eard the
stories and poetry read, and it made them wiser and better; for all
that was written had a good and sensible meaning, and a great blessing
was contained in the words on this paper.

"I never imagined anything like this," said the paper, "when I was
only a little blue flower, growing in the fields. How could I fancy
that I should ever be the means of bringing knowledge and joy to
man? I cannot understand it myself, and yet it is really so. Heaven
knows that I have done nothing myself, but what I was obliged to do
with my weak powers for my own preservation; and yet I have been
promoted from one joy and honor to another. Each time I think that the
song is ended; and then something higher and better begins for me. I
suppose now I shall be sent on my travels about the world, so that
people may read me. It cannot be otherwise; indeed, it is more than
probable; for I have more splendid thoughts written upon me, than I
had pretty flowers in olden times. I am happier than ever."

But the paper did not go on its travels; it was sent to the
printer, and all the words written upon it were set up in type, to
make a book, or rather, many hundreds of books; for so many more
persons could derive pleasure and profit from a printed book, than
from the written paper; and if the paper had been sent around the
world, it would have been worn out before it had got half through
its journey.

"This is certainly the wisest plan," said the written paper; "I
really did not think of that. I shall remain at home, and be held in
honor, like some old grandfather, as I really am to all these new
books. They will do some good. I could not have wandered about as they
do. Yet he who wrote all this has looked at me, as every word flowed
from his pen upon my surface. I am the most honored of all."

Then the paper was tied in a bundle with other papers, and
thrown into a tub that stood in the washhouse.

"After work, it is well to rest," said the paper, "and a very good
opportunity to collect one's thoughts. Now I am able, for the first
time, to think of my real condition; and to know one's self is true
progress. What will be done with me now, I wonder? No doubt I shall
still go forward. I have always progressed hitherto, as I know quite
well."

Now it happened one day that all the paper in the tub was taken
out, and laid on the hearth to be burnt. People said it could not be
sold at the shop, to wrap up butter and sugar, because it had bee