crowds," he was always saying to himself.

Then all that lived in the garden knew that the child would not be with
them long. At last the day came when he flung down the pink parasol,
and, without even one last look at the garden, ran out at the gate.

The flowers died, and the swallows journeyed south; the trees
stretched higher and higher, to see the child come back across the
plain, but he never came. "Ah, dear child!" they sighed many a time,
"why are you staying? and are your eyes as blue as ever; or have the
sad tears dimmed them? and is your hair golden still? and your voice,
is it like the singing of the birds? And your heart--oh! my dear, my
dear, what is in your heart now, that once was so full of summer and
the sun?"

The pink parasol lay on the pathway, where the child left it, spoilt by
the rain, and splashed by the gravel, faded and forgotten. At last, a
gipsy lad, with dark eyes, a freckled face, and little gold rings in
his ears, came by; he picked up the pink parasol, hid it under his
coat, and carried it to the gipsy tent. There it stayed till one day
the cherry-wood stick was broken into three pieces, and the pink
parasol was put on the fire to make the water boil for the gipsy's
tea.

THE SISTERS.

The little sisters went into the room to play at ball.

"We must be careful not to wake the white cat," the tall one said,
softly.

"Or to spoil the roses," the fat one whispered; "but throw high, dear
sister, or we shall never hit the ceiling."

"You dear children," thought the white cat, "why do you come to play
here at all? Only just round the corner are the shady trees, and the
birds singing on the branches, and the sunshine is flecking the
pathway. Who knows but what, out there, your ball might touch the sky?
Here you will only disturb me, and perhaps spoil the roses; and at best
you can but hit the ceiling!"

THE WHITE RABBITS.

All the white rabbits but two, my dears,
All the white rabbits but two,
Away they all sailed in a cockle-shell boat,
Painted a beautiful blue.

All the white rabbits so snowy and sleek,
Away they went down to the shore;
Little they thought, so happy and meek,
They'd never come up from it more.

Oh, the white rabbits they wept and they sobbed,
Till the boat it shook up in the sails;
Oh, the white rabbits they sobbed and they shook
From their poor loppy ears to their tails.

Awa