LMOST two thousand years ago the infant Jesus was laid to sleep in the manger of the inn at Bethlehem.
His bed was of fresh, sweet hay, among which were some fragments of a little plant which had grown all unnoticed among the grass.
In wonder the tiny weed listened to the song of the angels as they sang "the sweetest carol ever heard"; in wonder it saw the precious gifts offered by the wise men and heard the praises of the shepherds who had found their Saviour.
"There must be something I can do," whispered the little flower to itself, and presently the pretty pink blossoms opened and gently twined themselves into a crown around the baby head.
Some travelers standing near exclaimed "'Tis Holy Hay," and ever since the pretty blossoms have borne the name of "Saint-foin;" and ever as they reappear, year by year, in the fields and meadows they remind the little ones of that land that even they can do something "to please the King of Heaven."
THE SEARCH FOR GOLD