Then the flower lifted up its voice and said: "Thank you, clouds,—good clouds,—you have saved my life." But the clouds answered, "Thank not us; thank the sun. It saw you dying and called us from the ocean. The winds heard you sighing, and brought us here to help you." Then the little flower turned to the wind and the sun. The wind bent down to the earth, and stopped for a moment to hear its words. The sun sent down its beams to receive the flower's message. "Thank you, wind,—good wind," said the little flower. "Thank you, sun,—good sun,—you have saved my life." "Thank not us," said the sun and the wind; "thank the good God. He saw you dying; He heard you sighing, He took pity on you. We, sun and winds and clouds and falling raindrops are only the givers of His bounty." And the flower breathed a prayer of thanks to the great and good God. PANSIES Pansies! pansies! How I love you, pansies, Jaunty-faced, laughing-lipped and dewy-eyed with glee; Would my song might blossom out in little five-leaved stanzas As delicate in fancies, As your beauty is to me. JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY. From the Biographical Edition of the complete works of James Whitcomb Riley. Copyright 1913. Used by special permission of the publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Company. THE LITTLE HEARTSEASE One morning a king went into his garden for a walk. He noticed that the trees and flowers were drooped and somewhat withered. Turning to a great branching oak tree, his majesty said, "Tell me what has happened to my garden?" "Sire," moaned the oak tree, "I am most unhappy. See how thick my trunk is and how gnarled and twisted my great branches are. Now the pine tree, which stands at the other end of the garden, is a picture of grace and beauty. How tall and slender the stem is, and what dainty needles—like leaves—adorn the branches." The king walked on until he came to the pine tree. As he drew near he heard a deep sigh. "What troubles you, slender pine tree?" he asked. "Sire," replied the pine, "I've been wishing for many a day that I could bear luscious grapes such as ripen on the vine which trails over the garden wall. To bear rich clusters of purple fruit must, indeed, bring great happiness." The king walked on until he came to the garden wall where the grapevine trailed. But he saw that the vine was withering and slipping down from the wall. "What a rich harvest of fruit you bear this autumn!" said the king, going close to the grapevine. But, to his surprise, he heard a deep sigh and the grapevine said, "It is very hard to be obliged to cling to a garden wall for support. I should like to stand erect in the sunlight where all could see my ripe fruit." And the vine looked longingly at a peach tree which stood near.