his that you lost no time, but went in, at once, and began to plant
the seeds in your little plot, close by the gate--you know it would
be a tiny little plot at first, because you are small and weak; and
soon your flowers were to grow up and bloom, so tall, and so
beautiful, and your trees hang heavy with such delightful fruit that
every one passing by would exclaim,

"'Oh, what a beautiful garden! Are these flowers and fruit trees
yours?'

"Would you not say--

"Oh, no! they are not mine; they are all my father's. This is his
beautiful garden, but he said if I were willing I might stay here
always, and I have come to live with him because he is good. Nothing
at all here belongs to me, though my father likes me to give away
the fruits and flowers that grow in my plot to all who ask for them.
I am a great deal happier, all the time, when I think that even the
wild flowers in this grass, and the small berries, and the little
birds that eat them, belong to him, than I could be if they were
mine, and I had no one to love for them.'

"Should you not feel, dearest, as though you were telling a wicked
story, and almost as though you were stealing something, if you
said, 'Yes, they are all mine,' so that the people would not even
know you had a father?"

"Oh, yes! that would be very naughty indeed. I would give the people
some of the fruit and flowers, and say they grew on my father's
trees, and then they would love him too; but tell me more about the
garden."

"I will tell you all I think you can understand, and you must be
attentive, for I want you to remember it all your life. Did you ever
hear of the Garden of Eden?"

"Yes; that is where Adam and Eve lived."

"Well, that's the beautiful garden I've been telling you about, and
God is your good father. You can begin your journey there this very
day if you like."

"Is it a very long journey?--and will you go with me? Is there
really, _really_ such a garden? Oh, tell me where it is!"

"I desire nothing in the world so much as to lead you there, but the
path is rough and steep; I cannot carry you in my arms along that
road; you must walk on your own little feet, and I am afraid they
will sometimes get--very tired."

"You know, mother, I never do get tired when I am going to a
pleasant place; but, oh, dear! I do believe now it is all a
dream-story; you smiled and kissed me just as if it were."

"No, you need not look so disappointed, little one, for though it is