She had traced the road by asking――she had learnt the way to go; She had found the famous meadow――it was wrapt in cruel snow; Not a buttercup or daisy, not a single verdant blade Showed its head above its prison. Then she knelt her down and prayed. With her eyes upcast to heaven, down she sank upon the ground, And she prayed to God to tell her where the roses might be found. Then the cold blast numbed her senses, and her sight grew strangely dim; And a sudden, awful tremor seemed to seize her every limb. “Oh, a rose!” she moaned, “good Jesus――just a rose to take to Bill!” And as she prayed a chariot came thundering down the hill; And a lady sat there, toying with a red rose, rare and sweet; As she passed she flung it from her, and it fell at Nelly’s feet. Just a word her lord had spoken caused her ladyship to fret, And the rose had been his present, so she flung it in a pet; But the poor, half-blinded Nelly, thought it fallen from the skies, And she murmured, “Thank you, Jesus!” as she clasped the dainty prize. * * * * * Lo that night from out the alley did a child’s soul pass away, From dirt and sin and misery to where God’s children play. Lo that night a wild, fierce snowstorm burst in fury o’er the land, And at morn they found Nell frozen, with the red rose in her hand. Billy’s dead, and gone to glory, so is Billy’s sister Nell; I’m bold to say this happened in the land where angels dwell:―― That the children met in heaven, after all their earthly woes, And that Nelly kissed her brother, and said, “Billy here’s your rose.” G. R. SIMS. BILLY’S NOSE. Listen to a _striking_ story. Billy and his sister Nell Were a pair of gutter youngsters, in an alley had to dwell (I am not a noted poet, but to tell you I shall try, Since it “comes with perfume laden”――as a moral――that is why.) Simple toys had made them happy through a sultry summer day (Two old boots and one dead kitten), then they quarrelled in their play, ’Mid the grime on Billy’s visage shone in streaks the angry red, And he seized a handy brickbat, which he threw at Nellie’s head. Little boys should love their sisters――here I might have had to paint How the pretty, hapless maiden suddenly grew pale and faint; How anon she drooped and faded, looking dove-like all the while, Rending Billy’s little bosom with the sweetness of her smile! But she didn’t. Nellie started――darted up each creaking stair Till she reached their dismal garret, for she knew a stick was there; This she held behind her slyly, meaning to avenge her woes, Sought the unsuspecting Billy, and she hit him on the nose.