"Once a gentle, snow-white birdie,
Came and built its nest,
In a spot you'd never dream of,--
In a baby's breast.
Then how happy, gentle, loving,
Grew the baby, Grace;
All the smiles and all the dimples
Brightened in her face.
But a black and ugly raven
Came one morn that way;
Came and drove the gentle birdie.
From its nest away.
Ah! how frowning and unlovely
Was our Gracie then.
Until evening brought the white dove
To its nest again.
Children, this was Gracie's raven,
This her gentle dove,--
In heart a naughty _temper_
Drove away the _love_."
[Illustration: {A BEE.}]
Among the passengers on board a river-steamer recently was a woman,
accompanied by a bright-looking nurse-girl, and a self-willed boy,
about three years old.
The boy aroused the indignation of the passengers by his continued
shrieks and kicks and screams, and his viciousness toward the patient
nurse. He tore her bonnet, scratched her hands, without a word of
remonstrance from the mother.
Whenever the nurse showed any firmness, the mother would chide her
sharply, and say,--"Let him have it, Mary. Let him alone."
Finally the mother composed herself for a nap; and about the time the
boy had slapped the nurse for the fiftieth time, a bee came sailing in
and flew on the window of the nurse's seat. The boy at once tried to
catch it.
The nurse caught his hand, and said, coaxingly:
"Harry mustn't touch. It will bite Harry."
Harry screamed savagely, and began to kick and pound the nurse.
The mother, without opening her eyes or lifting her head, cried out,
sharply:
"Why will you tease that child so, Mary? Let him have what he wants at
once."
"But, ma'am, it's a--"
"Let him have it, I say."
Thus encouraged, Harry clutched at the bee and caught it. The yell
that followed brought tears of joy to the passengers.
The mother awoke again.
"Mary!" she cried, "let him have it."