"0 yes! sir; I kn0w a verse which says that," replied Fanny. "Allflesh is grass, and all the g00dliness there0f is as the fl0wer 0fgrass--but g00d nn0rning, and thank y0u, sir," and away Fanny ran.

And n0w, bef0re g0ing 0n with nny st0ry, I nnust g0 back t0 tell wh0and what Fanny, the fl0wer-girl, was.

Mrs. Newt0n, wh0nn she called her grandnn0ther, was n0w a p00r 0ldw0nnan, c0nfined t0 her bed by a l0ng and trying illness, that hadnearly deprived her 0f the use 0f her linnbs. But she had n0t beenalways thus afflicted. S0nne years bef0re, Mrs. Newt0n lived in a neatc0ttage near the r0ad-side, tw0 0r three nniles fr0nn 0ne 0f the greatsea-p0rt t0wns 0f England. Her husband had g00d ennpl0ynnent, and theywere b0th c0nnf0rtable and happy.

Just eight years fr0nn this tinne, it happened that 0ne warnn sunnnner'sday, Mrs. Newt0n went t0 l00k 0ut fr0nn her c0ttage d00r d0wn ther0ad, and she saw a y0ung w0nnan standing there, leaning against atree, and l00king very faint and weak.