innkeeper immediately bought the
well-known sign of the Ass, and by this means attracted to his inn all
travellers. The other then perceived his want of foresight; and in order
to remedy it, he had written at the foot of the portrait of the Prince
of Denmark, '_This is the original Ass._'

ETHEL'S ORANGE-PLANT.

'My little orange-tree is coming up! It has put out two leaves since
yesterday!' said Ethel, joyously, as she put the precious pot on the
rustic table in the arbour, which in the summer holidays was the
favourite sitting-room of Ethel and her sister May. 'I am so glad. I
wonder when it will begin to bear oranges,' and Ethel already saw, in
imagination, the tiny shoot, with its twin green leaves, growing into a
bushy tree, weighed down with golden fruit!

'Here comes May,' she continued. 'May, May! isn't it nice? My orange has
two leaves!'

May, however, was in no humour to rejoice with her little sister. Her
orange-pip, planted at the same time, showed no signs of life whatever,
and now to hear of Ethel's plant putting forth leaves was too much; and
so her only answer was to say crossly, 'What have you brought the stupid
thing here for? I want the table for my scrap-book.'

'Oh, let it stop,' pleaded little Ethel. 'The sun always leaves the
schoolroom window at ten o'clock, and orange-trees want so much sun.
There is plenty of room for your desk and the pot.'

May did not answer, but she pettishly pushed the plant to one side, and
placed her scrap-book on the table with a bang.

'There is not room,' she said at last; 'where is my desk to go with that
great plant blocking up everything? Take it back to the schoolroom,
Ethel,' and not looking at the plant, she carelessly pushed it to one
side--too much to one side, for it fell to the ground and was broken to
pieces, the heavy scrap-book falling on top of it.

'Oh, my plant! my beautiful plant is broken!' cried Ethel. 'I shall
never see the oranges grow on it,' and she covered her face with her
hands and sobbed bitterly.

'What is the matter? Are you hurt, dear?' asked her mother, hurrying up
from a flower-bed where she was planting out seedlings.

'It's the orange-plant!' sobbed Ethel; 'but May did not mean to break
it,' she added loyally.

'Oh, dear, what a pity!' said Mrs. Randen, as she carefully lifted the
plant in its broken pot, and placed it on the table. 'How came you to be
so careless, May?'

'I--I don't know,' stammered May, and sh