In that still hour, on her knees, at the foot of the cross, Marcia with great gladness made her first “White Gift” unto her Lord—­she gave herself to Him.

[*] By permission of the author and the publisher, Pittsburgh Christian Advocate.

THE FIR TREE[*]

Adapted by J. H. Stickney

Far away in the forest, where the warm sun and the fresh air made a sweet resting place, grew a pretty little fir tree.  The situation was all that could be desired; and yet it was not happy, it wished so much to be like its tall companions, the pines and firs which grew around it.

The sun shone, and the soft air fluttered its leaves, and the little peasant children passed by, prattling merrily; but the fir tree did not heed them.

Sometimes the children would bring a large basket of raspberries or strawberries, wreathed in straws, and seat themselves near the fir tree, and say, “Is it not a pretty little tree?” which made it feel even more unhappy than before.

And yet all this while the tree grew a notch or joint taller every year; for by the number of joints in the stem of a fir tree we can discover its age.

Still, as it grew, it complained:  “Oh! how I wish I were as tall as the other trees; then I would spread out my branches on every side, and my crown would overlook the wide world around.  I should have the birds building their nests on my boughs, and when the wind blew, I should bow with stately dignity, like my tall companions.”

So discontented was the tree, that it took no pleasure in the warm sunshine, the birds, or the rosy clouds that floated over it morning and evening.

Sometimes in winter, when the snow lay white and glittering on the ground, there was a little hare that would come springing along, and jump right over the little tree’s head; then how mortified it would feel.

Two winters passed; and when the third arrived, the tree had grown so tall that the hare was obliged to run round it.  Yet it remained unsatisfied, and would exclaim, “Oh! to grow, to grow; if I could but keep on growing tall and old!  There is nothing else worth caring for in the world.”

In the autumn the woodcutters came, as usual, and cut down several of the tallest trees; and the young fir, which was now grown to its full height, shuddered as the noble trees fell to the earth with a crash.

After the branches were lopped off, the trunks looked so slender and bare that they could scarcely be recognized.  Then they were placed, one upon another, upon wagons, and drawn by horses out of the forest.  “Where could they be going?  What would become of them?” The young fir tree wished very much to know.

So in the spring, when the swallows and the storks came, it asked, “Do you know where those trees were taken?  Did you meet them?”

The swallows knew nothing; but the stork, after a little reflection, nodded his head, and said, “Yes, I think I do.  As I flew from Egypt, I saw several new ships, and they had fine masts that smelt like fir.  These must have been the trees; and I assure you they were stately; they sailed right gloriously!”