Sorrow came into the heart of the child for his selfishness; and, as he thought of his beautiful mother, how she always smiled upon him, and would help him to heaven, his heart filled up with love to her.
At that moment he opened his eyes, and there
by his side sat the mother, watching for his awaking; a heavenly smile stole over his features, and he held up his arms to her. The mother caught him from the cradle, and wept over him in the ecstasy of a new-found joy and love; for it was the First Smile her baby had given her.
CYBELE, THE TAMBOURINE GIRL.
Cybele was a little girl; she had large gray eyes, and brown hair smoothly parted over her forehead, while there was a pitiful expression round her mouth, that pleaded with you so earnestly, you could scarce help stopping, as you met her, to give her a few pennies.
Her real home was not in this country. Long ago she had come over from the bright land of Italy,—from its warm, sunny skies and beautiful gardens, where the birds sang so joyfully, and gay music sounded on the air,—all which she longed to see and hear again; and as all things there had been so beautiful, and here so dreary, all beauty grew to be the same thing as that dear Italy, so that when she even saw flowers in the window of some lordly house, she would stand, gazing tearfully through them at the far-off home!
Cybele's mother had died in that beautiful land,
and it was in one of its lovely gardens her body rested while her spirit soared heavenward. The little girl knew this place so well;—the orange-trees grew about it, and the song of the waterfall, near by, played and sparkled in the tones of the birds. But Cybele's aunt had taken the little girl with her to this distant land, and the child could no longer go and weep over the grave where her mother's body had been laid; but her heart was there—it could not forget. She dreamed of it in the long nights; and, when she played upon her tambourine, the remembrance inspired her notes, making people love to listen to her.