QUARTERLY REVIEW.
As she stands beside the beautiful clear water, an unpleasant thought comes into her mind. It was only yesterday that some white travellers came through the village on horseback. A little girl about Auwae's own age was in the party. She was very pretty. Her cheeks were pink and white; her hair was like the golden sunlight; her eyes were as clear and blue as the waters surrounding the beautiful island.
"Why wasn't I made white?" the little brown girl said to herself. "If I should bathe myself over and over again, it would make no" difference. I should never look like her. Oh, dear, I will ask mother why God made us so different.
She ran quickly back down the pathway till she met her mother.
"Mamma," she whispered, "I think you are just lovely as you are, but still I do wish I had been born to look like the little American girl I saw yesterday on horseback."
"My dear one," answered her mother, "God is love, and all are alike to Him. In the fields around us He has made flowers of many kinds and colours. Some roses are red, and some are white, yet the red and the white are equally admired. So it is with the people who share His life. Some are of one colour, some another; they are all needed to give variety and beauty to the world. All are equally His work. Be happy and contented, my darling, and think no more about it."
Auwae's eyes grow bright again as her mother speaks. The shadow passes away, and she is her own joyous self again.
"Of course it is all right. I'm glad I'm just what I am," she exclaims. "And yet, mamma, when Christmas comes, I believe I should like a white doll that would look like that little girl. I could have such fun playing with her and curling her hair. You know we often put red and white roses in the same bowl, and they look very pretty together."
"All right, I will remember your wish when the time comes," laughs her good-natured mother, while Auwae hastens away, half dancing, half running.