THE GRASS.

"DO THE DUTY WHICH LIES NEAREST TO THEE."

HAVE you ever heard of the pleasant story of the grass? Oh! I know you have not as it was told to me; for who ever discovered that the grass had a voice in its tiny waving? Well; one day a little girl was sitting at her cottage-door, not a wild, careless little girl, as you are sometimes; but one so gentle and so patient that every thing loved her. She was tired, for she had been busy all day helping her old grandmother, and she began to be just a little discontented, and to think if all other little girls had so much care as she had, and to wonder why little girls should not become old women at once, that they might be of some use; for now she could help her old grandmother no more than the grass at her feet could do good to the door-stone that it waved against. Was she very naughty? Remember, she did not say that she wanted to play all the time. Just then she heard a low whisper: it sounded like the wind, but softer and more

sweet. She listened carefully, and a little grassblossom seemed to say, as it waved by her ear, "You pity us, and you pity the young children; but we know what is right to do and we are happy. The old stone feels our gentle fanning, and it soothes her; and, when the sun makes her broad face too warm, we bend over her and shadow it. We do just what we know is right to do, and we are always happy. Sometimes, God is so kind that a little flower springs up among us; then we live in a beautiful fragrance. We are so careful not to harm it; and, when the dew falls, we bend our hollow leaves like tubes, and the drops glide down to her; and, when the sun is too warm, we make cool shadows fall upon her; and, when the wind is too cold and rude, we fold her so gently in our arms, that we rock her to sleep. And then when it dies, no, when it fades, for nothing ever died, it falls gently to the earth, and we weep and sigh over it; but we cannot sorrow long, for our breath has fanned another little blue flower to life so bright and beautiful that we think that it had the same soul that we loved before, and its blue eyes look into ours as if it knew us, and had only been home to rest.

"We humble things of life are so happy, we have only to do what God tells us, and there is

no harm. The word mortals call duty is not known to us; but we know we should fade and die, if we did not do what he bids us. The old trees, and the stars, and every thing in our world, know that the mortal children are not so wise. They fear and tremble, and sometimes dread to do what is right, and then they are sad; but we are never sad. If a rude thorn grows in our way, we creep close to him, and wave around him; and he loves us, and never wounds us. And, when we are trampled on, we never fear; for we know that the soft wind will raise us up again to-morrow, stronger than we were before.

"Ah! it is the little things in life that make others happy. Do you remember that old dark hill, that was so gloomy in the winter that it made you almost sad to see it? We have covered it so carefully with soft, warm green, that people say, when they ride by, Ah! what a beautiful place for a home! Let us always live there.' We crept so slowly day after day around him, and he was so rough that we almost despaired of making him look bright. But now he loves us, and lets the warm rain pour down his rough sides to meet us, till even his rude stones shine bright as the children's eyes with joy. Though we are little, we have to work fast and run far; and I should not have waited so