The other day Aunt Fanny was talking with a good minister, and asked him which he thought were best for children—funny stories or serious ones.
"Well," said he, "suppose I relate what happened to me last week, and leave you to guess?"
"Oh! that will be delightful!" I answered. "I am just as fond as the children are of hearing stories, and, as they say: 'Please begin right away.'"
"Very well. Last week I was in Rochester, in this State. There is a very large orphan asylum there, and I was invited to visit it, and address the boys. I was very glad to do so; and when I entered the chapel, I found several hundred boys waiting for me—some with bright, honest faces, some looking full of mischief and fun, and all wondering what the minister was going to say, and no doubt hoping he was a good kind of a minister, who did not think it wrong to play.
"I fancy they must have seen something that pleased them in my face; for when I said, 'Boys, which would you rather have, a story or a sermon?' they all shouted out merrily, 'A story! a story!' and some added: 'Let it begin, "Once upon a time," for that is the best kind of story.'
"Very well, boys, you shall have a story, and it shall begin just as you say.
"Once upon a time, a little girl was playing in a garden, rolling hoop, jumping rope, and talking to her doll. After a while, she ran to her mother, who was sitting upon a bench that was under a wide-spreading tree, and asked if she might have some luncheon. Her mother went into the house, and soon returned with a small basket, and gave it to the little one. What was her surprise and delight, when she peeped in, to find a light, delicate biscuit, a nice cake, a beautiful ripe peach, and a little cherry tart.
"Lucy (for that was her name) placed all these things on the bench, and clapping her hands with delight, exclaimed: 'Oh! how nice they all look! What a fine party dolly and I will have with them!' Then she put the biscuit in dolly's white kid hand, who smiled sweetly all the time, and taking the cake in her own, began to eat it.
"Just then a poor woman approached the gate. Holding fast to her ragged dress was a little boy, so wan, so thin, so starved-looking, that Lucy stopped eating, and gazed pityingly at him.
"'Oh! what nice white bread!' said the poor boy.