all the old love-light beaming from her soft, gentle eyes, she
turned to gaze at her poor desolate mate, who was rending the air with
his piteous cries, then closed them for ever, with a look of perfect
peace, murmuring softly,--

'Dearest, forget me not.'

And the rippling stream bore her gently away echoing with a plaintive
wail her dying words:

'Dearest, forget me not.'

The poor widowed bird caught the flowers as they were floating away on
the breast of his lost love, and carried them to his now desolate home;
but one little blossom, in tender pity for sweet Jenny Wren, detached
itself from the others to linger still with the poor dead bird; and when
the stream had carefully borne its precious burden to a shady nook,
where she could rest, for ever freed from sorrow and pain, the flower
was carried with her, and, taking root above the spot where she lay
buried, put forth its blue blossoms in loving remembrance of that fond,
faithful heart.

And thus it is how we became dwellers close to tranquil streams, and why
our name is still 'forget-me-not.'

PARABLE SECOND.

THE SNOWDROP--FAITH.

My life has been so tranquil, that I fear it will not possess much
interest; for, when first recollection dawned, I remember finding myself
far down in the earth--a small bulb, not much to look at, I am thinking.
But very happy were the days spent there with my companions. We in our
ignorance deemed the world a dreary place, and wished we could for ever
stay where it was so cosy and warm; but our Mother Earth was carefully
instructing us, teaching us the same precious lessons she unfolds to her
other children, if they will but read the ever-open book, by man called
'Nature.'

I know not how long it was that the Frost King kept the land bound
captive in icy chains, but at last the signal for freedom came. The
trees awoke from their winter sleep, and, casting off their sombre
garments of sheathed leaves, came forth in vestments of tender green;
the bees, too, sent out their pioneers, who hastened back to the hives
with the glad tidings of the sunshine and of awakening flowers. The
birds flew hither and thither on joyous wings, twittering their simple
gratitude to Him who 'heareth the ravens cry;' for they indeed were
thankful that the dark days were past, and that 'the time of the singing
of birds had come.' As to the little brooks and streams, how rejoiced
were they to be free once more! they bounded away over the s