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For the Wreath.
Small Beginnings.
A gentleman was once examining a very large and fine library in Boston, when the lady who had introduced him, asked him if he would like to see the “nucleus” of the collection. (If you do not know what “nucleus” means, you will have to turn to the dictionary, as I can think of no simpler word to substitute for it.) “Yes, I should like to see it,” replied the visitor. She then exhibited to him a Latin dictionary, which she said was purchased by the owner when a boy, with money obtained by the sale of blueberries. The owner was a farmer’s boy, and that is the way he began his fine library. He is now a learned man, and is well known in this country and in Europe.
For the Wreath.
Vanity—A Fable.
Two birds, whose plumage was very brilliant, and whose song was beautiful, were sitting on a tree, singing, when they discovered a man looking at them very intently. “There is an admirer—see how we have entranced him!” cried one of the birds, and she put on her proudest air, and warbled her sweetest song. “I do not like to be gazed at so earnestly by a stranger,” modestly replied the other bird; “come, let us go and hide ourselves from the intruder.” The modest bird flew into a thicket and concealed herself; but the other, flying to the top-most bough, began to show off all her airs, when suddenly the sharp crack of a gun was heard, and the silly bird fell dead.
Moral.—“Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.”
Keta.