her.

In the morning the men of the tribe went to the mountain top in search
of Moneta and her sons. They were nowhere to be seen, but where the
tears of the lonely mother had fallen, there was a brightness that had
never been seen before. The tears were shining in the sunlight as if
each one of them was itself a little sun. Indeed, they were no longer
tears, but diamonds.

The dearest thing in all the world is the tear of mother-love, and that
is why the tears were made into diamonds, the stones that are brightest
and clearest of all the stones on the earth.

THE STORY OF THE FIRST PEARLS.

There was once a man named Runoia, and when he walked along the pathways
of the forest, the children would say shyly to one another, "Look, there
is the man who always hears music."

It was really true that wherever he went he could hear sweet music.
There are some kinds of music that every one can hear, but Runoia heard
sweet sounds where others heard nothing. When the lilies sang their
evening song to the stars, he could hear it, and when the mother tree
whispered "Good-night" to the little green leaves, he heard the music of
her whisper, though other men heard not a sound.

He was sorry for those other men, and he said to himself, "I will make a
harp, and then even if they cannot hear all the kinds of music, they
will hear the sweet voice of the harp."

This must have been a magic harp, for if one else touched it, no sound
was heard, but when Runoia touched the strings, the trees bent down
their branches to listen, the little blossoms put their heads out shyly,
and even the wind was hushed. All kinds of beasts and birds came about
him as he played, and the sun and the moon stood still in the heavens to
hear the wonderful music. All these beautiful things happened whenever
Runoia touched the strings.

Sometimes Runoia's music was sad. Then the sun and the moon hid their
faces behind the clouds, the wind sang mournfully, and the lilies bent
low their snow-white blossoms.

One day Runoia roamed far away till he came to the shores of the great
sea. The sun had set, darkness hid the sky and the water, not a star was
to be seen. Not a sound was heard but the wailing of the sea. No friend
was near. "I have no friends," he said. He laid his hand upon his harp,
and of themselves the strings gave forth sweet sounds, at first softly
and shyly. Then the sounds grew louder, and soon the world was full of
music, such as even