In a bud, they found a small white worm; an egg had been laid there by some kind of fly, and from this egg, the worm came out. It had fed on the heart of the bud, for the fly knew what food its young would like, and laid the egg where this food could be found. Strange that so small a thing should know so well what was best to be done! The girls would think as well as talk of what they saw; hence their minds, in time, were full of thoughts, which could serve to please them when they were at home, and sat at work and did not talk. To think is one of our best joys, so we must hoard up, as fast as we can, good and wise and gay thoughts.
TEARS OF JOY.
At noon as they sat at their plain meal, for in Wales they do not keep such late hours as we do in town, the three would talk of all they had seen, or heard, or felt. They did not care much what they ate—they thought more of their hearts and minds. Kate one day sat down with red eyes, and grave looks; her Aunt saw her state, and was in grief for her.
"Dear Aunt, do not be sad for me," said Kate, "my tears were not tears of grief: as I stood at our gate, I saw a poor lamb in pain; it was in the ditch, and could not get out, so I ran to help it, and took it out and saw it run in the field, so gay! Old dame Madge saw all this, it was her lamb, and she was full of thanks, 'and Miss,' says she, 'what shall I do to please you?' Now you know, Aunt, dame Madge is quite rich, and old Grace quite poor, so I said, 'Madge, if you would please me, pray give that fine jug of new milk, which you have on your head, to poor old Grace.' Well, do you know, she was all smiles at my words, and she said, 'Come then, dear, go with me to Grace's hut, and I will do as you ask;' so with a jump, and a hop, and a spring, I ran to the hut, and I found the poor old soul in bed, not sick but sad, and she had no food, nor fire; so judge how glad she was of the nice warm new milk! And I was as glad as she was when I saw her drink it; and I came out and left Madge with her; for I thought a few kind words and some chat would do her as much good as the milk."
"And as I came home, I found my eyes wet, and tears on my cheeks; but I am sure, I do not know why they came there, for I was all joy, and felt my heart so gay and so warm! I am sure I did not cry, for I was glad then, and though grave as you say, I am glad now."
THE POOR GAY.
"There are tears of joy as well as of grief," said the kind Aunt, "such as I now shed; can you tell why?"—"I can tell," said Blanche, "I know why you weep, you are so glad to find Kate's heart so good."—"Yes, I love her that she did not think of self; and I love you, my Blanche, for your warm praise of her."
"So now let us run to the heath, to see the young men and maids dance," said Kate, and they set off for the heath. The old man was there, with a stone for his seat, and there were the lads, each with his lass, so blythe and gay. The turf was smooth for their feet, and the sweet herbs sent forth a mild scent. The air was calm and still, and the sun, as it set on the sea, gave a rich light to the scene. "I love to see the poor made glad!" said the Aunt, "they toil so much, it is right they should have a few hours of mirth."—"If I were rich," said Kate, "I would think as much of the sports of my poor as of their toils; the song, and the dance on the fresh sod, in the cool air, can do no harm: nor is that all—the breast that glows with pure joy, when a sky like this, with stars as gems, and a moon as a lamp, form the roof and the lights; when the smell of plants and shrubs is the scent, and the sight of woods and heaths, and all the works of God are the charms and graces of the spot; the breast that glows in such scenes must glow with good thoughts."
The Aunt spoke no more, but her looks said all she felt. The girls were as gay as those they saw dance, and they gave a few pence to the old man, and they sent milk and bread, and fruit to the young men and maids.