“Oh, mother, mother,” exclaimed Ellen, “this is a fairy story, after all.”
“Are there, in reality, any such gems?” asked Charles, who did not like that the story should turn out a fairy story.
“There are, my dear Charles; and the same Friend who gave the children these gems has given to them many other gifts as wonderful. He has given to them an instrument by which they can hear the music of the birds, the voices of their friends, and all other sounds; and another by which they can enjoy the delicious perfume of the flowers; the fragrance you so often spoke of, Ellen, when the fruit trees were in blossom, and the locust trees in flower, and the clover in bloom.”
“Oh, what a generous friend that must be,” said Charles, “to give such valuable presents, and so many of them. Are there any more, mother?”
“Yes, Charles, more than I can describe to you if I were to talk till to-morrow morning. There is a very curious instrument by which they can find out the taste of everything that is to be eaten; and another that, by just stretching out their fingers, they can tell whether a thing is smooth or rough, hard or soft.”
“Why, I can tell that by my fingers,” exclaimed Charles.
“Yes, my dear,” said his mother; “and cannot you taste by putting food into your mouth? and is there not an instrument set in your head by which you can hear?”
“My ear, mother?” asked Charles.
“Yes, my dear,” said his mother.
“And do you mean the eyes by those wonderful gems?” asked Ellen.