She Thought, "he Whom I Love More

My Life Is A Lovely Story, Happy And Full Of Incident.

Every Time A Good Child Dies, An Angel Of God Comes Down To Earth. He Takes The Child In His Arms, Spreads Out His Great White Wings, And Flies With It All Over The Places The Child Loved On Earth. The Angel Plucks A Large Handful Of Flowers, And They Carry It With Them Up To God, Where The Flowers Bloom More Brightly Than They Ever Did On Earth.

There Was Once A Bundle Of Matches, And They Were Frightfully Proud Because Of Their High Origin. Their Family Tree, That Is To Say The Great Pine Tree Of Which They Were Each A Little Splinter, Had Been The Giant Of The Forest.

Then She Saw A Star Fall, Leaving Behind It A Bright Streak Of Fire. “someone Is Dying,” Thought The Little Girl, For Her Old Grandmother, The Only One Who Had Ever Loved Her, And Who Was Now Dead, Had Told Her That When A Star Falls, A Soul Was Going Up To God.

It Is The Power Of Thought That Gives Man Power Over Nature.