And often as he sighed: “Alas!” the grieving Echo from the wood answered: “Alas!” With his last breath he looked into the water and sighed: “Ah, youth beloved, farewell!” and Echo sighed: “Farewell!” And Narcissus, laying his weary head upon the grass, closed his eyes forever. The Water-Nymphs wept for him, and the Wood-Dryads lamented him, and Echo resounded their mourning. But when they sought his body it had vanished away, and in its stead had grown up by the brink of the stream a little flower, with silver leaves and golden heart,--and thus was born to earth the woodland flower, Narcissus. MOTHERS' DAY (SECOND SUNDAY IN MAY) THE LARK AND ITS YOUNG ONES A HINDU FABLE BY P. V. RAMASWAMI RAJU (ADAPTED) A child went up to a lark and said: “Good lark, have you any young ones?” “Yes, child, I have,” said the mother lark, “and they are very pretty ones, indeed.” Then she pointed to the little birds and said: “This is Fair Wing, that is Tiny Bill, and that other is Bright Eyes.” “At home, we are three,” said the child, “myself and two sisters. Mother says that we are pretty children, and she loves us.” To this the little larks replied: “Oh, yes, OUR mother is fond of us, too.” “Good mother lark,” said the child, “will you let Tiny Bill go home with me and play?” Before the mother lark could reply, Bright Eyes said: “Yes, if you will send your little sister to play with us in our nest.” “Oh, she will be so sorry to leave home,” said the child; “she could not come away from our mother.” “Tiny Bill will be so sorry to leave our nest,” answered Bright Eyes, “and he will not go away from OUR mother.” Then the child ran away to her mother, saying: “Ah, every one is fond of home!” CORNELIA'S JEWELS BY JAMES BALDWIN [3] [Footnote 3: From Fifty Famous Stories Retold. Copyright, 1896, by American Book Company.] It was a bright morning in the old city of Rome many hundred years ago. In a vine-covered summer-house in a beautiful garden, two boys were standing. They were looking at their mother and her friend, who were walking among the flowers and trees. “Did you ever see so handsome a lady as our mother's friend?” asked the younger boy, holding his tall brother's hand. “She looks like a queen.” “Yet she is not so beautiful as our mother,” said the elder boy. “She has a fine dress, it is true; but her face is not noble and kind. It is our mother who is like a queen.” “That is true,” said the other. “There is no woman in Rome so much like a queen as our own dear mother.” Soon Cornelia, their mother, came down the walk to speak with them. She was simply dressed in a plain, white robe. Her arms and feet were bare, as was the custom in those days; and no rings or chains glittered about her hands and neck. For her only crown, long braids of soft brown hair were coiled about her head; and a tender smile lit up her noble face as she looked into her sons' proud eyes. “Boys,” she said, “I have something to tell you.”