“The gates, the gates of the beautiful garden.” And lifting his eyes he saw, now but a short way off, great gates of silvery trellis-work, through which he could already catch glimpses of stretches of exquisite lawns, and glorious trees, and smooth winding paths, bordered by plants and flowers of indescribable loveliness. He seemed to himself to give a bound of delight, for something told him that he and all his companions were coming there by invitation, and in another moment or two the crowd of children had reached the top of the hill and were standing in front of the gates. And then Jasper noticed another thing—each child was carrying a flower, or a plant—many, like himself, a cut-off branch or blossom only; some, and the faces of these had a different expression from that of the others, flowerpots filled with earth in which the plant was happily alive and growing. They were not all of equal size or beauty; several were very tiny, nothing but a few green leaves perhaps; some, what one would carelessly call “quite common” little things—a daisy root or a small nest of violets, of which only one timid head was as yet to be seen. But all these had roots, and were growing! Then glancing at the other children, who like himself carried only a single blossom, he saw an anxious look on their faces, and to his distress he perceived that these flowers were drooping and beginning to fade and wither, and he was just turning to examine his own, when he heard an eager cry—and looking up, he saw a figure coming down the garden and opening the gate at one side, not widely, but enough to let one child through at a time.
Jasper pressed forward—the new-comer was all dressed in white—the face was more beautiful than any face not seen in dreams.
“It’s an angel,” thought Jasper, and some words he had heard or read of came into his mind.
”‘The garden of Paradise,’ that must be it,” he thought dreamily.
And then he looked again and more anxiously, for he saw that by no means every child was allowed to enter—and of those who with saddened or disappointed faces turned back, every one was the bearer of a single blossom only, a poor, already-fading flower!
The angel’s face was grave as he slowly shook his head, when Jasper himself drew near.
“I cannot, my child, I cannot,” he said; “you must bring a different offering;” and Jasper, on the point of tears, replied—
“I didn’t know—I didn’t know. What shall I do?”
And the angel smiled and said—
“No, my darling, you did not know. But you can come again and bring a living plant. All have to learn. Many of those you now see entering did not know the first time they came. Take courage—your growing plant is ready for you.”