As the little flower-spirit gazed entranced upon this glorious scene, a tear drop seemed to sparkle in the angel’s eye. In mute surprise it left its mossy couch and lit upon a drooping floweret grasped within the sleeper’s tiny hand, and as it gazed to where the angel’s eyes seemed bent, there lay exposed to view that infant’s fluttering heart, pure and white as fresh fallen snow-flakes; and there, too, glistened the angel’s tear. And then was borne on zephyr’s wings, a sweet and sorrowful supplication to the Majesty enthroned on high, “Oh, Father! give to me the power to banish from this little heart those dark and dreary shadows that are hovering near: that I may bring it thee when life shall cease, all pure and beautiful as now it is, a trophy worthy the redeeming love of thy dear Son.” And a voice, like the murmuring of many waters as they rush through the caverns of the deep, replied: “My laws are fixed, immutable—man was made for glory, pure and holy—the breath which animates his clay is breath of Deity—it gave the power of a God, the power to _choose_ between the good and ill. Those dark forms you so dread, are the effects of laws transgressed; for it is written in my sacred word—‘the father’s sins are visited upon the child.’” “But, oh!” still pleaded the angel-voice, “this babe is sinless, stainless, pure as those sweet flowers that wave upon the banks of Paradise.” “He’s born of flesh, and like the Holy One of God, he’s heir to its temptations; but _Calvary_ is on earth, and one _free_, ardent sigh, heaved by that heart, and borne upon thy wings to Calvary’s height, can have the potency to banish far _all_ the contending powers of ill.” The angel’s head bent low in silent adoration. * * * * * Four years had passed. ’Twas in the month of May. The earth was clothed in emerald-robe of varied hue, begemmed with sparkling flowers. The blushing trees poured forth their spicy fragrance on the hazy atmosphere, till it seemed heavy with their odorous breath. The social hum of a thousand insects—the carol of the feathery songsters, warbling forth their richest strains from the topmost boughs, rousing the wood-nymphs from their mossy beds to mingle their wild music with the laughing brooks that gurgle at the shaggy mountain’s base—all, all shone forth with the unrivaled splendor of the primal moon, when Nature first, awaked by God’s command, burst forth from chaos!