going in."
Then entered these girls, quite grown up
they were, and very poorly clad, as Joey
had intimated, and quietly took the seats
offered them by their kind hostess, Mrs.
Gordon. I began to wonder what was coming
next, when the lady produced a pile of calico
and patching pieces, setting them soon to work
thereon with needle and thread. While they
were thus employed I had a good opportunity
from my glass on the table of looking into the
faces of some of these young women. Here
were those who were pale and weary-looking,
there others who were careless, and evidently
working with little interest. But the watchful
eyes of Mrs. Gordon took careful note of all,
The Lady with the White Lace Cap. 39
While they were busy with their sewing,
'the lady in the white lace cap read to them
from the big Bible on the table, and talked
about being truthful and honest, and in all
their ways urging them to seek the pleasure
and approbation of the Lord.
"Now, girls, tell me who is your best friend?"
"Nay; there is One who loves you more
than I do or can, who will help you far beyond
my poor efforts."
After a pause of a few minutes, a pale girl
in rusty black in the corner timidly said:
Perhaps, ma'am, it's Jesus you mean."
"Quite right, my dear; and what has He
done for us ?"
"Died on the cross, ma'am."
"And why should He die ?"
Another pause, and then the old lady turned
to some of her favourite passages, and read
aloud, God so loved the world that He gave
His only begotten Son, that whosoever be-
lieveth in Him should not perish, but have
40 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
Surely He hath borne our griefs and carried
our sorrows, yet we did esteem Him stricken,
smitten of God and afflicted. But He was
wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised
for our iniquities, the chastisement of our
peace was upon Him, and with His stripes we
Because Christ also suffered for us, leaving
us an example that we should follow in His
steps; who did no sin, neither was guile found
in His mouth, who when He was reviled, reviled
not again, when He suffered He threatened
not, but committed Himself to Him that
"But if we walk in the light as He is in
the light, we have fellowship one with another,
and the blood of Jesus Christ, His Son,
cleanseth us from all sin."
Then, after many other texts and comforting
counsels, the lady walked across the room to
examine some work, which gave the pale-faced
girl in black a chance of whispering one earn-
est question: "Please, ma'am, do you think
that Jesus really cares anything for poor me ?"
The Lady with the White Lace Cap. 41
"Why should you doubt it, dear ?"
"Because nobody ever does. The women
in the court say I ought never to have been
born; and not a soul loves me, and now
mother's gone I am so unhappy and lonesome."
"Come, come, dear, don't cry; let me tell
you that the Lord knows all about it. Look
up to Him in faith; He is very near, and will
give you in His love and presence a joy which
will make up for all you suffer."
The girl, thus consoled, dried her tears, and
resumed her work; and shortly afterwards
Mrs. Gordon gave the signal to lay aside the
sewing, and kneel down, while she offered up
a very heartfelt prayer. I can just remember
a few sentences:-
"Bless these dear girls, O Lord, in Thy
mercy. Thou knowest all they have to bear,
their trials and temptations; and without Thy
grace and help, they will be wretched and
forlorn. But Thou canst make them good
useful women, bright lights shining in the
darkness of their poor homes, showing by
their patient well-doing that they belong to
42 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
Thee. Gracious Saviour, preserve them in
this present evil world, fill their hearts with
Thy love, protect them by Thine arm of
power; may they be humble, trusting only in
Thy blood for pardon, only to Thy Spirit to
do their duty, until in Thine own good time
they are called from earth to heaven."
There were tears upon the face of Mrs.
Gordon as she rose from her knees; and many
of her poor visitors were not less moved by
her earnest pleadings with God on their
In a few moments more Joey again appeared
with a tray of cups of steaming coffee and
biscuits; and this repast being over, the girls
wished their kind hostess good-night, and
went away, evidently very pleased, and making
good resolutions for the future.
Next morning, in accordance with her
promise, Mrs. Gordon gave me into the care
of the sprightly Joey, who was mightily
pleased with his new possession, and fastened
me through the button hole of his coat in
place of one of those bright little brass knobs,
The Lady with the White Lace Cap. 43
which spread in a shining row from his chin
downwards. I am afraid, however, that my
beauty had nearly gone. Two of my large
leaves were left upon the table-cloth in the
dining-room, and my stalk was limp. But
Joey did not mind this, neither cared he for
the giggling of the other servants; indeed, as
he told them with a chuckle, He felt that
jolly, that he would like to turn head over
heels just once in the hall, only he was afraid
his precious rose might tumble out."
It so happened that his mistress required
some books exchanged at the library a short
distance away; and on this errand Joey
started, with me well displayed as aforesaid.
What occurred to him and to me we shall see
I Lodge for a Time in a Cellar
HISTLING as he went on his way,
and every now and then bend-
S ing down his head to take a
Sniff at my fast-fading perfume,
SJoey trudged along until his
Attention was drawn to a very
poorly-clad little girl with a white thin face,
sitting on a doorstep. Just as he was
passing, he caught the long earnest glance
of wistful desire with which she looked upon
me, hanging mid the bright row of brass
And this made Joey feel not a little un-
comfortable in his mind, as to whether he
ought not to give me to the poor child, to
whom I should evidently be a still greater
I Lodge for a Time with Patsy. 45
treasure. Of course selfishness had a word to
whisper in his ear, reminding him how fair
my colour was, how nicely he could smell my
fragrance, that his mistress had so kindly
given me to him, and of course there was no
reason why he should part with a prize so
valuable to a strange girl in the street.
Then, however, better thoughts came to the
rescue, reminding him how it was said of
Jesus, that He pleased not Himself," how He
taught us to love one another, and that any
kindness done for His dear sake, if only the
giving of a cup of cold water to a thirsty soul
would not be forgotten before God. These
musings gradually slackened Joey's pace, and
finally he stopped to look in a shop window,
not that he knew quite what was there to see,
for his thoughts were otherwise engaged, and
his eyes would wander back to the little girl
still sitting on the doorstep up the street, and
looking after him.
Another glance at me, a little prayer, Lord,
help Joey to be kind and unselfish," and he
was hurrying back again, and hastily taking
46 The Sto-y of a Yellow Rose.
me from his button-hole, he put me in the
girl's hand, never waiting for her thanks, but
just catching sight of the flush of happiness
which spread over her thin cheeks, and the
bright light which all at once leaped into
her eyes. I saw all this too, and felt a few
minutes afterwards her warm kisses upon my
leaves, and heard her in a low voice admiring
me with a thankful heart.
Very different in dress and surroundings
was my new little owner, compared with the
ladies who had recently held me, but no one
hitherto had been half so glad to see me as
this poor weary child. Carrying me with
her fingers as a precious treasure, half-hidden
in the corner of her ragged shawl, as almost
too good to be exposed to view, lest the rough
lads and girls in the street should take me
from her, Patsy hurried homewards, if indeed
the poor cellar where she lived may be called
by that sweet name.
It was a long tiring walk for the little lass,
who had not tasted food since the morning;
and it was not until she had left all the fine
1 Lodge for a Time with Patsy. 47
squares and handsome houses far behind, and
was threading her way along a narrow dirty
street that Patsy drew near to her journey's
end. She paused for a moment, for two or
three fierce-looking women were standing,
raggedly dressed, talking to each other at the
entrance to the court where she lived. At
length summoning up all her courage she
"Hallo, young gal! What hev yer got
there? Come, out with it!"
"Oh, please, it isn't anything that you
want. Let me go past, Mrs. Monks."
"Hoity-toity, child, we know better nor
that-it must be something good or yer
wouldn't take sich care of it. Now yer'd
better give it up, or it will be the worse for
With all her agility and courage, poor
Patsy could not escape. A strong hand
grasped her shoulder, but fortunately she had
taken the precaution to slip me into the
bosom of her dress, and great was the anger
of the woman to see the girl empty-handed.
48 The Story of u Yellow Rose.
Even then perhaps she might have escaped,
had not my stalk and a green leaf caught
the sharp eyes of Mrs. Monks, who instantly
made a grasp at them.
"Oh, that's it, yer little wench. What do
you want with fine roses ? Leave 'em to yer
betters as has got dresses to stick 'em in.
Anyhow I'm going to hev that!"
But she was too eager, and my weak stalk
gave way, to the merriment of the other
women, who, rough as they were, would not
let the little girl be troubled again; so breath-
less and in tears, Patsy in a few minutes
found herself in her cold dark room.'
No fire was in the grate, and all the furni-
ture consisted of a broken orange box, and in
the corner a heap of straw and rags, which
was the bed of the motherless child. On them
she now flung herself down with just strength
enough to draw me tenderly from my hiding-
Still grasping her treasure, with a smile
upon her face, Patsy wearily fell asleep.
The sun had set; in country lanes and
I Lodge for a Time with Patsy. 49
across green meadows the golden rays filled
the buttercups, and shone on the face of the
rippling brook, over the tops of the high trees
the sky was beautiful with flecks of ruddy
clouds, and the birds were sweetly singing
their evening hymn. But in the dense stifling
air of Gregory Court no ray of glory entered,
quarrelling voices and the cries of children
were the only sounds heard, and down in the
dark cellar little Patsy lay, breathing very
softly and her hand gradually relaxing its
hold on me.
Where was her father to-night ?
Alas! this was a drunkard's cellar, and
Patsy was a drunkard's child. He was now,
where indeed any night he might be found,
in the public house at the corner of the street,
spending in drink the few shillings which
might have gone to support and comfort his
And as usual, the landlord was putting up
his shutters, and the lights of the flaring gas
lamps were beginning to disappear one by
one before Bill Naylor turned homewards.
50 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
At tins very moment Patsy woke, a little
refreshed by sleep but too weak to rise; and
although she could not see me in the gloom,
she held me to her face, and grew happy as
she drew my faintly-scented breath. She lay
thinking about what her teacher had told her
on the Sunday before, and recalled the words
of a hymn they sang at the opening of the
Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood,
Stand dressed in living green;
So to the Jews old Canaan stood,
While Jordan rolled between."
And it seemed to her, as her mind wan-
dered in a half dream, that this dark cellar,
the wretched court, this half-starved miserable
life she led, were the dismal Jordan which
swept between her and the Promised Land
where mother was, and the flowers and the
fields which never fade. Some day she
earnestly hoped it would come to her turn to
cross the stream; she did not fear it, death
was nothing to Patsy, except the beginning
again of a brighter day, and an end for ever
of coldness, hunger, and pain.
I Lodge for a Time with Patsy. 51
But just then the thought of her father
came across her mind. She loved him; rough
as he was, he was her father still, the only one
in the wide world, except teacher, who cared
whether she lived or died. And now in a
weak voice, with her hands clasped among the
damp straw, little Patsy prayed her heartfelt
prayer on his behalf. I was close to her lips
all the while and heard every word:-
0 Lord Jesus, I'm so cold and hungry, but
I will try to be patient and not cry out, only
the pains hurts so, Lord. Father's out agen
at the Green Dragon, but please, Lord Jesus,
do bring him safe home, and don't let him
fall down and hurt himself like he did last
week. Lord, Lord! I'm only a poor child,
but you are so grand and good and strong.
0 please, do help me, and 0 it's father as
wants you; tell him how bad it is to go on
like this. Please don't be cross with him, or
punish him for what he does to me. I can
bear it, like poor dear mother did; but he
works ever so hard, Lord Jesus, and some day
he'll be such a kind good father to Patsy.
52 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
But help him, dear Lord, to do what's right.
Dear Saviour, please let me come soon up to
heaven, it's so cold and dark down here; and
I want to be with mother again ever so; but
if I can help poor father to be good I'll stay a
bit. Lord, bless the boy that gave me this
lovely rose (here she stopped to kiss me,
and I felt a tear-drop roll from her cheek on
to my leaves), and may he go to heaven when
he dies, and I will thank him there. Jesus
This prayer was slowly uttered, with inter-
vals between the sentences, and so absorbed
was Patsy with her talk with the Lord, that
she never heard her father's footsteps coming
down the steps. He had not drank so much
as usual, and knew quite well what he was
about; and when he heard Patsy speaking he
thought somebody was with her, and sat down
outside the door on the stair to listen. And
as he sat the hand of the Lord unloosed the
long-closed door of Bill's heart, and answered
He was deeply touched with the words of
I Lodge for a Time with Patsy. 53
her petition. It seemed like a voice from
heaven calling him to turn his face towards
God, and repent of his sins. He thought of
all his neglect of his child; of the money
which might have provided her with comforts,
but which had gone into the pockets of the
landlord of the Green Dragon; of all her
sufferings through his wrong-doings. And
here this good angel of his was asking the
Lord to be kind and merciful to him, and the
big tears rolled down his face as he listened.
When she stopped speaking, he stole softly
into the room, and kneeling in the dark by
his child's side, he took her hand and whis-
pered in a broken voice," Patsy darling, Patsy,
forgive your bad father, and he, please God,
will be more kind to you."
She drew his face down towards her, and
kissed him long and fervently, murmuring
words of love in his ear, and telling him not
to cry, and how the Lord Jesus would help
him, she was sure, and he was going to be
such a dear good father now. Poor Bill was
quite overcome and broken down, and in the
54 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
deep shadow of that wretched cellar, still
holding his child's thin hand, he poured out
his heart to the Lord for mercy, and praying
that henceforth he might be a true and faithful
disciple, and more loving to Patsy, whose
feeble words had led him to the Saviour.
No light filled that room like the bright
flash which arrested Saul on his way to
Damascus; but Bill's soul was flooded with
sunshine, having like him seen the Lord and
given himself freely and fully to Him who
for his sake gave Himself.
He had covered Patsy, who lay quiet and still,
with his coat; and as dawn began to glimmer
through the little window, he stole softly out
and sought eagerly for a coffee-stall where
he might buy something to refresh her.
In a short time he returned rejoicing with
success, and felt happier than he had been for
many a long day as he saw Patsy's enjoyment
of the warm coffee and the thick slices of
bread and butter; and on the old orange box
which served as a table she carefully placed
me. That was a joyous feast which the father
I Lodge for a Time with Patsy. 55
and (laughter had together, and doubtless
it was the beginning of brighter times for
them both. I often wondered whether
Patsy tried to grow strong again and well,
and if they left the court and found a better
About this, however, I never knew, for that
day I changed hands again.
"Father," said little Patsy, looking up with
the saucer of steaming coffee in her hand,
"I feel so happy and thankful having you all
to myself, and this lovely coffee, and I've been
thinking how the lady at the school told us
that people in the Bible made offerings when
God had been very good to 'em."
"Yes, dear, that's true. Ah, well do I re-
member your poor mother, soon after we was
first married, how she always made a point of
putting a sixpence into the box outside of
Bartholomew's Hospital whenever we had a
bit extra to spare."
"But I've nothing to give, father, except my
precious rose, and I don't know how I could
really part with it."
56 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
Never you mind, dear, I'm sure you ought
to keep that."
Nay, father, it's just because I love it so,
and hardly know how I can spare it, that I
feel it's just the thing to give away for Jesus'
"But who would you give it to ?"
"Well, I should like it to go to our good
old friend, Mr. Silas Huggins, who lives at the
almshouses, you know."
"Aye, lass, I remember; and if you feel
that you must do it, why of course I'll just
run round in my dinner-hour."
To fulfil his promise Bill soon made ready
to go ; and Patsy, after giving me many kisses
and a last fond look, wrapped me carefully in
a piece of newspaper, and I left the cellar for
I End my bays, folded in more
--, ILKINGTON'S ALMSHOUSES are
known to everybody, at any
S rate everybody who has tra-
veiled beyond the outskirts of
the big city, and visited that
Quiet little spot called Blossom
S Green. And yet like many
other good things, this rest wants looking for,
and does not force itself upon the attention
of the passer-by. A row of big trees lines the
highway just there, behind which the alms-
houses hide themselves, a little distance back
from the road. Certain it is that while the
church spire may be seen a mile off, and the
sign of the Blue Boar swings in the wind right
over the brow of the hill, this little group of
old-fashioned dwellings comes quite as a sur-
58 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
prise to the pedestrian, who is constrained to
stand a moment before the low iron railings
Amongst the flower-beds so neatly kept,
and radiant with geraniums, is a stone figure
of the late Mr. Jeremiah Pilkington in a bob
wig, and underneath on the slab of the pedestal
we read how two hundred years ago, he built
these homes to the glory of God, and the
memory of his dear wife Dorothy.
Comfortable seats placed in sunny spots and
shady corners, a bird-cage, with a cheery lark
within, hanging outside one of the little win-
dows, everything so still save the hum of the
bees in the honeysuckle, and no one to be
seen, for at this particular time the old gentle-
men were having their mid-day nap, except
one, and that was old Silas Huggins, who lived
in the house nearest the road, and who was
just pouring a little water out of an old jug,
upon the fuchsia on the window-sill, when he
heard the gate click, and caught sight of Bill
all breathless walking up the gravel path.
"Don't yer bother to come to the door Silas,
Where I End my Days. 59
I ain't coming in; but my little lass, God bless
her, has sent this bit of a parcel for yer."
"Thank ye very much indeed, Bill, and give
the dearie a kiss for me, will ye ? "
"Aye, that I will, I love her so; but I shall
be late back to work, so good-bye."
"Good-bye, and I be right glad to see ye."
Bill stepped back .again to whisper in the
old man's ear.
I've got a bit of news for ye, Silas."
"What's that, lad?"
"Why, I've turned over a new leaf, and
please God am going to live straight now."
The old man's eyes sparkled, and his thin
worn hand was stretched out of the window
to grasp warmly that of his friend.
May the good Lord bless and keep ye,
And with that word Bill was off, making
all haste to the new buildings a mile away,
where as a bricklayer he worked at his trade.
Old Silas slowly took his place in the big
arm-chair by the table, and carefully unwrap-
60 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
ping with his shaky hand the paper package,
soon beheld me, and a smile came over his
furrowed features as he spoke.
"Bless the little lassie, I daresay she was
fine and fond of this bit rose. I shall treasure
it dearly for the child's sake."
Where should he place me ? It was clearly
too late for me to be revived by being put in
a glass of water; my stalk you will remember
had been left in the hands of rough Mrs.
Monks, my green leaves had all long since
departed, and a few only of my yellow petals
were left behind.
"Ay, I think that will be best-there's no
fear of my losing 'em then."
Reaching his big Bible from the shelf in
the corner, old Silas sat down again to carry
out his resolve, carefully picking me to pieces.
"Now I'll put 'em just agen some of my
best and most precious texts. It would
please the dearie if she knew, and I shall be
sure to see 'em often then."
After my wanderings, and the many ups
and downs of my little life, I was not sorry to
Where I End my Days. 61
reach at last such a resting-place. It only
remains for me to tell you some of the sweet
words against which my leaves were pressed.
The book was not new, and many of the
pages were well-worn with constant reading;
and it did not take its owner long to find a
favourite Psalmwhichhad often been a comfort
to him in the days gone by. Holding one
of my leaves between his finger and thumb
he read aloud the precious words:-
I love the Lord because He hath heard
my voice and my supplications. Because He
hath inclined His ear unto me, therefore will
I call upon Him as long as I live."
Turning over the latter portion of the
volume, old Silas found a chapter in which
the Lord Jesus is telling His disciples of His
great love and care for them, so that there is
no need for them to have troubled hearts
and anxious minds. The words next me
"Consider the lilies of the field, how they
grow; they toil not, they spin not, and yet I
say unto you that Solomon in all his glory
62 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
was not arrayed like one of these. If then
God so clothe the grass, which is to-day in
the field, and to-morrow is cast into the
oven,-how much more will He clothe you, O
ye of little faith ?"
Back again the old man turned the leaves,
and another promise met me, one that was
marked by the pen of Silas, at a time no
doubt when he had proved how true and
precious the promise was.
"For the mountains shall depart, and the
hills be removed, but My kindness shall not
depart from thee, neither shall the covenant
of My peace be removed, saith the Lord, that
hath mercy on thee."
Another of my leaves, however, must find a
place in the Psalms,-the first verse of the
prayer of Moses, the man of God. Very
solemn and beautiful the sentences sounded
as Silas, through his spectacles, reverently
"Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling-place
in all generations. Before the mountains
were brought forth, or ever Thou hadst
Where I End my Days. 63
formed the earth and the world, even from
everlasting to everlasting Thou art God."
Silas laid down his glasses and sat deep in
thought: these words were filling his mind
with many memories of long long ago, and
his eyes grew dim and wet with tears, as he
recalled one who had been taken from his
side to heaven these many years. Her
portrait hung up over the mantel-piece; and
on the wall near the clock in a black frame was
an old faded sampler, which she had worked
when but a girl, containing the Lord's Prayer
and the Commandments, and then the words
interspersed with little Dutch trees and daisies,
SPersevere, ye perfect men,
Ever keep these precepts ten."
And on the table, neatly covered with a red
cloth was another memento of his wife-an
old hymn-book with a piece of ribbon between
"I think," said Silas, wiping his eyes with
his old red silk pocket-handkerchief, "I think
I ought to put one of the rose-leaves in the
64 The Story of a Yellow Rose.
hymn-book as well. Let me see, perhaps
this one will do, she was mighty fond of it,
He found the place, and choosing one of
the fairest of my leaves laid it on the words:
My God, the spring of all my joys,
The life of my delights,
The glory of my brightest days,
And comfort of my nights.
In darkest shades if Thou appear
My dawning is begun,
Thou art my soul's bright morning star,
And Thou my rising sun."
With these words I bid my gentle readers
good-bye, and gladly with such a hymn of
praise to the good Lord who created me and
has let me be of some little service in the
world; and most thankful am I that my
petals, embalmed in the leaves of His holy
Word, rest on such beautiful messages of
faithfulness and love from Him who is the
" Rose of Sharon," and the "Lily of the
LONDON: KNIGHT, PRINTER, MIDDLE STREET, KC.