oner had the Captain stopped his speech, and got
into the reflective mood, than William's tongue was loosened.

"O Captain Hardy!" said he, "don't go on until you have told us
something more about those curious little flowers you have been speaking
of. It is so odd to think of flowers growing in such a desert place!"

"O, do!" exclaimed little Alice, "O, do, do, Captain Hardy! they must be
such pretty little things! But I don't see how they ever get any chance
to grow, when it is so cold and dreary. How do they?"

"Pretty they are indeed, my dear," replied the kind-hearted Captain,
pleased to have the question asked, as was evident, "and very wonderful.
How they managed to grow is more than I can tell, and is just as
astonishing to me as to yourselves. The snow, however, in the spring
went pretty quickly; and as soon as the earth was free in any place,
then we saw the tiniest flowers you ever saw coming up, seemingly right
out of the frozen earth, and almost underneath the very snow,--at least
within a few inches of it. The Dean and I one day came across one of
these little flowers, looking just like a buttercup, only the whole
plant was--well, the littlest thing you ever did see. Why, it was so
little that little Alice's little thimble, with which she is learning to
sew so prettily, would have been quite large enough for a flower-pot to
put the whole of it in! and it would have grown there, too,--and glad
enough, no doubt. There was a great snow-bank hanging right over it, and
there was ice all around it. But still it looked spunky, and happy, and
well contented, and seemed quite able to take care of itself.

"As we walked on towards the hut, I noticed that the Dean grew very
thoughtful.

"'What's the matter, Dean?' said I; 'what are you thinking about?'

"'About that little flower,' replied the Dean.

"At this I laughed, asking the Dean what there was in the little flower
to think about.

"'A great deal,' said he.

"I laughed again, and asked him what it was.

"'Why,' said he, very soberly, 'it is a lesson to us not to get the
blues any more. If that poor flower can live and fight its way against
such odds, I think we ought to!'

"Now there was more in that observation of the thoughtful little Dean
than you would think for; and we talked a great deal about the little
flower,--indeed, it came up between us very often; we went back many
times to it, and watched it closely. Once there came a snow-storm and
b