carefully than the apple-branch had ever been.
Very cautiously the large leaves were removed, and there appeared
the feathery seed-crown of the despised dandelion. This was what the
lady had so carefully plucked, and carried home so safely covered,
so that not one of the delicate feathery arrows of which its mist-like
shape was so lightly formed, should flutter away. She now drew it
forth quite uninjured, and wondered at its beautiful form, and airy
lightness, and singular construction, so soon to be blown away by
the wind.

"See," she exclaimed, "how wonderfully God has made this little
flower. I will paint it with the apple-branch together. Every one
admires the beauty of the apple-bough; but this humble flower has been
endowed by Heaven with another kind of loveliness; and although they
differ in appearance, both are the children of the realms of beauty."

Then the sunbeam kissed the lowly flower, and he kissed the
blooming apple-branch, upon whose leaves appeared a rosy blush.

BEAUTY OF FORM AND BEAUTY OF MIND

There was once a sculptor, named Alfred, who having won the
large gold medal and obtained a travelling scholarship, went to Italy,
and then came back to his native land. He was young at that
time--indeed, he is young still, although he is ten years older than he
was then. On his return, he went to visit one of the little towns in
the island of Zealand. The whole town knew who the stranger was; and
one of the richest men in the place gave a party in his honor, and all
who were of any consequence, or who possessed some property, were
invited. It was quite an event, and all the town knew of it, so that
it was not necessary to announce it by beat of drum. Apprentice-boys,
children of the poor, and even the poor people themselves, stood
before the house, watching the lighted windows; and the watchman
might easily fancy he was giving a party also, there were so many
people in the streets. There was quite an air of festivity about
it, and the house was full of it; for Mr. Alfred, the sculptor, was
there. He talked and told anecdotes, and every one listened to him
with pleasure, not unmingled with awe; but none felt so much respect
for him as did the elderly widow of a naval officer. She seemed, so
far as Mr. Alfred was concerned, to be like a piece of fresh
blotting-paper that absorbed all he said and asked for more. She
was very appreciative, and incredibly ignorant--a kind of female
Gaspar