This summer I have decided to have scarlet geraniums on the front window ledge. Florence Nightingale loved their brightness dearly, and was helped in an illness by it. One day I was tending them, and wanted to put a poor stragging plant where the sun might kiss it into life, and in doing so I broke the stem. Somehow this poor little plant appealed to me, and I decided to give it my first and best attention, and I tied the stern to a thin stake. Later on it blossomed so well that it was the best plant, in fact it had far more blossom than the more sturdy plants, all through the summer, and gave me joy and pleasure. Now in my quiet room I think of it. We who suffer and feel broken have but to hold on to the Trainer and do His will and His bidding. Out of a life appearing useless we may give forth blossoms of patience and endurance, brightness for the sake of others, but we must just trust when feeling broken the One who tends and loves us, and died that we might live.
F. W. S.