this, he had lived in a warm country,
where the sun shines down on beautiful

16 ECLECTIC SERIES.
orange groves, and fields always sweet with flowers.
2. But now he had come to visit his grandmother, who
lived where the snow falls in winter. Johnny was standing at
the window when the snow came down.

3. "O mamma!" he cried, joyfully, "do come quick, and
see these little white birds flying down from heaven."
4. "They are not birds, Johnny," said mamma, smiling.
5. "Then maybe the little angels are losing their feathers!
Oh! do tell me what it is; is it sugar? Let me taste it," said

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Johnny. But when he tasted it, he gave a little jump--it was
so cold.
6. "That is only snow, Johnny," said his mother.
7. "What is snow, mother?"
8. "The snowflakes, Johnny, are little drops of water that
fall from the clouds. But the air through which they pass is
so cold it freezes them, and they come down turned into
snow."
9. As she said this, she brought out an old black hat from
the closet. "See, Johnny! I have caught a snowflake on this
hat. Look quick through this glass, and you will see how
beautiful it is."
10. Johnny looked through the glass. There lay the pure,
feathery snowflake like a lovely little star.
11. "Twinkle, twinkle, little star!" he cried in delight. "Oh!
please show me more snow-flakes, mother."
12. So his mother caught several more, and they were all
beautiful.
13. The next day Johnny had a fine play in the snow, and
when he carne in, he said, "I love snow; and I think
snowballs are a great deal prettier than oranges."

3,

18 ECLECTIC SERIES.

LESSON III.

LET IT RAIN.

Rose. See how it rains! Oh dear, dear, dear! how dull it is!
Must I stay in doors all day?
Father. Why, Rose, are you sorry that you had any bread
and butter for breakfast, this morning?
Rose. Why, father, what a question! I should be sorry,
indeed, if I could not get any.
Father. Are you sorry, my daughter, when you see the
flowers and the trees growing in the garden?
Rose. Sorry? No, indeed. Just now, I wished very much to
go out and see them,--they look so pretty.
Father. Well, are you sorry when you see the horses,
cows, or sheep drinking at the brook to quench their thirst?
Rose. Why, father, you must think I am a cruel girl, to
wish that the poor horses that work so hard, the beautiful
cows that

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give so much nice milk, and the pretty lambs should always
be thirsty.