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And peo

“ The man went for a great many more men, and after a long time, when it was in the middle of the night, they found her. But she was drowned. They supposed that she stood on a rock, and stooped over so far to pick some blue flags that she fell in ; for the flags were all bent and broken. She

; had her hat in one hand, so that she could not catch hold of anything to save herself.

“ Then poor Alice had no little sister on earth, for she had gone to be an angel.

" And soon Alice began to grow sick from staying out of doors till the middle of the night, when the grass was wet and the air was chilly. ple say she will never be well again, she weeps so much because her little sister was drowned."

Dilly sat very still. She could hardly speak, she felt so bad.

“O, we want to cry so much,” whispered Blue Eyes. “We think our tears must come."

And Dilly said, “ It is no harm to cry now, - is it, mother?"

“ No,” said her mother, “it is no harm to cry now. I feel like crying too. Tears were given us that we might weep for our friends when they are in trouble."

And, all the while her mother was saying this, Dilly's head lay in her lap, – in her mother's lap. And she cried, for she could not help it, thinking about poor Alice so lonely without any little Mabel !

After supper, Dilly's mother said that, now the sun had left the yard, she might go out riding. So she hurried to put on her riding-dress and cap, thinking what a nice time she should have.

But something had happened to the pony! It was too bad, but, while they were eating supper, something had happened to the pony! Dilly did not find it out till she got into the yard.

A big boy, named Jim, a big, ragged boy named Jim, — while they were at supper, came along with an axe, and smashed it; split it up, and cut off its legs, and threw the hat into the duck pond.

Dilly knew it was he that did it, for he sat upon a high post, swinging his legs, with the paint-brush stuck in his hat. When he saw Dilly coming, he ran away. I can't think what he wanted to do so for.

When Dilly saw her pony all smashed up, she felt bad enough. Any little girl would.

“ ( dear!” said she, “ O dear me !”
“ Shall we cry now?” said Blue Eyes.

No, I guess not. O dear. No. Don't cry. Shut up tight. “Humming-bird, squirrel, gold-fish.' 'Humming-bird in the flowers.' Don't cry. "Squirrel in a glass – No, Squirrel cracking nuts.' ,

o dear!”

“ But,” said Blue Eyes, “here are two tears that must come, because we did n't shut up soon enough."

And two big tears rolled down.
But Nimble Fingers had wiped away so many in their lives that they
VOL. IV. — NO. XI.


Don't cry.

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thought it a very easy matter to take care of two. They were out of sight in a twinkling.

“What shall we do? shall we pout?” said Rosy Lips ; " shall we say something cross ?O no, no," said Dilly. “Humming-bird dipping his bill.' 'Squirrel

, with a bushy tail.' 'Gold-fish swimming about in the sun,' — no, don't pout."

Her mother thought it was too bad about the pony, but said she was very, very glad that Dilly could keep from crying. She was really a good girl, and growing better every day.

Afterwards Dilly went up stairs to find something to play with. Upon her sister's table were boxes and baskets full of pretty things. There were wax flowers, and sugar strawberries, and shining rings, and a cologne bottle half full, and a little white-handled penknife that looked very smooth.

Her mother passed by the door.
“Where are your Fingers, Dilly?” said she.

“ All right,” said Dilly, “ they are good Fingers now. They don't meddle. They have n't touched one of sister's things !”

“ But I know they want something to do,” said her mother. “Fingers don't like to keep still. I know of something very pleasant they might do."

“ What is it?" asked Dilly.

“ Here are some scissors. You may cut some damask and some white roses, and take them to Alice. That will be a very pleasant thing for Fingers to do."

It was almost sunset when Dilly came back from carrying the roses. Just as she went through the gate, the funny man came along, leading his little girl, the one whose name began with M.

“Is that you ?” says he. “O yes, that 's you, - is n't it? So 't is, I declare. Well, sis has come. She has brought two sugar hearts and a flag for pony's head. You know when the circus horses come to town, drawing the chariot, the great golden chariot, with the band a playing, they have flags at their heads."

“My pony is broken in pieces,” said Dilly. “ Broke in pieces? Who broke it?”

Big Jim, with his axe." “Well, I declare !” said the funny man. And he took off his hat, and puffed out his cheeks, and scratched his head, and felt in his pockets more than ever. Pretty soon he pinched the end of his nose, and his eyes began to twinkle.

“I know what I'll do,” says he, “ if he ever comes in my yard, I'll set my rooster at him. And when my ship comes you shall have a live pony, and the very first one I take out of her.”

Dilly laughed, and asked him when his ship was coming. “ Do you care how long the tails are ?” said he. No,” said Dilly. “ I like long tails to ponies.” “I'm glad of that,” says he, “ for I guess they'll all have long tails.


Keep the flag for him. Come, sis, let's go home.” But before he went he handed Dilly the handle of a jack-knife, which he found in his last pocket; and his little girl gave her one of the sugar hearts.

When Dilly went into the house, she could not find her father or mother, or anybody else. She was afraid all the people had gone out. But she knew somebody must have stayed with the baby. She ran up into her mother's room. “Baby was in the cradle, fast asleep, with one fat arm thrown over his head. Nobody was in the room, but she thought she heard talking somewhere, and thought, too, that she heard something which sounded like crying

The sounds seemed to come from Eddy's room. She went there, and found her father and mother and Ellen. Eddy was lying on the bed, with his face in the pillow. He was crying. They all were crying.

Dilly went up to her sister, and said in a whisper, “What are they all cry

ing for ?

Her sister bent her head down and whispered, very softly, “ Hush, Dilly ! Eddy has told a lie !"

a “O dear!” said Dilly to herself. “Shall we cry?” said Blue Eyes.

“ Yes,” said Dilly, “ the tears must come now. It is so sad to have a brother who has told a lie. My father and mother are crying too. They would not cry if it were not something very bad. O, I am so sorry!” And Dilly laid her head in her sister's lap, and cried.

That night, when her mother undressed her, she said, “ Dilly, you have grown quite a good girl,

- a pleasant, gentle girl. I think you have found out something which is very good to know.”

“ What is it?” asked Dilly.
“Why," said her mother, “you have found out what tears are for.”
Tears are made to cry with,” said Dilly.

“Yes, but I mean you have learned when it is right to cry. See if you can tell me."

“I know," said Dilly,“ but I can't say it. You say it, please.”

“Well,” said her mother, “ we must not cry because we cannot do as we want to."

“ No,” said Dilly.
« Nor because we cannot have what we want."
“ No,” said Dilly.

“But when we feel sorry for anybody, when we pity them very much, then we may let the tears come.”

“ Yes,” said Dilly.

“ But for our own troubles we must not let them come. We must be brave, and bear our own troubles without crying."

“Yes,” said Dilly.

“And when our friends do something wrong, when a little boy that we love very much tells a lie, we must let the tears come, we can't help it.”

And her mother's tears began to fall, for she was thinking about Eddy.


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“ Mother,” whispered Dilly, " I wish you would tell me how Eddy came to do so.”

Her mother told her, but I cannot write it down now. I have not the time, and, besides, it is not a pleasant thing to write about.

But there is one thing more about Dilly which I think you would like to know.

One morning her sister Ellen came into her room before she was up, and stood by her bed. She had in her hand a small square box, - a very small one. And when she had opened the box, she took out of it a little gold ring with a bright stone in it.

“Which is the black-string Finger," said she. “Which is the white-lily, black-string Finger ?'"

Dilly held up her hand.

“ You are 'good Fingers now,” said Ellen, “you deserve a ring, and you shall have one." Then she slipped on the ring, and it fitted exactly.

“We are going to smile,” said Rosy Lips.
“We will help you,” said Blue Eyes.
“We want to do something else,” said Rosy Lips. “We've got a kiss.”

So Dilly put up her lips, and they kissed Ellen, and thanked her, and said it was a dear, darling little ring.

Are you not glad that Nimble Fingers grew so good? And are you not glad that Blue Eyes knew when to keep the tears back ? Are you not glad that Rosy Lips could keep the cross words from coming out ?

Don't you think it was a good plan for Dilly to think of something pleasant, when anything happened to make her feel cross?

“ Humming-bird, squirrel, gold-fish!” I don't believe they ever looked cross in their lives.

Why don't you try to make your little servants do right? your Blue Eyes, your Rosy Lips, your Nimble Fingers ?

Perhaps you have n't blue eyes, but black ones will mind just as well as blue ones.

Mrs. A. M. Diaz.

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HE Summer was going on a long, long journey; no one knew where,

no one knew why, only that she was surely going, - that every one knew. The trees said it over and over to the birds, and the birds told it again directly to the brook; while the brook, half laughing, half crying, did nothing all day long but run as fast as it could from stone to stone, telling the news to every bunch of fern, to every clump of reeds and bulrushes along his bank, and to the old gentlemen frogs who sat in the cool, wet places, trying to look as young as possible in their fresh green surtouts, and refusing to believe anything they heard about anything whatever, even if the minister himself should tell them it was true.

In the woods, the crow is the minister; you may see him on Sundays sitting in a high tree, preaching his sermon, Caw, caw!” while all the birds come from far and near to listen, and the poor trees and flowers, who cannot stir from their places, look very serious, and all through the wood everything is still. What the crow says is very wise indeed, and the little flowers and grasses listen so hard, in order not to lose a word, that you would think them fast asleep, — as, in truth, I am afraid they sometimes are.

The news made a great commotion in the wood. Everybody had something to say about it, and if the kind heart of the Summer could have taken pleasure in seeing any one sad, she might have been made vain to know that all these mournful sighs of the wind in the branches, all these murmurs of

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