My life has been so tranquil, that I fear it will not possess much interest; for, when first recollection dawned, I remember finding myself far down in the earth—a small bulb, not much to look at, I am thinking. But very happy were the days spent there with my companions. We in our ignorance deemed the world a dreary place, and wished we could for ever stay where it was so cosy and warm; but our Mother Earth was carefully instructing us, teaching us the same precious lessons she unfolds to her other children, if they will but read the ever-open book, by man called 'Nature.'

I know not how long it was that the Frost King kept the land bound captive in icy chains, but at last the signal for freedom came. The trees awoke from their winter sleep, and, casting off their sombre garments of sheathed leaves, came forth in vestments of tender green; the bees, too, sent out their pioneers, who hastened back to the hives with the glad tidings of the sunshine and of awakening flowers. The birds flew hither and thither on joyous wings, twittering their simple gratitude to Him who 'heareth the ravens cry;' for they indeed were thankful that the dark days were past, and that 'the time of the singing of birds had come.' As to the little brooks and streams, how rejoiced were they to be free once more! they bounded away over the sandy shallows or pebbly beds, laughing for very gladness, and kissing the green banks whose fresh verdure they laved, whilst murmuring to them their gladsome song:

And for us also came the appointed time, when we too had to leave the home in which we had been so tenderly nurtured; we were to go, ready prepared to do the work marked out for us.

But I did not wish to go; I feared to face a world unknown to me, and fain would have lingered in the home so loved.

'Why must I leave you?' I asked of our gentle parent. 'I cannot bear the separation.'

'My child,' she replied, with something of reproach in her soft voice, 'have you so soon forgotten the lesson I taught you, that He who created all things, createth nothing in vain? Go forth upon the earth, and speak in parables of His glorious works.'

'What can I teach?—I, so small, and of no repute!' I asked, still doubting.

'Some lesson of His goodness to the children of men,' was her reply.

'But everything on earth appears to have its appointed mission; there seems no work for me,' I urged in excuse.

'God will find something for even you to do,' she said; 'it may be only a message from Him.'

'A message!' I repeated. 'What could I say to others? Already have all the flowers their symbols: the Violet is the Hope flower, the Heart's-ease speaks of Thought; what can we Snowdrops tell?'

Our mother did not answer—she left us to find what lessons we best could teach.

So day by day we grew, stronger and stronger, gradually becoming better fitted to perform the work allotted; until at last I appeared above the ground—a slender green leaf!

Never shall I forget how cheerless looked the earth when first I came above it, so dull and black, save where a few snowflakes had been drifted by the wintry winds; all else was bleak and bare. There was not a gleam of sunshine athwart the leaden sky to cheer us, nor a bird to meet us with a friendly greeting, for even the robins kept so near the houses for warmth and shelter, they came not to the spot where we grew, alone and sad; and as to the trees, they as yet stood silent above us, only the Holly was still decked with gay scarlet berries, enlivening up the gloomy landscape with a little bright colour. But the Holly smiled not on us; armed at all points in his glossy coat of shining mail, he was so lofty and grand, and we were only—Snowdrops!

But I grew on, cherished by our great Mother Nature, who careth for all her children, and loves them tenderly, be they humble Daisies or the queenly Rose; and at last I became a perfect flower, taking my pure white tints from the snow around me, and borrowing just a faint tinge of green from the young grass that was now bravely struggling to appear.

By and by, a Blackbird, with golden beak and shining coat, found me out as he was seeking a convenient tree in which to make a nest, and, bowing politely, exclaimed,—

'Welcome to you, fair Snowdrop! I am rejoiced to see you, for you bring us the assurance that spring is on the way, and we shall be glad, for the winter has been long and dreary.'

Then he having communicated the glad tidings to the other birds, they also came to greet me, cheering my loneliness with their sweet songs. Yet still I pined to return to earth again; I cared not to look upward, but hung my head, murmuring sadly,—

'Oh, Mother Earth, take home thy child! she is so weary of her life here.'

Was I wrong? Perhaps so, but I owed my existence to that which mortals deem so cold and dark; I loved it with the affection of a loving child, and longed to rest again upon the dear bosom that had sheltered me when I was but a frail bulb.

Besides, it seemed to me that I was doing no good. Why was I sent here, if only to bloom and then die? I had been told that nothing was created in vain; was I doing the work for which I had been sent upon the earth?

Whilst thus repining over my useless life, a poet passed by chance—stay, was it chance? nay, there is no chance! He was one who as yet had met with but little success; I am told there are many such among earth's children. We know that it is said:

yet the sweetness is not lost, for it speaks with a perfumed voice to the creatures of the air; but among mortals, many fade away into utter oblivion, breathing only their sad, sweet heart-songs to the listening winds around.

And this poet of whom I speak, he felt within himself the inspiration of genius, that innate love of the beautiful and true which comes from God alone; but the world looked coldly on him, and he was struggling with what seemed endless disappointments, battling with them bravely, yet almost sinking amidst the strife. His very heart was beginning to fail him, his noble courage to give way, when he saw me there, blossoming alone in that quiet nook.

'Oh, God!' he cried, as, with clasped hands and eyes raised heavenward, he sank beside me on the sod,—'oh, God, forgive me that I should dare to doubt Thy loving care, when this fragile, fragile flower, sheltered by Thee, has braved the wintry storms, while the cold winds pass tenderly over its bowed head. A bruised reed Thou wilt not break; Thou carest for the lilies of the field,—why then should I fear when adversity assails me? Art Thou not still above, though heaven seems so far off, and oh, so cold and pitiless! I will have faith in Thy divine and fatherly love, and accept the lesson this sweet flower hath taught me.'

Yes, faith—faith in God, was the parable I was sent to teach, and I also have learned to know that, though the skies may be dark and the winds—oh, so cold! yet if we only wait, and trust Him, the sunshine will come at last, and the breath of heaven never visit us too roughly.