THE SNOWDROP—FAITH.

y life has been so tranquil, that I fear it will not possess much interest; for, when first recollection dawned, I remember finding myself far down in the earth—a small bulb, not much to look at, I am thinking. But very happy were the days spent there with my companions. We in our ignorance deemed the world a dreary place, and wished we could for ever stay where it was so cosy and warm; but our Mother Earth was carefully instructing us, teaching us the same precious lessons she unfolds to her other children, if they will but read the ever-open book, by man called 'Nature.'

I know not how long it was that the Frost King kept the land bound captive in icy chains, but at last the signal for freedom came. The trees awoke from their winter sleep, and, casting off their sombre garments of sheathed leaves, came forth in vestments of tender green; the bees, too, sent out their pioneers, who hastened back to the hives with the glad tidings of the sunshine and of awakening flowers. The birds flew hither and thither on joyous wings, twittering their simple gratitude to Him who 'heareth the ravens cry;' for they indeed were thankful that the dark days were past, and that 'the time of the singing of birds had come.' As to the little brooks and streams, how rejoiced were they to be free once more! they bounded away over the sandy shallows or pebbly beds, laughing for very gladness, and kissing the green banks whose fresh verdure they laved, whilst murmuring to them their gladsome song:

'I'm free! oh, joy! I am free once again!
I have burst with delight my icy chain,
And gaily I flow to the open sea,
Joyously singing, I'm free! oh, I'm free!
I kiss the green banks as I glide along,
I woo the birds with my peaceful song;
The sunbeams they dance to my joyous strain,
Whilst gaily I fling their rays back again.'

And for us also came the appointed time, when we too had to leave the home in which we had been so tenderly nurtured; we were to go, ready prepared to do the work marked out for us.

But I did not wish to go; I feared to face a world unknown to me, and fain would have lingered in the home so loved.

'Why must I leave you?' I asked of our gentle parent. 'I cannot bear the separation.'

'My child,' she replied, with something of reproach in her soft voice, 'have you so soon forgotten the lesson I taught you, that He who created all things, createth nothing in vain? Go forth upon the earth, and speak in parables of His glorious works.'

'What can I teach?—I, so small, and of no repute!' I asked, still doubting.