106 VOICE OF FLOWERS. 



THE GARDEN AND THE 

 RAIN . 



ONE summer there had been a long drought, 

 made more painful by intense heat. Young 

 trees drooped ; many plants withered away ; 

 and the newly-mown grass crisped under the 

 feet as though it would never spring again. 



The master of a garden went forth at the sun 

 set to water it. He was grieved to see how 

 his nurslings suffered. The slight branches 

 of the fruit-bearing trees were brittle, and broke 

 at the touch ; and the juiceless berries, shrink 

 ing away, tried to hide behind their yellow 

 leaves. 



The cisterns had become low, and the shal 

 low brooklets were dry ; yet he gave water to 

 all his plants, as plentifully as he could. Still 

 they looked languidly at him, as if asking 

 &quot;Can you do nothing more to help us ?&quot; Some 

 were perishing at the root, for the earth to 

 which they clung was like powder and dust. 



