(FROM THE GERMAN)[2]

[Footnote 2: From Deutsches Drittes Lesebuch, by W. H. Weick and C.
Grebner. Copyright, 1886, by Van Antwerp, Bragg & Co. American Book
Company, publishers.]

There were once three little butterfly brothers, one white, one red, and
one yellow. They played in the sunshine, and danced among the flowers in
the garden, and they never grew tired because they were so happy.

One day there came a heavy rain, and it wet their wings. They flew away
home, but when they got there they found the door locked and the key
gone. So they had to stay out of doors in the rain, and they grew wetter
and wetter.

By and by they flew to the red and yellow striped tulip, and said:
"Friend Tulip, will you open your flower-cup and let us in till the
storm is over?"

The tulip answered: "The red and yellow butterflies may enter, because
they are like me, but the white one may not come in."

But the red and yellow butterflies said: "If our white brother may not
find shelter in your flowercup, why, then, we'll stay outside in the
rain with him."

It rained harder and harder, and the poor little butterflies grew wetter
and wetter, so they flew to the white lily and said: "Good Lily, will
you open your bud a little so we may creep in out of the rain?"

The lily answered: "The white butterfly may come in, because he is like
me, but the red and yellow ones must stay outside in the storm."

Then the little white butterfly said: "If you won't receive my red and
yellow brothers, why, then, I'll stay out in the rain with them. We
would rather be wet than be parted."

So the three little butterflies flew away.

But the sun, who was behind a cloud, heard it all, and he knew what good
little brothers the butterflies were, and how they had held together in
spite of the wet. So he pushed his face through the clouds, and chased
away the rain, and shone brightly on the garden.

He dried the wings of the three little butterflies, and warmed their
bodies. They ceased to sorrow, and danced among the flowers till
evening, then they flew away home, and found the door wide open.

THE WATER-DROP

BY FRIEDRICH WILHELM CAROVE'

(ADAPTED FROM THE TRANSLATION BY SARAH AUSTIN)

There was once a child who lived in a little hut, and in the hut there
was nothing but a little bed and a looking-glass; but as soon as the
first sunbeam glided softly through the casement and kissed his sweet
eyelids, and the finch and the linnet w