To a Bird [pp. 386]

THE LADIES' REPOSITORr.
"Really you carry this matter too far. To-day
at dinner your mode of dealing seemed strange
to me, but this exceeds all. Is this the way
the tables are served in Jerusalem?"
"Be patient," said the young man. "I will
explain to you why I have made this division.
To-day at dinner five fowls were before me, to
be divided among seven persons, and as I could
not make the distribution exactly according to
the numbers, I did it still so as to preserve
equal numbers. For yourself, your wife, and
one fowl, make three. Your sons and one fowl
make also three. Your daughters and one fowl
make three again. And two fowls and myself
make also three. Thus I had to take the two
that were left."
"You are good at calculating, but bad at
cdistributing," thought the host smiling. The
stranger continued: "This evening I went to
work in another way. The head is the most
honorable part, and, therefore, I gave it to you
as head of the house. The wife is the inward
essence and substance of the family, and hence
I gave her that which filled the fowl. The two
sons are the supports of this house, so I gave
them the supports of the hen. Your daughters
are marriageable, and it is your wish that they
may soon fly off, and so I gave to each of them
a wing. I myself came in a boat, and intend to
return in a boat, and, therefore, I kept the boatlike, well-ribbed frame-work for myself."
Then the host saw that the son of the man
who died in his house was before' him. Then
he gave him his inheritance, and dismissed him
with many good wishes for his future prosperity.
WHO TOOK HIM ON THE OTHER
SIDE?
"X W HO took him on the other side?"
A pair of soft blue eyes, full of tenderness and tears, looked up into mine. Sorrow
lay on the lips that questioned me.
"On the other side! What do you mean,
my darling?" and I looked wondering at the
child.
"Baby, I mean." The little one's voice
trembled. "He was so small and weak, and
had to go all alone. Who took him on the
other side?"
"Angels," I answered, as steadily as I could
speak, for the child's question moved me deeply.
"Loving angels who took him up tenderly, and
laid his hand softly on their bosomS, and sang
to him sweeter songs than he had ever heard
in this world."
"But every one will be strange to him. I'm
afraid he'11ll be grieving for mother, and nurse,
and me.'"
" No, dear. The Savior, who was once a
baby in this world, is there; and the angels
who are nearest to him take all the little chlildren who leave our side, and love and care for
them just as if they were their own. When
baby passed through to the other side, one of
these angels held him by the hand all the way,
and he was not in the least afraid; and when
the light of heaven broke upon his eyes, and he
saw the beauty of the new world into which he
had entered, his little heart was full of gladness."
"You are sure of that?" The grief had almnost
faded out of the child's countenance.
"Yes, dear, very sure. The Lord who so
tenderly loves little children-who took them in
his arms and blessed them when he was on
earth-who said that their angels'do always
behold the face of my Father,' is more careful
of the babes who go to him than the tenderest
mother could possibly be."
"I am so glad," said the child. "And it
makes me feel so much better. Dear baby! I
did n't know who would take him on the other
side."
TO A BIRD.
LITTRLE bird, could I but know
What you say, while singing so,
I should have some words for praise
Even in the darkest days.
J When the day is dying slow,
And your trills are soft and low,
I have almost thought I heard
Human speech from singing bird.
When I hear your voice at morn,
From the snowy-blossoming thorn,
Much I wonder how the night
Taught you such a wild delight.
Did the lilies, in their sleep,
Whisper secrets strange and deep Words too sweet for mortal ear,
Minstrel of the blossoming year?
Did the warbling woodland stream
Drop its music in your dream,
Or the fragrant zephyr, born
Of the newly-wakened morn?
Have the violets in the grass,
Breathing sweetness as you pass,
Told you, trembling'neath the dew,
Stories of the heavens bright blue?
Sing on, bird, forever sing,
May good spirits speed your wing I
Sing to all, dear bird, but see
That you sometimes sing for me.
386
I
I
I
I
i
i
I
I
I
i
i