from the house, and close to the orchard and kitchen-garden,
there was another little garden, planted exclusively with flowers. The
day that Caroline was born her father planted a cherry tree in the
middle of the flower-garden. He had chosen a tree with a short trunk, in
order that his little daughter could more easily admire the blossoms
and pluck the cherries when they were ripe.

When the tree bloomed for the first time and was so covered with
blossoms that it looked like a single bunch of white flowers, the father
and mother came out one morning to enjoy the sight. Little Caroline was
in her mother's arms. The infant smiled, and, stretching out her little
hands for the blossoms, endeavored at the same time to speak her joy,
but in such a way as no one but a mother could understand:

"Flowers! flowers! Pretty! pretty!"

The child engaged more of the parents' thoughts than all the
cherry-blossoms and gardens and orchards, and all they were worth. They
resolved to educate her well; they prayed to God to bless their care and
attention by making Caroline worthy of him and the joy and consolation
of her parents. As soon as the little girl was old enough to understand,
her mother told her lovingly of that kind Father in heaven who makes the
flowers bloom and the trees bud and the cherries and apples grow ruddy
and ripe; she told her also of the blessed Son of God, once an infant
like herself, who died for all the world.

The cherry tree in the middle of the garden was given to Caroline for
her own, and it was a greater treasure to her than were all the flowers.
She watched and admired it every day, from the moment the first bud
appeared until the cherries were ripe. She grieved when she saw the
white blossoms turn yellow and drop to the earth, but her grief was
changed into joy when the cherries appeared, green at first and smaller
than peas, and then daily growing larger and larger, until the rich red
skin of the ripe cherry at last blushed among the interstices of the
green leaves.

"Thus it is," said her father; "youth and beauty fade like the blossoms,
but virtue is the fruit which we expect from the tree. This whole world
is, as it were, a large garden, in which God has appointed to every man
a place, that he may bring forth abundant and good fruit. As God sends
rain and sunshine on the trees, so does he send down grace on men to
make them grow in virtue, if they will but do their part."

In the course of time