''
It rained harder and harder, and the poor little
butterflies grew wetter and wetter, so they flew
to the white lily and said: ``Good Lily, will you
open your bud a little so we may creep in out of
the rain?''
The lily answered: ``The white butterfly may
come in, because he is like me, but the red and
yellow ones must stay outside in the storm.''
Then the little white butterfly said: ``If you
won't receive my red and yellow brothers, why,
then, I'll stay out in the rain with them. We
would rather be wet than be parted.''
So the three little butterfiies flew away.
But the sun, who was behind a cloud, heard it
all, and he knew what good little brothers the
butterflies were, and how they had held together
in spite of the wet. So he pushed his face through
the clouds, and chased away the rain, and shone
brightly on the garden.
He dried the wings of the three little
butterflies, and warmed their bodies. They ceased to
sorrow, and danced among the flowers till evening,
then they flew away home, and found the
door wide open.
THE WATER-DROP
BY FRIEDRICH WILHELM CAROVE'
(ADAPTED FROM THE TRANSLATION BY SARAH AUSTIN)
There was once a child who lived in a little hut,
and in the hut there was nothing but a little bed
and a looking-glass; but as soon as the first
sunbeam glided softly through the casement and
kissed his sweet eyelids, and the finch and the
linnet waked him merrily with their morning
songs, he arose and went out into the green
meadow.
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