workmen deposited it on a
sunny corner as the place it was to occupy. It was glad to be there and
find itself useful and at rest; for it had been obliged to listen to the
remarks of the passers-by each day, and to endure their comments on its
misfortune.

"I suppose I shall never know any other life but this; so now, being
firmly set, I can sleep a little:" for the stone was sadly in need of
rest.

After what seemed to be a long period of repose, the stone awoke, with
new pulsations and finer emotions thrilling within it. The sound of
children's voices were heard in the air. How sweet and life-giving they
were! far more pleasant than the words of admiration which men uttered
when she was on the building's top. A new joy was hers also, for soft
hands were caressing her. Beautiful mosses had grown on her surface,
and delighted children were gathering them.

Useful and beautiful too! and the stone was silent with happiness.
She hoped the children would come again; and they did, bringing others
with them.

"I wonder how this beautiful moss grew on me," she said one day to
herself--at least she thought no one heard her. But an older stone
beside her replied, "By being perfectly quiet we become covered with
this lovely moss, firmer than grasses of any lawn."

The once vain stone grew to be perfectly contented, and never longed
for her former position. When the storms came, it knew it was close to
the earth. It had no fearful height to be pulled from, and the beautiful
lichens which grew upon its surface were far more ornamental than its
former carved and elegant adornings.

XX.

THE SEEDS.

They lay side by side one morning, while the gardener was preparing
the ground in which to plant them and many other varieties.

"Just think," said the more talkative one of the two, "how sad it is
that we are going to be put in that dismal ground! I shall not allow
myself to be buried out of sight this lovely morning."

"But," answered the more quiet seed by her side, "it is only for a brief
period that we shall lie there, and then we shall be far more beautiful."

"What care I for beauty for others to look at? I want my freedom,
and intend to have it, too. The wind is my friend, and I shall ask her
to waft me over to those lovely hills, where I can see something of the
world."

"I think it would be wiser to remain where we are, and let the gardener
care for us: he must know what is for our good," remarked the gen