Parables from Flowers   By: Gertrude P. Dyer

[Illustration: PARABLES FROM FLOWERS.

Frontispiece. ]

PARABLES FROM FLOWERS.

BY GERTRUDE P. DYER, AUTHOR OF 'LITTLE POLLIE,' 'ARMOUR CLAD,' ETC. ETC.

Doth not thy heart throb with emotions of thankfulness to God for making the earth so fair, so redolent of beauty in its garniture of flowers, and for having scattered these silent teachers up and down the world?

EDINBURGH: W. P. NIMMO, HAY, & MITCHELL.

TO MY DEAR LITTLE FRIENDS, MABEL, ELSIE, AND RUBY TARR.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

I. THE FORGET ME NOT FIDELITY 7

II. THE SNOWDROP FAITH 22

III. THE FOXGLOVES' STRATAGEM GRATITUDE 30

IV. THE LITTLE MINER AND HIS FLOWER TRUST IN GOD 46

V. THE LITTLE SEED KINDNESS 68

VI. THE CROWN IMPERIAL HOPE 83

VII. THE TWO LEAVES DISCONTENT 89

VIII. THE AMBITIOUS WILD FLOWER AMBITION 99

IX. THE HONEYSUCKLE AND THE BUTTERFLY HUMILITY AND PRIDE 115

PARABLES FROM FLOWERS.

PARABLE FIRST.

THE FORGET ME NOT FIDELITY.

In the days of the long ago, my ancestors did not dwell as we do now in brooks or by the banks of shallow streams, but grew in wild luxuriance beneath the shade of overhanging trees, and under the wayside hedgerows.

We were always a quiet, unassuming race, and, indeed, I am fain to confess, were not held in more esteem by mortals than are our sweet cousins whom children call 'Bird's eyes.' But some one made known to the world that pathetic 'Legend of the Rhine,' in which we are described, then people began to perceive that we were pretty, lovely indeed, and to make a great fuss about us; but such is the way of the world!

Yet, though that legend is tenderly beautiful and thrilling, it is almost too romantic to please the taste of simple flowers, therefore I will tell you the true story how we acquired our name. That shall be my parable see what it will teach!

We grew there, unheeded and unsought, on soft mossy banks, not the less lovely because unknown, and just above our dwelling place a large oak spread abroad its leafy branches. It was a favourite tree of the birds, they felt so secure there, sheltered from prying eyes by its protecting leaves; besides, its branches were so firm and strong, they resisted bravely the fury of the storms that swept over them. What bird, then, would fear to build its nest there? And often have we listened to their sweet songs as they perched above us, and many times lifted our heads and gazed upon the happy inmates of those simple homes.

But there was one family among them that interested us even more than others, though all were dear to us. It was a pair of wrens who had by some strange accident taken up their abode in our oak, instead of a yew tree as they generally do; and not only my family, but the whole colony of birds, old inhabitants of the tree, many of them, felt great interest in the new comers, assisting them with advice, as they were but young.

Then, when building time came, how kind they all were! indeed, though it was a busy season with every bird, each anxious to finish its work, yet I heard an old Rook one day ask little Jenny Wren 'if he should help her,' as he met her trying to drag a large wisp of straw with all her tiny strength.

'No, thank you,' she gently replied; 'I must try to do it. We must all learn to bear our own burdens.'