, half
hidden in the grass--answered, as she went along--

"Yes, they are all to be cared for and made happier, if it be
possible."

"The cuckoo clock is not alive," she thought. "Oh, no; it is not
alive," the trees answered; "but many things that do not live have
voices, and many others are just sign-posts, pointing the way."

"The way! The way to what, and where?"

"We find out for ourselves;--we must all find out for ourselves," the
trees sighed and whispered to each other.

As the bad girl entered the cottage, the cuckoo called out its name
eleven times, but she did not even look up. She walked straight across
to the chair by the fireside, and kneeling down, kissed her granny's
hands.

MORNING TIME.

I.

Awake, my pet!
What! slumbering yet,
When the day's so warm and bright?
The flowers that wept
Before they slept
O'er the darkness of yesternight,
Have listened long
To the lark's wild song,
And awoke with the morning light.

II.

Again and again
Through the window-pane
The jasmine flowers kept peeping,
And in at the door,
And along the floor,
The sunny rays came creeping,
So I opened wide
The sash, and tried
To tell them you were sleeping.

III.

Awake, my dear,
The winter drear
Has fled with all things dreary,
But quickly by
The spring will fly,
And soon the birds will weary.--
Awake while yet
The dew is wet
And day is young, my deary.

THE PINK PARASOL.

The pink parasol had tender whalebone ribs and a slender stick of
cherry-wood. It lived with the wilful child in the white-house, just
beyond the third milestone. All about the trees were green, and the
flowers grew tall; in the pond behind the willows the ducks swam round
and round and dipped their heads beneath the water.

Every bird and bee, every leaf and flower, loved the child and the pink
parasol as they wandered in the garden together, listening to the birds
and seeking the shady spots to rest in, or walking up and down the long
trim pathway in the sunshine. Yet the child tired of it all, and before
the summer was over, was always standing by the gate, watching the
straight white road that stretched across the plain.

"If I might but see the city, with the busy streets and the eager