FOR THE LITTLE ONES.
HE rich men have their gardens,
With blossoms rare and sweet,
Where lilies bloom, and roses
And honeysuckles meet;
And flowers that are the choicest
Within their grounds are seen,
I only have the blossoms
That grow upon the green.
But I think God made the daisies,
That are so fair to see,
Just for the little children—
The little ones like me.
The nobles have their paintings
That hang upon the walls,
Of wealthy lords and ladies,
And vales and waterfalls,
And soldiers out at battle,
And sailors on the deep;
I only look on fields and lanes.
And flowers that wake and sleep,
But I think God made the fields and hills,
And the bright blue sky I see
As pictures for the children—
The little ones like me.
A GOOD COMRADE.
Founded on Fact.
The owner of a vegetable-garden one day noticed that a basket which had just been filled with new turnips became suddenly emptier. He questioned the gardener, who likewise could not understand the matter, and proposed, as a certain means of discovering the thief, that they should hide themselves behind a hedge which was near. This was done. After some minutes they saw the house-dog go straight to the basket, take a turnip in his mouth, and then make his way to the stable. Dogs do not eat raw turnips; our watchers therefore followed the thief, and discovered that the horse, his stable mate, was also concerned in the affair.
Wagging his tail, the dog gave the horse the turnip, and the horse, of course, did not require much pressing. The gardener angrily seized his knobbed stick in order to chastise the dog, but his master held him back. The turnips went on disappearing in exactly the same way, and the scene repeated itself until the supply was exhausted.
The dog had long made this horse his favourite, while he seemed to consider a second horse which was in the same stable not worthy of a glance, much less a turnip.