I.

rusty narrow further fern dipper towered suffering brim dying withered carefully spill

Once upon a time it was very hot and very, very dry. No rain had fallen for days and days. The thirsty birds had stopped singing. The plants withered and the animals were dying for want of water. All the people were praying for rain.

One morning a little girl started out to find some water for her sick mother. In her hand she carried a tin dipper.

She climbed a high hill hoping to find a spring. Up and up she climbed.

On her way she saw the dusty plants, the quiet birds, and the suffering animals.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The sharp stones cut her feet. High rocks towered above her head.

Their strange shapes filled her with fear. But she thought of her sick mother and she would not turn back. At last she came to a great wall of rocks, and could go no farther.

"Oh, that some good fairy would show me where to find water!" she cried.

And then a beautiful fairy stood before her in a robe like the clouds at sunset. She pointed to a narrow path among the rocks. The child followed the path and soon came to a spring hidden under green fern leaves.

She filled her dipper to the brim. How carefully she held it! How softly she stepped, so as not to spill one drop!

In her path down the hill there lay a rabbit almost dead from thirst.

The little girl needed all the water, but she poured a few drops upon the rabbit's tongue. Then something wonderful happened! The rusty tin dipper was changed to shining silver.

II.

hurried twinkle garments stranger precious faithful diamonds ragged

The little girl hurried home. With a happy heart she gave the water to her sick mother. The gentle mother raised the dipper to her lips, but she did not drink. "My faithful nurse, let her drink first," she said.

As she gave the silver dipper to the nurse, behold! it was changed to yellow gold.

Again the mother raised the water to her lips. Just then a shadow fell across the floor. In the open doorway stood an old woman. She was ragged and pale and weak. She could only stretch out her thin hand toward the water.

The mother and the little girl looked at each other. Could they give up the last drop of the precious water? The mother nodded her head, and the little girl put the golden dipper into the hands of the stranger.

The poor old woman took the water and drank it all. As she drank, her rags were changed into beautiful garments, and the dipper sparkled with diamonds.

"Oh, mother, look! There is the fairy I saw in the mountains," cried the little girl. "And see! The dipper shines like diamonds!"

They looked again, but the fairy was gone. It was not long before clouds spread over the sky, and a gentle rain began to fall. Soon there was water for all the plants, the birds, the animals, and the people.

But the dipper could not anywhere be found. Night came, and the little girl looked up at the stars. There, in the sky, she saw the dipper shining like diamonds.

And now, when the evening stars twinkle overhead, the mothers point out the great dipper in the northern sky and tell this story to their children.

"Is the story true?" the children ask when the tale is ended.

And the mothers smile as they answer:--

"When you can tell what the story means, you will know that it is true."

BEAUTIFUL THINGS

Beautiful hands are those that do Work that is earnest, brave, and true, Moment by moment, the long day through.

Beautiful feet are those that go On kindly errands to and fro-- Down humblest ways, if G.o.d wills it so.

Beautiful faces are those that wear-- It matters little if dark or fair-- Whole-souled honesty printed there.

--DAVID SWING.

MY COUNTRY

From sea to sea my country lies Beneath the splendor of the skies.

Far reach its plains, its hills are high, Its mountains look up to the sky.

Its lakes are clear as crystal bright, Its rivers sweep through vale and height.

America, my native land, To thee I give my heart and hand.

G.o.d in His might chose thee to be The country of the n.o.ble free!

--MARIE ZETTERBERG.

MY OWN LAND FOREVER

Land of the forest and the rock, Of dark blue lake and mighty river, Of mountains reared on high to mock The storm's career and lightning's shock, My own green land forever!

--JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

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