and fragrance. The trees grew so closely on either side of the narrow
path that hardly a glimpse of blue sky could be seen overhead, and not
a shaft of golden sunlight was bold enough to shine down through the
glossy pine needles, as both were thinking.

"Why, yes there is!" little Emily called suddenly, as if answering her
own thoughts aloud. "There's a sunbeam over there--right where the
trees are thickest!"

Grandmother and she hurried to the spot; it seemed a little strange
that the sunlight should have filtered down through such dense shade.
And when they reached it, it was not sunshine at all. It was a
delicate spray of clustered yellow bells, swaying from a slender
thread of vine, and filling the spring air with delicious perfume.

"Oh, it's jasmine!" grandmother and little Emily exclaimed, at the
same moment. And a mocking-bird, flying by, stopped a moment to trill
a sweet strain, as if he, too, was glad to welcome back this lovely
blossom of early spring.

Little Emily gathered the spray of golden bells very carefully, to
carry it home to mother, who was not well enough to walk in the
woodland and see it where it grew; and all that day and the next, the
sweetness of the delicate flowers filled the room and seemed to speak
of love and hope and cheer.

"They bring the sunshine and springtime right here to me," the little
girl's mother said, looking lovingly at Emily. "They are like a small
lassie I know, who helps to brighten all the dark places in my life."