THE BIRD THAT WALKS ON THE WATER.

wind’s gentle breath will fan to life the silent streams, and beauty
will come forth wherever falls the music of his whispering voice.

The rose shall again breathe its sweetness on the soft air, and
from the bosom of the ground verdure shall spring forth. The
forest shall put on her robes of green, and welcome to her leafy
bowers the feathered harbingers of spring.

“The grass is soft, its velvet touch is grateful to the hand;

And, like the kiss of gentle love, the breeze is sweet and bland;

The daisy and the buttercup are nodding courteously,

It stirs their blood with kindest love to bless and welcome thee.

And’ mark how with thine own thin locks—they now are
silvery gray—

That blissful breeze is wantoning, and whispering, ‘ Be gay !’”

THE BIRD THAT WALKS ON THE WATER.

OME, Percy, let me show you a bird that walks on the
water,” said Aunt Helen.
She spoke to a boy who sat pouting on the carpet
because his mother would not let him go into the garden
while it was raining. Little boys are very unreasonable some-
times. Percy looked up, with a half-provoked, half-surprised
expression on his face.
“You're only fooling me, Aunt Helen.”
“ Come and see.”
“ Birds can’t walk on the water.”
“ Here’s the picture. Come and see for yourself.”
Percy got up slowly and came to where his aunt sat with an
open book in her hand.
“There, didn’t I tell you so?” said Aunt Helen, pointing to

the picture.
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