The violet sighed its life away,
Embalming, with its last faint breath,
The little foot, that thus, in play,
Had put its soft, blue flower to death.
Ah, was it not a tender flower,
To lavish all the wealth it had,
Its fragrance, in its dying hour,
Mild, meek, forgiving, mute, though sad.
My little girl, the lesson learn;
Be thou the violet—love thou so;
Retort no wrong; but nobly turn,
And with thy heart’s wealth bless thy foe.
THE TWO NOSEGAYS.
One fine summer evening, as the mother of Virginia and Maria was walking with them in the garden, she observed that, from time to time, they went away by themselves, and whispered mysteriously together; and whenever she went towards them, to inquire into the subject of their conversation, they stopped, and began to play about.
This conduct disturbed her very much; for she knew that when girls have anything which they wish to conceal from their mothers, there must be something wrong about it.
This case, however, was an exception to the general rule, Virginia and Maria had nothing improper in their minds; but the next day was their mother’s birth-day, and they wished to think of something which would be a suitable present for them to make her.