RIDE A COCK-HORSE.
IT was a drizzly day in the old market-town of Banbury. The clouds hung low: all the world was wrapped in sulky mist. When the sun tried to shine out, as once or twice he did, his face looked like a dull yellow spot against the sky, and the clouds hurried up at once and extinguished him. Children tapped on window panes, repeating—
"Rain, rain, go away,
Come again some other day."
But the rain would not take the hint, and after awhile the sun gave up his attempts, hid his head, and went away disgusted, to shine somewhere else.
"It's too bad, it's too bad!" cried Alice Flower, the Mayor's little daughter, looking as much out of sorts as the weather itself.
"You mustn't say too bad. It is God who makes it rain or shine, and He is always right," remarked her Aunt.
"Yes—I know," replied Alice in a timid voice. "But, Aunty, I did want to go to the picnic very much."
"So did I. We are both disappointed," said Aunty, smiling.
"But I'm the most disappointed," persisted Alice, "because you're grown up, you know, and I haven't any thing pleasant to do. All my doll's spring clothes are made, and I've read my story-books till I'm tired of 'em, and I learned my lessons for to-morrow with Miss Boyd yesterday, because we were going to the picnic. Oh, dear, what a long morning this has been! It feels like a week."