"'But,' said the grass, 'you spring up in the night, and in a day or two you are gone. It takes me a year to grow, but I outlive a hundred crops of mushrooms. I will have patience and be content. Worth is of slow growth.' "In a week the boastful little mushroom was gone, but the grass bloomed and bore seed, and left a lovely memory behind it. Hark! hear the breeze in the trees! Nature is teaching now. Listen! "Now I will tell you another little story, such as I used to hear Pestalozzi relate. I am going to tell this story to myself, but you may listen. I have told a story to you, but now I will talk to myself. "There once was a king, who had been riding in the sun, and he saw afar a lime-tree, full of cool, green leaves. Oh, how refreshing it looked to him! So he rode up to the lime-tree, and rested in the shadow. "The leaves all clung to the branches, and the winds whispered among them, but did not blow them away. "Then the king loved the tree, and he said: "'O tree, would that my people clung to me as thy leaves do to thy branches!' "The tree was pleased, and spoke: "'Would you learn from me wisdom to govern thy people?' "'Yes, O lime-tree! Speak on.' "'Would you know, then, what makes my leaves so cling to my branches?' "'Yes, O Lime Tree! Speak on.' "'I carry to them the sap that nourishes them. 'Tis he that gives himself to others that lives in others, and is safe and happy himself. Do that, and thy kingdom shall be a lime-tree.'" A child brought into the room a bunch of harebells and laid them upon the teacher's desk. "Look!" said Jasper, "Nature is teaching. Let us be quiet a little and hear what she has to say. The harebells bring us good-will from the sun and skies. There is goodness everywhere, and for all. Let us be grateful. "Now I will give you another little Pestalozzian story, told in my own way, and you may tell it to your fathers and mothers and neighbors when you go home. "There was once a man who had two little ponies. They were pretty creatures, and just alike. He sold one of them to a hard-hearted man, who kicked him and beat him; and the pony said: "'The man is my enemy. I will be his, and become a cunning and vicious horse.' "So the pony became cunning and vicious, and threw his rider and crippled him, and grew spavined and old, and every one was glad when he was dead. "The man sold the other pony to a noble-hearted man, who treated him kindly and well. Then the pony said: "'I am proud of my master. I will become a good horse, and my master's will shall be my own.' "Like the master became the horse. He became strong and beautiful. They chose him for the battle, and he went through the wars, and the master slept by his side. He bore his master at last in a triumphal procession, and all the people were sorry when he came to die. Our minds here are one of the little colts.