HAVE a linnet small and brown,
And I to it am kind,
Because it must be sad at heart,
For it is quite, quite blind.
Oh! only think what it must be
Never to see the flowers,
And never see the sky and trees,
In golden summer hours.
But still my linnet sweetly sings
A rippling, happy song,
As though its tiny heart o'erflowed
With joy the whole day long.
And so, whenever I am cross,
And tears fall like the rain,
Oh! when I hear my linnet sing,
It makes me good again!
THE GIANT OF THE TREASURE CAVES.
(Continued from page [247].)
A very pretty little fishing village is Tout-Petit. The deep blue sea, the green hills, and the tiny red-roofed, white-walled hamlet straggling down to the port made it very quaint. A rivulet, spanned by a cranky bridge, swept round the base of the hill to the left, and down the centre of the village street, till it found its way into the sea at the harbour. There were shady paths close to the shore, little knots of silver poplar and birch, winding walks among the rocks and on the smooth sands. The port was full of brown sails and tall masts; the air redolent of tar and sea-weed. When the fishing boats spread their canvas and glided out one by one into the open sea, the scene was enchanting. At the top of the hill was the Grande Place, where stood the ancient church, the market-place, the municipal buildings, and the houses of the better class.
It was at the top of the hill, where there was a great stone cross, that the women and children collected to watch for the returning boats. It was to this old cross that the homeward-bound mariner first turned his eyes. He knew that his dear ones were standing there waiting, longing for him.
Estelle was charmed with the village, and with the many kindly greetings she received from the peasant folk. All seemed glad to see her, the market-women even pressing an apple or a few plums on her. They, on their side, were delighted with her graceful manner and her excellent French. They seemed to know all about her.
Madame Bricolin, busy over the important business of buying a chicken, vegetables, and fruit for M. le Curé's table, found time to draw her master's attention to the child. The old man was coming down the hill, but he stopped to look at the fair-haired, slender English child, whose high-bred, dainty little air, caused him to ponder. Who and what was she? He smiled when Mère Bricolin brought her to him, and put out his hand to greet her.
Estelle thought he had the kindest of faces, and accepted with joy his invitation to let Jack bring her one day to see him. At that moment the doctor, hastening across the Grande Place, caught sight of her.