TRE CRRISTMAS ROSE 
335 
One morningj as she again walked forth, she spied a 
rose of purest white. It was the sweet-brier; and when 
Eve approached, delighted with the blossom, the whole 
plant sent out from every leaf a sweet, delicate perfume. 
The pure white rose lifted its cup eagerly. 
Ah,” said Eve to the white sweet-brier rose, “you are 
beautiful. You are exquisitely sweet!” 
She drew the blossom down to her and kissed its white 
petals with her sweet red lips. So when the sweet-brier 
rose swung back to its place its petals were pale pink. 
They had drunk the colour from Eve's red lips. 
THE STORY OF A CHRISTMAS ROSE. 
The old black pine on the mountain-side cast a long 
dark shadow across the thin covering of snow which 
covered the whole mountain and even the valley below. 
The cold winds blew fiercely, and the old black pine 
waved his shaggy arms fitfully and laughed at the soft 
snowflakes that nestled themselves fearlessly among his 
long needles. 
“Ho! ho!” laughed the old black pine. “Ho! ho! 
winter has come; but I do not fear him. The flowers 
have gone, but I shall brave the winter storms. I shall 
laugh at them as I have done for countless seasons.” 
Then a fiercer blast of wind struck the pine tree, and 
bent his tall head so low that he saw a little plant grow- 
ing at bis very feet. It was a hardy little mountain rose, 
and it had two buds already half-open. The pine tree 
also heard a weary little sigh. 
“Why do you sigh and fret?” asked the pine tree, his 
shaggy arms spread to protect the plant 
“Alas!” said the rose-plant, “the other plants are long 
since asleep. I wish I might bloom when the others do. 
My buds are beautiful ; but who is there to admire them ? 
What fun it would be to blossom with the blue-eyed 
gentian or the lovely golden-rod ! They would have ad- 
mired my blossoms. But now no one cares. I see no 
use in blooming at all. Oh, dear! oh, dear!” 
“Ho! ho!” laughed the old black pine. “Ho! ho! 
