he could not get her; and
that she should have been won by another, was the worst of all. The
top still twirled about and hummed, but he continued to think of the
ball; and the more he thought of her, the more beautiful she seemed to
his fancy.

Thus several years passed by, and his love became quite old. The
top, also, was no longer young; but there came a day when he looked
handsomer than ever; for he was gilded all over. He was now a golden
top, and whirled and danced about till he hummed quite loud, and was
something worth looking at; but one day he leaped too high, and then
he, also, was gone. They searched everywhere, even in the cellar,
but he was nowhere to be found. Where could he be? He had jumped
into the dust-bin, where all sorts of rubbish were lying:
cabbage-stalks, dust, and rain-droppings that had fallen down from the
gutter under the roof.

"Now I am in a nice place," said he; "my gilding will soon be
washed off here. Oh dear, what a set of rabble I have got amongst!"
And then he glanced at a curious round thing like an old apple,
which lay near a long, leafless cabbage-stalk. It was, however, not an
apple, but an old ball, which had lain for years in the gutter, and
was soaked through with water.

"Thank goodness, here comes one of my own class, with whom I can
talk," said the ball, examining the gilded top. "I am made of
morocco," she said. "I was sewn together by a young lady, and I have a
Spanish cork in my body; but no one would think it, to look at me now.
I was once engaged to a swallow; but I fell in here from the gutter
under the roof, and I have lain here more than five years, and have
been thoroughly drenched. Believe me, it is a long time for a young
maiden."

The top said nothing, but he thought of his old love; and the more
she said, the more clear it became to him that this was the same ball.

The servant then came to clean out the dust-bin.

"Ah," she exclaimed, "here is a gilt top." So the top was
brought again to notice and honor, but nothing more was heard of the
little ball. He spoke not a word about his old love; for that soon
died away. When the beloved object has lain for five years in a
gutter, and has been drenched through, no one cares to know her
again on meeting her in a dust-bin.

THE TRAVELLING COMPANION

Poor John was very sad; for his father was so ill, he had no
hope of his recovery. John sat alone with the sick man in the little
room, and the lamp had