the
water, and strove to grasp the image by the neck, but it fled away.
Again he kissed the stream, but the image mocked his love. And all day
and all night, lying there without food or drink, he continued to gaze
into the water. Then raising himself, he stretched out his arms to the
trees about him, and cried:--

"Did ever, O ye woods, one love as much as I! Have ye ever seen a lover
thus pine for the sake of unrequited affection?"

Then turning once more, Narcissus addressed his reflection in the limpid
stream:--

"Why, dear youth, dost thou flee away from me? Neither a vast sea, nor
a long way, nor a great mountain separates us! only a little water keeps
us apart! Why, dear lad, dost thou deceive me, and whither dost thou go
when I try to grasp thee? Thou encouragest me with friendly looks. When
I extend my arms, thou extendest thine; when I smile, thou smilest in
return; when I weep, thou weepest; but when I try to clasp thee beneath
the stream, thou shunnest me and fleest away! Grief is taking my
strength, and my life will soon be over! In my early days am I cut off,
nor is Death grievous to me, now that he is about to remove my sorrows!"

Thus mourned Narcissus, lying beside the woodland spring. He disturbed
the water with his tears, and made the woods to resound with his sighs.
And as the yellow wax is melted by the fire, or the hoar frost is
consumed by the heat of the sun, so did Narcissus pine away, his body
wasting by degrees.

And often as he sighed: "Alas!" the grieving Echo from the wood
answered: "Alas!"

With his last breath he looked into the water and sighed: "Ah, youth
beloved, farewell!" and Echo sighed: "Farewell!"

And Narcissus, laying his weary head upon the grass, closed his eyes
forever. The Water-Nymphs wept for him, and the Wood-Dryads lamented
him, and Echo resounded their mourning. But when they sought his body
it had vanished away, and in its stead had grown up by the brink of the
stream a little flower, with silver leaves and golden heart,--and thus
was born to earth the woodland flower, Narcissus.

MOTHERS' DAY

(SECOND SUNDAY IN MAY)

THE LARK AND ITS YOUNG ONES

A HINDU FABLE

BY P. V. RAMASWAMI RAJU (ADAPTED)

A child went up to a lark and said: "Good lark, have you any young
ones?"

"Yes, child, I have," said the mother lark, "and they are very pretty
ones, indeed." Then she pointed to the little birds and said: "This is
Fair Wing, that is Tiny Bill, and t