They need not seek enchantment
From solemn printed books,
For all about them as they go
The fairies flutter to and fro
With smiling friendly looks.
Deaf folk hear the fairies,
However soft their song;
Tis we who lose the honey sound
Amid the clamor all around
That beats the whole day long.
But they with gentle faces
Sit quietly apart;
What room have they for sorrowing
While fairy minstrels sit and sing
Close to each listening heart?
--From London _Punch_.
* * * * *
THE BROWNIES
BY JULIANA HORATIA EWING
I
"Children are a burden," said the tailor, as he sat on his bench
stitching away.
"Children are a blessing," said the kind lady in the window.
It was the tailor's mother who spoke. She was a very old woman and
nearly helpless. All day she sat in a large armchair knitting rugs.
"What have my two lads ever done to help me?" continued the tailor,
sadly. "They do nothing but play. If I send Tommy on an errand, he
loiters. If I ask him to work, he does it so unwillingly that I would
rather do it myself. Since their mother died I have indeed had a hard
time."
At this moment the two boys came in, their arms full of moss which
they dropped on the floor.
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