"No wasted," said the fairy; "you know yourself better than you did yesterday--do you not?"
"Indeed, I do; and therefore I think I shall succeed better to-day, if you will give me some more eggs."
"Oh, yes," said the fairy; and taking the form of a squirrel, she ran up the tree in which the eggs were concealed, and which was not far distant, and presently returned with five of them in her cheeks, which she gave to Lizzy, and then ran up the tree again, and sat chattering on a high bough. As Lizzy walked on her way homewards, she pa.s.sed by a low meadow, where she saw a little girl gathering cowslips, or May-blobs for greens. She had a peck-basket beside her, and Lizzy asked her if she meant to fill that great basket with greens. The girl told her she should have to fill it twice, and carry them into town to sell. A glad thought leaped into Lizzy"s heart. "I mean to try and help her to gather them," said she to herself. When she offered to do it, the little girl seemed quite pleased, and so Lizzy went to work very industriously, and broke off the leaves and buds of the May-blobs, and the little girl"s basket began to fill very fast; and they talked together while they picked, and the little girls soon became very well acquainted with each other. The little girl told Lizzy how many brothers and sisters she had, and how many hens and chickens, and what all their names were; and Lizzy told the little girl how many brothers and sisters she had, and how many rabbits and Canary birds, and what all their names were; and the little girl told Lizzy how many funny things her hens and chickens did; and Lizzy told the little girl many knowing things that her canaries did; and Lizzy felt as happy while she picked the May-blobs, as the bright yellow blossoms themselves looked. And now the basket is full, and the little girl is glad her morning"s task is done, before the sun is up so high as to be too warm; she is not going to pick another basket till towards night;--and now Lizzy feels the egg-sh.e.l.l crack in her bosom, and she and the little girl laugh to see a full-grown yellow-bird fly out, and, alighting upon Lizzy"s shoulder, pour out his pleasant song.
"How he sings!" said the little girl.
"He is thanking me for his existence," said Lizzy; for she had told the little girl all about the fairy eggs. "Come now, let me take your basket, if you are going the same way that I am; for I know you are tired, and I am not."
"That is where I live," said the little girl, pointing to a house about an eighth of a mile distant.
"Ah!" said Lizzy, "that is not much out of my way; I think I shall be home in good time." And she put another egg into her bosom, and taking the basket, accompanied the little girl home, telling her she would perhaps come and help her again at night; and just as the children were saying good-bye, a hen yellow-bird flew out of Lizzy"s bosom, and the other one which had followed on, went gladly to meet her. "Ah! there is a little yellow mate for him," cried Lizzy; and she held out her arm, and the hen yellow-bird alighted upon it, and sat there while her mate stood by her side and gave her his prettiest song. The little girl went into the house, and Lizzy, first putting another egg into her bosom, walked on, the two birds flying around her as she went, and the male now and then stopping to trill his notes upon a shrub or tree. When Lizzy reached home, she was met by Hero, her brother"s dog, and not in the most pleasant manner imaginable. He had just come out of a muddy ditch, and with his wet, black paws, up he leaped upon her nice, clean ap.r.o.n.
"Be still, Hero; down, down, sir," said Lizzy; but Hero"s expressions of joy were not so easily quieted. Lizzy took up a stick and was going to beat him, for she felt very angry; but she controlled herself, and throwing down the stick, took hold of Hero"s collar and held him down till he became more quiet. When she went into the house the two yellow-birds flew up and alighted upon a cherry tree, which was close by her chamber window, and when she went into her chamber, how pleasant was the song that met her ear! But why did not the other egg hatch! Lizzy waited and waited, and towards night her patience became exhausted, and she broke the sh.e.l.l. Oh, how glad she was it did not hatch! how glad she was that she did not beat poor Hero, because he welcomed her rather too rudely. A dead hornet was in the egg sh.e.l.l.
Lizzy"s heart was full of grat.i.tude and love when she laid herself down to rest at night. She loved the little girl she had helped, and she felt penitent and humble when she thought how angry she had been with Hero, and grateful when she thought of the escape she had made; and she felt very grateful and happy when she thought of the two yellow-birds she should have to sing at her window. She took the two remaining eggs in her hands and held them up against her bosom, and while she was going to sleep, sweet thoughts of love and beauty floated about in her mind; and when the song of her yellow-birds awoke her in the morning--Oh, what was she pressing to her bosom? A pair of white doves! and they nestled and cooed in her bosom, and when she arose she let them play around the chamber. Unlike the dark, filmy wings of the bat, their white pinions whistled as they flew, and Lizzy thought, "Oh, how sweet it will be to have these to nestle in my bosom every night, and the yellow-birds to awaken me in the morning!"
[Ill.u.s.tration]
[Ill.u.s.tration]
ELLEN.
A TRUE STORY.
She looked into my eyes, Her own were filled with tears;-- A loving and a thoughtful child, Disturbed by dreamy fears.
She said--"Oh! mother dear!
I dread that I shall die Too soon, and go to heaven alone, And leave _you_ here to cry!"
"My darling! if you do, You will be always blest; The angels there will play with you, And lull you, love, to rest!"
"Oh, no! it may be bright, A pleasant place and fair; But how can I be glad, and play?
_I"ll have no mother there!_"
"My Ellen! if you stay In this sad world of ours, You"ll often weep woe"s bitter tears Above its fairest flowers!"
"Dear mother! _yet_ I"d stay; For oh! so much I love you, I"d rather grieve with _you_, on earth, Than joy, in heaven, above you!"
[Ill.u.s.tration]
PHILOSOPHY IN COMMON THINGS.
CORKING THE KETTLE SPOUT UP.
MR. W. Tom, have you brought the small cork I told you to bring?
TOM. Yes, father; here it is.
MR. W. Put it in the kettle spout.
TOM. Why, it blows it out again, as soon as it is in.
MR. W. You did not half press it in. Hold it fast--press with all your strength.
TOM. See there--the lid is blown off!
MR. W. Blown off! How is this?--n.o.body has put gunpowder into the kettle!
ELLA. I am sure there is nothing but clean water; I saw it put in.
MR. W. But, is it not very extraordinary that simple, clean water, should blow the kettle lid off?
TOM. Not at all, father. When you told us about the expansion of cold water below forty degrees, we wondered, because we could not think ice was more bulky than water; but there seems no reason to doubt, that the hotter water becomes, the more room it takes up.
MR. W. How does the heat of the fire do this?
TOM. By expanding it.
MR. W. We know that; but how?
TOM. By driving the particles of steam farther and farther asunder.
MR. W. Precisely. The moment the particles of a drop of water become steam, they occupy eighteen hundred times as much room as they did before.
TOM. And press the lid eighteen hundred times more forcibly than water?
MR. W. Its force is altogether irresistible. If this kettle were composed of iron, an inch thick or more, if steam could not escape, it would burst it with ease.
TOM. Is that the reason why steam boilers burst?
MR. W. It is one reason, but not the princ.i.p.al one. If the water in the kettle were all boiled out, and it was full of steam, and we corked it tightly up, and soldered the lid down, and still kept the fire blazing fiercely about it, it would burst at the weakest part: perhaps the lid would fly off, or the side burst: the steam would rush out, and, if we were near, we might be scalded.
TOM. Then, when a boiler grows old and thin, if the pressure is very great, it bursts in the weakest part?
MR. W. Just so; and ingenious men have made some portion of the boiler of a weaker metal--so that, if it burst from the pressure of the steam, it should hurt no one.
AMELIA. I cannot understand what you mean.
MR. W. You see this kettle on the fire:--if we cork up the spout, and fasten the lid down, and let it boil, it will, probably, blow the cork out, and hit some of you; but if, at the back part of the kettle that touches the chimney, we have a part of it made of lead, or tin, it will explode there.
AMELIA. Oh! I see now.