The Children and the Garland

“TOMORROW is May-day," the children said; "the birds must call us very early, and we will go to the woods and make a garland." And in the morning, long before the sun had looked over the tops of the houses into the village street, they were far away in the woods.

"I will give them some roses as they come back," the gardener said. "They shall put them among the spring flowers, as a swallow among the thrushes, to show that summer is on its way."

When the children had made their garland and a posy for each one of them, they went singing all down the village street, over the grey stone bridge, beyond the hayricks, and past the houses on the hill-side.

In one of the houses there was a pale little child with a sad, thin face. "Mother," he said, “here are some children with a garland. Will it be summer when they have gone by?" He called after them as they went on, " Come back, oh, come back again!”

"Yes, we will come back," they answered, but they went on their way singing. All through the day he waited for them, but they did not come; and at last, when it was evening, the mother took him up into her arms to carry him to his bed. Suddenly he heard the children singing in the distance. “Oh, mother," he exclaimed, “they are coming;” and he watched till they came up the hill again and stood before him. " But where is your garland? “he asked.

" We gave it to lame Mary, the postman's wife, for she is always longing to see the fields," they answered ; " but these roses are for you, dear little boy; they are all for you," and putting them into his hands they went back to the village.

“You are very tired," the child said to the roses; “all your leaves are drooping. Poor roses, perhaps you are lonely away from the garden; but you shall sleep near me, and there is a star rising up in the sky; it will watch us all through the night." Then the child nestled down in his white bed he and his little warm heart, in which there was love for all things. While he slept the roses looked at his pale little face and sighed, and presently they stole softly on to his cheeks and rested there. The children saw them still there when the summer was over; when the garland was quite dead, and lame Mary longed for the fields no more.

Peace

HE looked over his shoulder quickly. She saw him, and turned still more quickly away. "I shall go and take a long walk in the woods," he said.

"You don't know where the rabbit-holes are," she answered.

"Yes, I do ; I found them out the other day."

“I shall go out with Mary."

"All right."

“And I shall never go into the woods with you any more."

"Very well. I don't care," he said. Then she broke down and sobbed.

“You are a very unkind boy."

“It’s all your fault."

"No, it's all yours. You began."

"No, you began."

“You don't like me now," she sobbed.

"Yes, I do."

“You said I was a nasty, disagreeable thing."

"Well, I didn't mean it if I did. You said I was an ugly, unkind boy."

"Oh, but I didn't mean it," she said.

“You know I'm very fond of you."

“So am I of you."

"All right, then, let's make it up." So he turned round quickly and she turned round slowly, and he put his arms round her waist, and she put her hands up on to his shoulders, and they kissed each other, and hugged each other, and rubbed noses, and laughed.

“Shall we go to the woods? “she asked, doubtfully.

"Yes, come along."

“You said you'd go without me," she pouted.

"Oh, but I shouldn't have liked it a bit."

“And I should have been so unhappy," she said.

"And now we just will have a game," he answered, as hand-in-hand they went off as fast as they could scamper.

Seeking the Violets

ALL the wood had been blue with violets, but now they were nearly gone. The birds sang louder and louder to keep them and to call them back, but soon there was not a violet left in all the wood from end to end. The snowdrops died, and the primrose faded, the cowslips and blue-bells vanished, the thorn grew white with blossom, the wild honeysuckle filled the wood with its fragrance, and soon the fruit began to ripen.

The blackbirds and the swallows and the chaffinches, and all the birds they knew, gathered round the garden trees and bushes, and forgot the woods, until suddenly one day they espied a little child. She was sitting on a chair under a tree; she had a little table before her and a pink ribbon round her hat; she was eating fruit with a large silver spoon. The birds were afraid, and held aloof until a sparrow chirped and the child looked up, and when they saw how blue her eyes were, they sang out bravely and fluttered round her, thinking that she had brought them news from the violets. But she never looked up again, though the birds crowded on to the branch above her, and perched upon' the table, and rubbed their little beaks against her plate. She just held on her hat with one hand, and with the other went on taking up fruit with a silver spoon.

"Ah, dear child," a swallow twittered, "perhaps you do not know what is written in your eyes; so many of us carry secrets that we ourselves know last of all"

Over the Porridge

THEY sat down to eat their porridge. The naughty little girl turned her back upon her sister, and put a large spoonful into her mouth.

“Oh oh oh!" she cried, "I have burnt my tongue."

“Eat it slowly," said the good little sister. She took up her porridge carefully, and after blowing it very gently, and waiting for a minute or two while it cooled, ate it, and found it very nice.

"I shall not eat mine until it is quite cold," said Totsey, getting cross.

"Then it will be nasty," said the good little sister, still going on with her own porridge.

"Oh, dear," said Totsey, "if I eat it too hot it burns me, and if I eat it too cold it's nasty. What shall I do?

“Take it as I do mine," said the good little sister. "It is the right way."

“There are two wrong ways and only one right way; it isn't fair," sighed the naughty little girl. "And, oh! my porridge is so nasty." Then she asked, “Did you ever eat your porridge too hot and burn your tongue?"

"No," answered the good little sister; "I never ate my porridge too hot and burnt my tongue."

“Did you ever eat your porridge when it was quite cold and very nasty?”

"No," answered the good little sister again; "I never ate my porridge when it was quite cold and very nasty."

"Well, I have," said Totsey ; " and so I know about two things that you do not know about." And the naughty little sister got up and walked away, and the good little sister sat still and thought about many things.

The Broken Horse

Tina was a 6 years old cute girl. She is very fond of wooden toys, especially she had a beautiful wood horse gifted by her uncle when she was 2 years old. The wooden horse has been her close pal and her pet. She has a 9 years old brother. She went on a vacation to a nature resort in the woods with her family. She carried the wooden horse with her. She enjoyed her holiday with her family in the woods. While she was packing things with her brother as they planned to return home, the wooden horse fallen down and one of the legs were broken. Tina was too sad and silently cried for her horse.

She was very upset. They packed all things and left the woods. Entire family tried to cheer up the sweet little girl, but Tina was so silent, very upset. Tina’s brother tried to console her a lot.  

They had a break for lunch and Tina refused to eat. Her momma requested her to eat food, she ate a very little amount of food.

While others were eating, she sat quietly in their car. Her brother came to her and kissed her cheek, told her,

‘Tina dear, don’t worry, don’t get upset dear. It is only a wooden toy. The horse doesn’t have a life like us and it is just a lifeless thing. Don’t be so sad for the broken leg. Even if the horse loses its tail, it won’t be hurting the horse. Even if all four legs are broken, the wooden horse remains same. Even if the horse loses its head, it won’t be painful. I will buy a new wood horse for you!’

Tina replied, ‘You think it doesn’t matter that a leg of my pet toy was broken?’

Her brother replied, ‘Yes dear!’

Tina replied, ‘Yes brother you are right. It won’t be a major issue for you even if the horse is broken into pieces at this age. But if you are in my age, if you had a pet like I had, you will feel how painful it would be to even if a small part of horse is broken!’

Her brother left silently!

Just like Tina, everyone has different feelings of different aspects. What we considered of no importance will be a treasure of somebody!

The Poor Little Doll

IT was a plain little doll that had been bought for sixpence at a stall in the market-place. It had scanty hair and a weak composition face, a calico body and foolish feet that always turned inwards instead of outwards, and from which the sawdust now and then oozed. Yet in its glass eyes there was an expression of amusement; they seemed to be looking not at you but through you, and the pursed-up red lips were always smiling at what the glass eyes saw.

"Well, you are a doll," the boy said, looking up from his French exercise. "And what are you staring at me for is there anything behind?" he asked, looking over has shoulder. The doll made no answer. "And whatever are you smiling for?" he asked; "I believe you are always smiling. I believe you'd go on if I didn't do my exercise till next year, or if the cat died, or the monument tumbled down." But still the doll smiled in silence, and the boy went on with his exercise. Presently he looked up again and yawned. "I think I'll go for a stroll," he said, and put his book by. "I know what I'll do," he said, suddenly; "I'll take that doll and hang it up to the apple tree to scare away the sparrows." And calling out, "Sis, I have taken your doll; I'm going to make a scarecrow of it," he went off to the garden.

His sister rushed after him, crying out, "Oh, my poor doll! oh, my dear little doll ! What are you doing to it, you naughty boy?”

"It's so ugly," he said.

"No, it is not ugly," she cried.

“And it's so stupid, it never does anything but smile, it can't even grow, it never gets any bigger."

“Poor darling doll," Sis said, as she got it once more safely into her arms, "of course you can't grow, but it is not your fault, they did not make any tucks in you to let out."

“And it's so unfeeling. It went smiling away like anything when I could not do my French."

"It has no heart. Of course it can't feel."

“Why hasn't it got a heart?

“Because it isn't alive. You ought to be sorry for it, and very, very kind to it, poor thing." "Well, what is it always smiling for?" “Because it is so good," answered Sis, bursting into tears. "It is never bad-tempered; it never complains, and it never did anything unkind," and, kissing it tenderly, "you are always good and sweet," she said, “and always look smiling, though you must be very unhappy at not being alive."

On the way to the Sun

HE had journeyed a long way, and was very tired. It seemed like a dream when he stood up after a sleep in the field, and looked over the wall, and saw the garden, and the flowers, and the children playing all about. He looked at the long road behind him, at the dark wood and the barren hills; it was the world to which he belonged. He looked at the garden before him, at the big house, and the terrace, and the steps that led down to the smooth lawn it was the world which belonged to the children.

“Poor boy," said the elder child, "I will get you something to eat."

“But where did he come from? “the gardener asked.

"We do not know," the child answered; "but he is very hungry, and mother says we may give him some food."

"I will take him some milk," said the little one; in one hand she carried a mug and with the other she pulled along her little broken cart.

“But what is he called? “asked the gardener.

“We do not know," the little one answered; "but he is very thirsty, and mother says we may give him some milk."

"Where is he going?" asked the gardener.

“We do not know," the children said ;" but he is very tired."

When the boy had rested well, he got up saying, "I must not stay any longer," and turned to go on his way.

"What have you to do?" the children asked.

"I am one of the crew, and must help to make the world go round," he answered.

“Why do we not help too?”

“You are the passengers."

“How far have you to go?" they asked.

"Oh, a long way!" he answered. "On and on until I can touch the sun."

"Will you really touch it?" they said, awestruck.

"I dare say I shall tire long before I get there," he answered sadly. "Perhaps without knowing it, though, I shall reach it in my sleep," he added. But they hardly heard the last words, for he was already far off.

"Why did you talk to him?” the gardener said. "He is just a working boy."

"And we do nothing! It was very good of him to notice us," they said, humbly.

"Good!" said the gardener in despair. "Why, between you and him there is a great difference."

 "There was only a wall," they answered. “Who set it up? “they asked curiously.

“Why, the builders, of course. Men set it up."

“And who will pull it down ?"

"It will not want any pulling down," the man answered grimly. "Time will do that."

As the children went back to their play, they looked up at the light towards which the boy was journeying.

"Perhaps we too shall reach it someday," they said.