tree up-stairs to the garret. It was thrown on the floor in a dark corner. It stayed there for weeks, all alone. "I wish this place were not so dark and lonely," thought the pine-tree. How pleasant it was out in the forest when the little hare ran by! Oh, it is so lonely here!" "Squeak, squeak!" cried a little mouse. It crept up to the tree. Then came another. They sniffed at its branches. "Where do you come from?" asked the mice. "I come from the forest where the sun shines and the birds sing," answered the pine-tree. Then it told the mice all about its home in the forest. "How many things you have seen!" said they. "You must have been very happy." 66 'Yes, those were happy days," it answered. The next night four other mice came to listen. The pine-tree told them about Christmas Eve and Humpty Dumpty. "I don't like that story," said one. "Can't you tell one about cheese or something else good to eat? 56 No," answered the tree. So off they ran and left it more lonely than ever. One morning the servants cleaned the garret. The tree was thrown into the back yard. It was spring. "Twit, twit, twit," sang the birds. "Now I shall live!" cried the tree. But its branches were all yellow and dead. The gold star still clung to the top of the tree. Two of the merry children who had danced round the tree at Christmas were playing near. The youngest saw the star and ran and pulled it off the tree. "Look what is sticking to the ugly old pinetree!" said the child. By this time the tree wished itself back in the garret. It thought of the forest, of the merry Christmas evening, of the little mice. "Oh, why did I not know when I was happy!" it cried. Then a boy came and chopped it up into firewood. He put the sticks of wood into a fire under the copper kettle. The wood was very dry and it blazed up brightly. Then the children seated themselves before the fire, and cried, "Pop! pop!" The tree had a happy end after all, and so does our story. Adapted. THEY DIDN'T THINK BY PHOEBE CARY Once a trap was baited First he took a nibble, Then he took a bite; Close the trap together JAMES WATT I "Bubble, bubble, bubble," sings the big black tea-kettle. "Puff-f-f," comes the white steam. That sounds like a good story, doesn't it? We shall see. It is half-past five on a cold winter afternoon. James Watt is sitting beside the big fireplace where a hot fire is burning. Over the fire hangs the iron tea-kettle, bubbling away. James is very quiet for a ten-year-old boy. He has hardly moved for half an hour. See, he is looking straight at the tea-kettle. think he is asleep? No, indeed, he is not. what is he doing? Do Do you Then "Bubble, bubble, bubble," sings our tea-kettle again. The steam lifts the lid, and out slide some drops of hot water. "Puff-f-f," comes the white steam out of the spout. James moves in his seat, but keeps looking at the tea-kettle. Perhaps he is looking for a fairy to come out of the steam. |