"Well, there's plenty of time before us to choose," remarked a third.

But the mother dandelion shook her leaves and said: "Children, don't boast. Others don't always think as much of us as we do of ourselves!"

"O, but they must," said the little ones; "we are darlings!"

"Very well," said the wind. "Now you may go--puff!" And away flew some of the seeds, just as they do when you blow the dandelion "clocks."

"Puff! puff!" away went the others--all but one.

"Let me stay here, wind," she begged. "If I can grow as large and as beautiful as my mother I shall be content." So the wind just loosened her gently, and down she dropped close to her mother's side.

"You are a wise child," said the field-mouse. "Under this hedge you will grow in peace. Neither scythe nor spade ever comes here. But you won't be seen, and you won't see the world like your brothers and sisters."

Meantime the others went dancing about in fine style. One of them, high up in the blue air, looked at the little white clouds and fancied himself seen by just as many eyes as they were. "Why, this is even better than I thought," said he. "I never fancied I should sail about the sky!"

After some long sunny days of travel he saw below him a beautiful garden all shut in with walls, in which roses and fruit-trees grew.

[Ill.u.s.tration:]

"This is the place for me!" he said, and down he went, and perched on the edge of the great drive in front of all the flower-beds and just before the windows of the house. "Nothing could suit me better!" said he. "I shall have plenty of good company, and I have found a very good place to make my home!" So he folded up his downy wings and quickly fell asleep.

Another of the winged children went skipping over the fields, stopping now and then to play with some flower, or just to bask in the sun.

After a time she came to a sunny bank of gra.s.s on the side of the high-road.

"This is the place for me," she said. "Here I will live and grow, so that all who pa.s.s along this road will be certain to think how beautiful I am!"

And so she settled down among the gra.s.s, quite happy.

And a third said to herself: "It is good to be of some use in the world!" So when one day the breeze took her to the town, she stopped in a flower-pot full of earth that stood upon the dingy window-sill of a poor little house. "I shall be valued here," she said, "and the poor folks will think a lot of me for growing in such a place. After all, it's a fine thing to make people happy."

So she cuddled down in the flower-pot and went to sleep.

And all the other dandelion-children who had sat on the stem that day went dancing about, not knowing what they wanted. They played in the fields and never thought of anything else till one day the rain came and wet their wings and beat them down among the meadows just where they happened to be. But it was very comfortable in the deep gra.s.s, and so they just went to sleep too.

When they woke again, they all had roots and little leaves, and deep in their hearts the buds of flowers. For they had grown up now, and they were plants. At first they were all very small, but the sunshine gradually made them bigger and bigger and drew out the flowers folded in their hearts.

Then the one who had chosen the beautiful garden for his home proudly opened his first yellow flower and looked round to see what the other flowers thought of that.

But alas! he did not know how soon his pride was to have a fall. For the gardener came that way and stopped before him. "Drat these weeds!"

said he. "How came this here?'" Then, whipping out his knife, he stooped down, rooted up the poor dandelion, and threw it among a heap of weeds which were waiting to be wheeled away!

The one who had chosen the roadside bank fared no better, for scarcely had she opened her yellow flowers for everyone to see when a donkey came along. "Here's a juicy mouthful!" said he, and he stopped and ate her up--flowers, leaves, and all!

The flower-pot on the window-sill which the third dandelion-child had made her home was taken inside one day, just when her flowers were ready to open.

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"I must throw away this nasty weed," said a voice, "before I plant my seeds." Then some little round, black, ugly seeds were laid down carefully, while the dandelion was rooted up and flung away into a back yard down below.

This is a sad story, you see, but it is perfectly true.

The others who had skipped about the meadows grew among long gra.s.s now, which nearly choked them, and completely hid them from the sun.

And when June came and the hay was cut, they too were cut and crushed before they had had any flowers at all.

But away in a corner, by a hedge--hidden from all eyes and sheltered from cold winds--the dandelion-child who had not wanted to go into the world grew stronger and more beautiful every day. She knew nothing about fine gardens or admiring eyes--and she cared nothing. All she knew was that the sun looked down on her with all his brightness, and that the great blue sky into which she was always gazing was wide enough and fair enough for her.

E.D.

Conceit Bowled Out!

[Ill.u.s.tration:]

He was a clever cricketer, And very proud of that; Conceitedly one afternoon He took his cricket bat.

But when he at the wicket saw His sister with her curls, He turned his nose up so, and said: "I never play with girls!

"They're molly-coddles all," he cried; "They always spoil a match; They cannot field or bowl a bit-- They cannot even catch!

However, just this once I'll play!"

O, pride had such a fall: You should have heard them shout--a girl Had bowled him out first ball!

C.B.

Laugh at It!

When you hear the merry rain Patter at the window-pane, Think 'twill soon be fine again; So laugh at it!

If you chance to tumble down, Though you b.u.mp your little crown, Never cry or pout or frown, Just laugh at it!

When the sum is hard to do, Rub it out and try anew; When you get the answer true You'll laugh at it!

C.B.

[Ill.u.s.tration:]

The Dancing Academy

This is the way, on a rainy day, We teach our dolls to dance-- The doll in blue, and the Scotchman true, And Lady Belle from France.

It's heel and toe and it's to and fro, They all can do it well; But the best of all our pupils small Is darling Lady Belle!