THE CONTENTED PANSY.
wish,' said the Pansy, 'I had not been planted
To catch the full force of the wind from the east;
But, somehow, the gardener takes it for granted
That that's not a hardship I mind in the least.
'Twas all very well while the laurel was growing,
Her glittering leaves were a capital shield;
But now she is gone, and the chilly winds blowing
Can whistle unchecked from the neighbouring field.
'The pinks and the roses are grandly protected,
They're touched but by winds from the south and the west;
Yet here, in exposure, I'm always expected
To blossom in colours my brightest and best.
The sun on my home his warm light seldom squanders,
And only when night is beginning to fall;
While if through the garden the honey-bee wanders,
He never looks twice at my corner at all.
'But light is my heart as the fairest of roses,
For yesterday morning, in kindliest tone,
I heard some one say, who was gathering posies,
"I'm fond of that pansy that blossoms alone."
Just think of it! Some one has noticed me growing!
I don't want the wind from the south and the west,
And, spite of the hurricane bitterly blowing,
I'll blossom in colours the brightest and best.'
HOW HETAIS WORE HIS MEDAL.
A True Story.
Hetais was a French sailor, a carpenter of the Ville de Paris, and he and his ship-mates took part with our soldiers in the siege of Sebastopol in 1854, where Hetais, having shown great gallantry during one of the sorties, was adjudged that coveted decoration, the médaille militaire—a medal that is only given to privates and non-commissioned officers.