This gentle Friedrich loved more and more things every day that he lived. But when he was a little boy he was very lonely sometimes, because he had no playmates except the flowers in the old garden. It seemed to him these flowers were always playing plays together. The little pink and white ones on the border of the beds seemed always circling round the sweet tall rose, and laughing and swaying in the wind. It was so gay sometimes that he laughed aloud to see them all nodding and bowing, and the rose bowing too. Friedrich was so gentle that his doves would flutter around his head and settle on his outstretched arms, and even the little mother bird, with her nest in the hedge, would let him stand near when she told little stories to her babies. Friedrich had no dear mother, but he had a tall, strong brother who would sometimes take him to the sweet wide meadows and tell him beautiful stories about the strange little bugs and busy bees, and stones and flowers. But after awhile Friedrich's father thought he was growing too old to play all day long. So he said to him one day, "Friedrich, you must begin to learn." When Friedrich heard this he was glad, because he wanted to know about all the wonderful things in the world. But when he had to sit still for long hours and learn out of large books that hadn't a single picture, it was very hard. "But there is no other way, little Friedrich," his teachers told him. As the time went on he grew as tall and strong as his brother. And then what do you think happened? Just the same thing that happened to our America when George Washington led out all the brave men. Friedrich's dear Germany was in great trouble, and she called to all her brave men to come and save her. And Friedrich marched away with all the others--marching, marching, with the drums beating and the flags flying. Then after a long while, when peace had come back and all was quiet and joyful again, there came to Friedrich a sweet thought that grew and grew. Can you think what it was? It was half about his old garden and the playing flowers, and half about little children. Whenever he saw a child tear a flower or stone a bird he felt sad, and this thought would grow stronger in his heart. Sometimes he would gather up all the children and take them to the meadow, and teach them about the leaves and stones, the flowers and birds and ants, as his brother used to teach him, and then they would play the very plays the wind and flowers and birds had played. So he called it his kindergarten,--his child-garden,--and he began to show to the whole world that little children must learn and grow in the same sweet way that flowers do. And he worked years and years, teaching and working out this wonderful message that had come to him. He loved God and children and this shining thought better than himself, and he wore poor clothes and gave up things, that the beautiful deed might live in the world.