Our little girl found? Why, never a trace

Of the snow-ball—O no! but just in its place

A tiny white violet, sweetest of sweet,

Because of the coverlid over its feet

Through all the long winter! And Ethel’s mamma,

When she heard the whole story said, “Truly we are

No wiser than children. We bury our grief,

And find in its hiding-place Hope’s tender leaf!”

CINDERS:

THE FORTUNE CARL FOUND IN THE ASHES.