shelter many a dying leaf and many a sick and wounded insect. It comforted the poor oak-leaf, in her fear and distress, to be touched by such gentle hands, and to have such patient listeners. For you must know that not a single leaf passes out of life without leaving the world its story, and the lesson to be learned from it. Hear, then, what the oak-leaf told the gentle grass-maidens :—

2. 'We were daughters of the forest-king, so I and my sisters were not suffered to unfurl till the birds were well practised in song, till day was much longer than night, and till the sun had mastered the rebellious frost, snow, and wind, and was preparing the earth by spring-tide for the glorious

summer.

3. You will wish to know what I thought of the world when it first opened upon me, or rather when I first opened upon it. But I did not think of that or of anything else. I only felt myself a happy, merry little thing, that could not flutter and dance enough to wear out its joy.

4. This was while I was a tiny leaflet: but as I grew up I felt a desire to look about me and notice all I could. Then I began to think how large the world was, how many things there were in it, how glorious was the sun, and how numberless the stars.

5. And now I began to watch for the birds to come and chirp interestingly to us of foreign countries, and of strange cousins of ours in distant forests. The birds and the cockchafers (whom we did not like) were almost our only visitors, though sometimes a bee of inquiring mind would come humming among us, and sometimes a butterfly would glance into our sober shade.

6. 'Our sire was a noble old oak that had been spared in a forest clearing, and now gave park-like grace to grass meadows that gleamed white and gold with daisies and buttercups. We stood on rising ground and could see eastward to the horizon, and watch the morning change her robes of light from grey to amber, and from amber to diamond white. A few yards off ran a small brooklet with water-lilies floating on it, and bright flowers bending down to look into it. Then beyond were the woods, above which, at evening, we saw skies of rose, violet and amber, and the sunbeams gathering up into a golden fan.

7. 'The nights were as pleasant as the days, for after dancing many hours, not to speak of the rough games we had with the winds, it was rest as good as sleep to look up into the peaceful face of the moon. She seemed to me a guardian mother that had hushed earth's children to rest, and was

watching over their slumbers. Then each one of the myriads of stars had a bright kind look, which I could not help believing was meant for me in particular.

8. 'Our leaf duties were very simple. We had only to drink in, for the general welfare of the tree, as much dew, rain and air as we could, and then to keep shining surfaces by brushing one another in a friendly way. The rest of our time we sang in chorus, danced, conversed in whispers, or were silent in contemplation of the beauties and wonders around us.

9. 'How happy I was in my early leaflet days! It is true that now and then there was a thunderstorm, which terrified us all, and made us huddle up together and stick close to one another; but when the danger was over how purified was the air, how revived was the earth, and how fresh and invigorated were we ourselves!

10. 'And now I am sorry to tell you that as the summer days passed and I grew older, I began to turn my back upon the sun, moon and stars, the soft breezes and gentle dews, the glad music and the loving friends, and all the beautiful things that used to delight me. I became discontented and covetous, and my mind was filled with vanity and self-conceit. I began to esteem myself the fairest

atom of foliage that had ever opened to the sun. I looked with contempt upon my sisters that were around me, and fancied that I deserved a place of distinction among them, instead of living almost unseen in the centre. In vain my sisters spoke to me of the folly of fretting and languishing after a position that was beyond my reach. I mur

mured that it was very hard that all my raindrops should be only drippings from the leaves above, that all my sunbeams should be intercepted, and that the shadows of other leaves should be ever upon me. So I pined and fretted till I grew faded and wan; my stem became weak, and now you see the fatal consequences. Here I am in a dying state, carried off the tree on the first wet autumn day.

II. 'How I wish, dear grass-maidens, that I had sometimes looked down upon you! I might have observed how little you troubled yourselves about getting on in the world; content to be a carpet for the comfort of weary feet. I might have noticed, too, how the cheerful buttercup brightens up at even a glimpse of sunshine; and how your pretty companion the daisy, finding herself too little to peep over the heads of the crowd and view the world, lifts up her sweet innocent face to heaven instead, and lives contented and happy. I have discovered my mistake too late!'

12. The leaf stopped. Sentence by sentence her voice had become more whispering, and her face more languid. And now as she lay back in the cool fanning arms of the grass-maidens, I, who had been a watcher of the scene, perceived that both her story and her life were at an end.

(By permission of Messrs. WARNE & Co.)

HIE AWAY.

HIE away, hie away,

Over bank and over brae,

Where the copsewood is the greenest,
Where the fountains glisten sheenest,
Where the lady-fern grows strongest,
Where the morning dew lies longest,
Where the blackcock sweetest sips it,
Where the fairy latest trips it:
Hie to haunts right seldom seen,

Lonely, lonesome, cool and green;
Over bank and over brae,

Hie away, hie away.

W, SCOTT.