egretted."

"It is ill put together, too;" said the Angel. "The parts do not fit."

"I never had any eye for proportion," said the man; "I admit it is
unfortunate."

"The whole thing is a botch," said the Angel. "You have put neither
brains nor heart into it, and the result is ridiculous failure. What do
you propose to do about it?"

"I credited you with more comprehension," said the man. "My faults, such
as they are, were born with me. I am sorry that you do not approve of
me, but this is the way I was made; do you see?"

"I see!" said the Angel. He put out a strong white hand, and taking the
man by the collar, tumbled him neck and crop into the ditch.

"What is the meaning of this?" cried the man, as he scrambled out
breathless and dripping. "I never saw such behavior. Do you see what you
have done? you have ruined my clothes, and nearly drowned me beside."

"Oh yes!" said the Angel: "this is the way _I_ was made."

THE PICTURE BOOK

"Brother," said the little boy, "show me a pretty picture book!"

"Nay!" said the brother. "I would rather show you this book with the
ugly pictures, so that when you come to see ugly things you may know
what they are. Look! see this, how hateful it is; and this, how hideous;
and here again, this, enough to turn one cold with horror."

"Oh!" said the child; and he shuddered. "They are horrible indeed; show
me more!"

Next day the brother found the child before a mirror, twisting his face
this way and that, squinting, and making a thousand horrible grimaces.

"My dear little boy," cried the brother, "why are you making yourself so
hideous?"

"I want to see if I can look like the pictures in the book!" said the
child.

THE FLOWER OF JOY

The white frost struck my garden, and blighted my flower of joy. Oh! it
was fair, and all the sweetness of the spring breathed from its cup; but
now it lay blackened and withered, and my heart with it.

Then, as I stood mourning, I heard another crying voice; and looking up
I saw my neighbour in her garden, bending over her stricken plants and
weeping sore. I hastened to her. "Take courage!" I said. "It may be they
are not quite dead: for, look! here lingers a little green along the
leaves. Look here again, the sap flows. Take heart, and we will work
together, you and I."

So I labored, and she with me, binding up, tending and watering, night
and day; till at last life came back to her plants, first faltering,
then flo