"Grandmother I forget the next verse," said Fanny, interrupting
herself; "I know it is something about lilies not spinning; but then
comes this verse--

"Barns, nor hoarded store have we"--

"It is not the lilies, grandmother, but the blessed birds that are
speaking now--

"Barns, nor hoarded store have we,
Yet we carol joyously;
Mortals, fly from doubt and sorrow,
God provideth for the morrow."

Poor Mrs. Newton clasped her thin hands, and looked up, and prayed
like the disciples, "Lord, increase our faith!"

"Eh!" said she, afterwards, "is it not strange that we can trust our
Lord and Saviour with the care of our souls for eternity, and we
cannot trust Him with that of our bodies for a day."

Well! this was poor Mrs. Newton's state on that day, when the
gentleman gave Fanny the half-sovereign instead of sixpence, for her
flowers.

When the little flower-girl came back from her race with her two
sixpences, she found the old vegetable-seller had got her three or
four pennies more, by merely showing her basket, and telling why it
was left at his stall; and so every one left a penny for the honest
child, and hoped the gentleman would reward her well. The old man at