THE GLORY OF GOD IN FLOWERS.
He was a little old-fashioned boy, who had always lived in a dull, old New York street. A country cousin appeared, and he begged that he might go home with her. After infinite objections, consent was obtained. He was taken down to the country, with its cloud-flecked azure sky, its flower-laden earth, its bewildering beauty, which held him henceforth a willing captive. He was soon found seated by a bed of spice pinks, looking at them with an ecstasy of adoration. “Pick some,” said his cousin; “pick as many as you want.” “Pick them!” repeated the boy. “I’m afraid to. Aren’t they God’s?” This was the supreme moment of his life. They could not keep him in the city again. To-day he ranks high as an American artist, dating his birthday from the time he first saw the glory of God in flowers.—Lights and Shadows of New York Life.