“No, my child.”
“Well, I told Him so, and He smiled on me.”
“You’ve been dreaming, Jotham,” said his mother, tenderly.
“Have I?” he asked; and it is no matter whether his vision was what we call “dreaming,” or not; he had dealt lovingly with the weak things of God, and was now receiving His approval, as “faithful over a few things.”
Before day dawned Jotham’s weak powers were expanding in the warmth of God’s love, and he is now, for aught we know, one of the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.
Many summers have brought birds and flowers since then; but if you should pass Willow Brook Farm to-day, you would see a wild-looking crop of grain growing rank and free in a three-cornered field, off to the east of the house. Perhaps you would also see an aged woman standing in the door-way, shading her eyes with her hand, as she looks off on this little memorial crop which she has caused to be planted every year, for the sake of him who planted it once “for Christ’s sake.”
BIRDS’-NEST SOUP.
BY ELLA RODMAN CHURCH.