The little pink and white border flowers would say:
“I wonder where little Friedrich is this morning?” Then the old red rose would say: “Never mind! he never forgets us. He will be here soon.”
The doves in the garden would flutter round his head and light on his shoulders. Even the mother-bird would let him hold her little birds in his hand. When Friedrich came into the garden he always brought something for the birds to eat. They would cry out:
“Here comes Friedrich with our breakfast!” and fly over to meet him.
Friedrich had no mother to teach him, but he had a big strong brother who was very good to him. This big brother would take little Friedrich out in the meadows, and tell him stories about the bugs and the bees and the flowers. Then about the fairies and the giants and the underground people. Friedrich loved these stories very much and never forgot them.
When he grew bigger and went to school it was very hard to sit on a bench all day and look at a book—especially where there were no pictures in it at all, and the school master was very stern.
“Dear me!” thought Froebel. “This is a very stupid way to learn. I wish I could see some pictures, and hear some stories and do something with my hands, and sometimes play a little—I am so tired of this old bench!”
Froebel never forgot how tired he was and how stupid the book was. When he became a man he thought about his garden and he thought about his school, and he said:
“I will make me a child garden, and the children shall grow in it like the flowers and the doves at home.”