Page images
PDF
EPUB

It was followed by a roar of thunder that shook the hills and sent its echo far away.

The cattle ran for shelter, and bellowed with fear. The children covered their faces, and put their fingers in their ears; the very little ones cried, and ran to their mothers to hide. The birds forgot to sing, and flew swiftly and silently to their nests. The flowers meekly bent their heads, and closed their tiny petals in alarm. An old oak that was standing near had its branches broken, its bark torn, and its leaves destroyed by the lightning. Great drops of rain began to fall, and for nearly an hour the lightning flashed, the thunder rolled, the wind blew, and the rain fell in torrents.

At last the storm-clouds passed away, and the sunbeam found its way to the earth again. The flowers opened their petals and lifted their heads. The birds came out of their hidingplaces and began to sing. The grass and the trees said to the suhbeam, 'Why did you send the lightning? He comes in storm and tempest, with thunder and terror, to make us afraid. You come in gentleness and peace, to wipe away our tears and to kiss away our fears. Power and strength are very grand and wonderful, but we cannot love them. Your gentle, loving help and comfort are what we want; they are worth more to us than all the noise and fury in the world. Do you come and live with us, and smile upon us always, for we are afraid of the lightning.'

F

[blocks in formation]

Down in my solitude under the snow,
Where nothing cheering can reach me,
Here, without light to see how to grow,
I'll trust to nature to teach me.

I will not despair, nor be idle, nor frown,
Locked in so gloomy a dwelling ;

My leaves shall run up, and my roots shall run down,

While the bud in my bosom is swelling.

Soon as the frost will get out of my bed,
From this cold dungeon to free me,
I will peer up with my little bright head;
All will be joyful to see me.

Then from my heart will young petals diverge,
As rays of the sun from their focus ;
I from the darkness of earth will emerge,
A happy and beautiful Crocus.

Gaily arrayed in my yellow and green,
When to their view I have risen,
Will they not wonder that one so serene
Came from so dismal a prison?

Many, perhaps, from so simple a flower
This little lesson may borrow—
Patient to-day, through its gloomiest hour,
We come out the brighter to-morrow.
HANNAH F. GOULD

[blocks in formation]

I am only an old broom, lying here by the dust-bin waiting to be carried away when the dustman calls for the ashes; but although I look so old and forlorn, I have seen better days, as you shall hear.

I was once hung up amongst the best brushes in an ironmonger's shop, and little thought I should ever so come down in the world as to appear in my present condition. But I will give you my short history since leaving the shop, then you will see how it is I am what I

am now.

One day a lady came into the shop and asked to look at some sweeping brooms. Several large bundles were reached down for her to examine, but they were none of them good enough. The lady evidently knew that a good broom, though it might cost a little more at first, would be the cheapest in the end. At

last the bundle in which I hung was shown to her, and she selected me. I need not say how grieved I was to leave my old companions, who had hung up with me so long, nor how sad and quiet they all were when I had to bid them farewell. I was packed in a large basket amongst other articles, and given to Jerry, the errandboy, to take to the lady's house.

This Jerry was a smart little fellow, about twelve years old. old. He got very little pay for his work, but he did it well and cheerfully. You should have seen how he trudged along with the basket the night he took me home. It was Christmas time just then, and I daresay he was looking forward to a holiday, and he might perhaps have a few coppers given to him at the houses he was going to. Very likely these thoughts made the basket feel lighter than it really was; and I sincerely hope Jerry was not disappointed, but that his pockets felt heavier to him when his work was done than the basket had felt before.

Arrived at my new home, I was sent down into the kitchen to be used by Maria the servant. I was afraid I had fallen into bad hands directly I saw her. She was such a picture of dirt and untidiness, that I could not for the life of me tell which was Maria and which was the dirt. She had just finished her work, and was washing herself. Since she did not possess any ornaments of gold, she took care to leave a necklace and bracelets of dirt.

Next morning Maria used me for doing her work. She took me into the hall first. She was supposed to sweep the hall every morning, and so she did in her own way. But she never

moved the mats to sweep under them, unless her mistress was about. Then when she reached the door she swept the dirty steps with me, put me on the dirty gravel path, and rested herself on my long handle, while she had a few minutes' gossip with the servant next door. This is the way she used me every morning, and in the afternoons used me just as badly in sweeping her kitchen. I have been in her charge but a very short time, but you will not wonder at my appearance now you know how badly she has used me. She has never once given me a washing. I should have lasted twice as long with care.

I could tell you a lot more strange things about Maria, but here comes the dustman, and I shall in a few minutes be one of the numerous things which go to make up the general muddle contained in his cart. Alas! that I should ever have come to this! My young friends, if ever you buy a new broom, use it well. Remember me, and think how much more work I might have accomplished but for the untimely end I have come to, through no fault of my own. Ah! there is that dreadful Maria peeping through the window at the dustman as he carries me away, and shouts with all his might, "Dust-ho!'

E. M. G.

« PreviousContinue »