ad and bright,
that Nelly began to make her garden.

Her father had dug the ground and made it ready for her, and so she
took her little red basket full of seeds of different kinds, each kind
tied up by itself and labelled, and down in the little beds she
dropped candy-tuft, and phlox, and lady-slippers.

How happy she was at her work! Her cheeks were the color of ripe
peaches, her eyes were as sweet as twin violets, and her little mouth
was like a fresh rosebud, but better and brighter far than the cheeks
and lips was the light of kindness that shone in her eyes.

Her sister Jennie, who sat sewing by the window, watched her with
loving interest.

"Mother," she said, at length, looking up from her work, "do you know
what a generous little girl our Nelly would be if she was only a rich
man's child?"

"Is she not generous now, Jennie?" asked her mother.

"Oh yes, surely she is. But I was thinking how much good she would do,
and how much she would give away, if only we were not poor."

She saw that her mother was smiling softly to herself.

"She gives away more now, of course, than some rich children do. Just
think how faithfully she works in that little garden, so as to have
flowers to give away! I do not believe there is a house anywhere near
us into which sickness or poverty comes where her simple flowers will
not go."

"Did you ever think, dear Jennie, of the other garden which Nelly
weeds and waters every day?"

"No, mother. What garden do you mean?"

"The garden of her heart, my dear child. You know that the rain which
the clouds take from the lakes and rivers comes back to refresh and
beautify our fields and gardens; and so it is with our little Nelly's
good deeds and kind, loving words. She gives away more than a handful
of violets, for with them goes a bright smile, which is like sunshine
to the sick heart. She gives more than a bunch of roses, for with them
always goes a kind word. And doing these little things, she gets a
large reward. Her own heart grows richer."

A STRANGE COMBAT.

We are told that the old Romans greatly delighted in witnessing the
combats of wild beasts, as well as gladiators, and that they used to
ransack their whole broad empire for new and unheard-of
animals--anything and everything that had fierceness and fight in it.
Those vast amphitheatres, like the Coliseum, were built to gratify
these rather sanguinary tastes in that direction.

But I doubt whether even the