passed she left this rainbow-path of many tints shimmering in the heavens. When her errand was done, the path of colors disappeared. The Indians' belief about the rainbow is also beautiful. The many-colored flowers of earth blossom on hill and valley, filling the air with their beauty and fragrance. At last they fade away, and the earth knows them no longer; but they are not dead. The tender blossoms have been gathered by the angels, and planted in the fields of heaven; and when the rainbow appears, you may see them in all their beautiful hues. The violet, iris, daffodil, buttercup, rose, and moss all flash in that brilliant bow that embraces the earth like a scarf. So the Indians believe that the flowers which are so sweet and so beautiful here on earth, and which they love so much, are not lost, but only transplanted to the gardens of Paradise. Longfellow, the children's poet, in his famous poem, 66 The Song of Hiawatha," tells us that the little Hiawatha — "Saw the rainbow in the heavens, When on earth they fade and perish, Blossom in that heaven above us." You are made to be kind, boys, generous, magnanimous. If there is a boy in school who has a club-foot, don't let him know you ever saw it. If there is a boy with ragged clothes, don't talk about rags in his hearing. If there is a lame boy, give him. some part of the game which does not require running. If there is a hungry one, give him part of your dinner. If there is a dull one, help him to get his lesson. If there is a bright one, be not envious of him. - HORACE MANN. Our to-days and yesterdays are the blocks with which we build. TREASURE TROVE THROUGH Goethe HROUGH the forest idly, With a free and happy heart, Cowering in the shade I Bright as any star in heaven, Sweet as any eye. Down to pluck it, stooping, “Wherefore pluck me only To wither and to fade?" Up with roots I dug it, And in my garden plot at home I planted it anew, All in a still and shady place, Beside my home so dear, And now it thanks me for my pains, And blossoms all the year. |