A CROCUS STORY.

ARE you awake?" whispered a

little blue crocus to a white

one, who had been sleeping beside her under the earth for months.

Yes, wide awake, and warm all

through. I am sure it must be spring," the little white one answered.

'Oh, yes, this is spring," whispered blue.

"Our

shoots have been out a week, and all that time the sun has felt warm. Suppose we bloom, the earth will be so glad to see a flower again."

"I'm willing," said little white crocus. "I want nothing so much as to help make the world beautiful, and tell the people spring has come. Let us send round a crocus murmur to all the parks and big gardens in the city; then they will know it is time to wake up and bloom."

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Don't venture out yet," grumbled a tulip from her earth bed a few inches below the little crocus. March is only half gone, and you know old Winter will never let him alone. There will be very cold winds before April comes. You would better stay where you are and keep warm.”

"Dear! oh, dear!" sighed blue and white, "we dread the freezing winds. Perhaps, Miss Tulip, you are wrong. I am sure we ought to be out."

"Let us venture," urged a tiny pink crocus close by. "We can at least show Mr. Winter that spring has come, and that he must go away. Come, let us do our best, and not be afraid of a little cold."

So a crocus murmur went round to all the parks and gardens in the city, telling the little crocus flowers to wake up and bloom.

The next morning everything was beautified by thousands. of spring messengers holding up their tiny bell-cups to the sun; some white, some blue, some yellow, and some pink.

The earth was glad to hold on her breast again such beauty. Even the people passing stopped, smiled, and said, "Now spring has really come."

Alas! there was one who gave the flowers no welcome. It was Mr. Winter. "I feel indignant," he complained to March, "that such tiny little flowers dare come up and make me feel so much out of place. Now I suppose I must go; but before I leave, dear March, you must let me give them a fright and a chill."

"O Mr. Winter!" begged March, shivering and bewildered; "please leave me and go away. I can't control my winds when you keep interfering; you mix me all up. Here you come with snow and cold trying to kill the pretty green things that I have had so much trouble to wake out of the frozen ground."

Then Mr. Winter sent a gray snow cloud to cover the

sun, and breathed an icy air into the March wind. He laughed when a few feathery flakes settled on his nose.

Only a day more; give me just one day more, friend March," he begged. "I will then go and shut myself up in my big cave for a long nap."

March nodded his consent, and together they started like a wild express train. The whole thing was a frolic, after all. As the snow covered the flowers it whispered, "Do not fear, I will keep you folded warm until this cold wind blows Mr. Winter away."

The wind was not only merry, but busy also. It blew light green into all the willows, red into the maples, a faint white into the plum and apple buds; it tore the dead leaves away from the sweet arbutus; it took off men's hats; and the noses and cheeks that came in its way were painted a deep red.

By night Mr. Winter had departed. A soft breath of April filled the air. As it swept gently over the snow, it said, "Melt at once; you are sadly out of place, covering spring flowers."

With the morning came a perfect flood of sunshine and warmth, so the birds began to sing.

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"Oh, how glad I am," laughed the little blue crocus, that we came out just when we did!"

"I'm glad." "And so am I glad." And so are we glad," all the others answered.

indignant, — angry.

ELIZABETH MERIDETH REESE.

bewildered, — puzzled.

THE FIRST FLOWERS.

FOR ages on our river borders,

These tassels in their tawny bloom,

And willowly studs of downy silver,
Have prophesied of spring to come.

For ages have the unbound waters
Smiled on them from their pebbly hem,
And the clear carol of the robin
And song of bluebird welcomed them.

But never yet from smiling river,
Or song of early bird, have they
Been greeted with a gladder welcome
Than whispers from my heart to-day.

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

tawny, dusky yellow, like things tanned. prophesied, foretold.

ONE

NE morning Mother Nature looked about her and said, "My children have had a nice long rest, and it will do them good, for they have a busy summer before them. It is time to go to work now, and as some of the babies will not go to work till they have to, I must send for my helpers at once."

The long days carried her message, which in our language would have read something like this:

My dear Helpers: Sunbeams and Raindrops,

You are needed down here on earth. It is time to dress my plant children, and give them work to do. The birds must be called back from the South. The cocoons must be opened, so that my butterflies

can come out.