cordially, and engaged him in a conversation so interesting and so
cleverly arranged to keep his mind occupied that the old gentleman
forgot his need to leave the train, and did not think of it again until
they were in Boston. There the stranger put the lady and her charge into
a carriage, received her assurance that she felt perfectly safe, and was
about to close the carriage door, when she remembered that she had felt
so safe in the keeping of this noble-looking man that she had not even
asked his name. Hastily putting her hand against the door, she said:
"Pardon me, but you have rendered me such service, may I not know whom I
am thanking?" The big man smiled as he turned away, and answered:--

"PHILLIPS BROOKS."

"What a gift it is," said Beecher, who was the great preacher of
cheerfulness, "to make all men better and happier without knowing it! We
do not suppose that flowers know how sweet they are. These roses and
carnations have made me happy for a day. Yet they stand huddled together
in my pitcher, without seeming to know my thoughts of them, or the
gracious work they are doing. And how much more is it, to have a
disposition that carries with it involuntarily sweetness, calmness,
courage, hope, and happiness. Yet this is the portion of good nature in
a large-minded, strong-natured man. When it has made him happy, it has
scarcely begun its office. God sends a natural heart-singer--a man whose
nature is large and luminous, and who, by his very carriage and
spontaneous actions, calms, cheers, and helps his fellows. God bless
him, for he blesses everybody!" This is just what Mr. Beecher would have
said about Phillips Brooks.

And what better can be said than to compare the heart's good cheer to a
floral offering? _Are not flowers appropriate gifts to persons of all