d to keep such a man in
prison."

And so, at last, Charney was set free. Of course he was no longer sad
and un-lov-ing. He saw how God had cared for him and the little plant,
and how kind and true are the hearts of even rough men. And he
cher-ished Picciola as a dear, loved friend whom he could never
forget.

MIGNON.

Here is the story of Mignon as I remember having read it in a famous
old book.

A young man named Wil-helm was staying at an inn in the city. One day
as he was going up-stairs he met a little girl coming down. He would
have taken her for a boy, if it had not been for the long curls of
black hair wound about her head. As she ran by, he caught her in his
arms and asked her to whom she belonged. He felt sure that she must be
one of the rope-dan-cers who had just come to the inn. She gave him a
sharp, dark look, slipped out of his arms, and ran away without
speaking.

The next time he saw her, Wil-helm spoke to her again.

"Do not be afraid of me, little one," he said kindly. "What is your
name?"

"They call me Mignon," said the child.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"No one has counted," the child an-swered.

Wilhelm went on; but he could not help wondering about the child, and
thinking of her dark eyes and strange ways.

One day not long after that, there was a great outcry among the crowd
that was watching the rope-dan-cers. Wilhelm went down to find out
what was the matter. He saw that the master of the dancers was beating
little Mignon with a stick. He ran and held the man by the collar.

"Let the child alone!" he cried. "If you touch her again, one of us
shall never leave this spot."

The man tried to get loose; but Wilhelm held him fast. The child crept
away, and hid herself in the crowd.

"Pay me what her clothes cost," cried the ropedancer at last, "and you
may take her."

As soon as all was quiet, Wilhelm went to look for Mignon; for she now
belonged to him. But he could not find her, and it was not until the
ropedancers had left the town that she came to him.

"Where have you been?" asked Wilhelm in his kindest tones; but the
child did not speak.

"You are to live with me now, and you must be a good child," he said.

"I will try," said Mignon gently.

From that time she tried to do all that she could for Wilhelm and his
friends. She would let no one wait on him but herself. She was often
seen going to a basin of water to wash from her face the paint with
which the