e perfume from her leaves was stronger than is usual in
these flowers, and the bird noticed it, and though he was fainting with
thirst, and in his pain pulled up the green blades of grass, he did not
touch the flower.

The evening came, and yet no one had come to bring the bird a drop of
water. Then he stretched out his pretty wings and shook convulsively; he
could only sing "Tweet, tweet," in a weak, mournful tone. His little
head bent down toward the flower; the bird's heart was broken with want
and pining. Then the flower could not fold her leaves as she had done
the evening before when she went to sleep, but, sick and sorrowful,
drooped toward the earth.

Not till morning did the boys come, and when they found the bird dead,
they wept many and bitter tears. They dug a pretty grave for him and
adorned it with leaves of flowers. The bird's lifeless body was placed
in a smart red box and was buried with great honor.

Poor bird! while he was alive and could sing, they forgot him and
allowed him to sit in his cage and suffer want, but now that he was
dead, they mourned for him with many tears and buried him in royal
state.

But the turf with the daisy on it was thrown out into the dusty road. No
one thought of the little flower that had felt more for the poor bird
than had any one else and that would have been so glad to help and
comfort him if she had been able.

[Illustration]

THE PEA BLOSSOM

THERE were once five peas in one shell; they were green, and the shell
was green, and so they believed that the whole world must be green also,
which was a very natural conclusion.

The shell grew, and the peas grew; and as they grew they arranged
themselves all in a row. The sun shone without and warmed the shell, and
the rain made it clear and transparent; it looked mild and agreeable in
broad daylight and dark at night, just as it should. And the peas, as
they sat there, grew bigger and bigger, and more thoughtful as they
mused, for they felt there must be something for them to do.

"Are we to sit here forever?" asked one. "Shall we not become hard,
waiting here so long? It seems to me there must be something outside; I
feel sure of it."

Weeks passed by; the peas became yellow, and the shell became yellow.

"All the world is turning yellow, I suppose," said they--and perhaps
they were right.

Suddenly they felt a pull at the shell. It was torn off and held in
human hands; then it was slipped int