Oh, I hope it will live!"
Don't you think the Poppy did live, and was proud and happy enough?
Do you think she was ever afterwards ashamed of her little green
cap, or her ragged scarlet leaves? And do you think the other
flowers ever laughed at her again, or were ashamed of her
acquaintance?
When the summer had passed away, and the bright blossoms one by one
withered and died before the autumn's cool breath, the Poppy
cheerfully scattered her little seeds on the earth, and laid herself
down to die; for she knew that when another spring should come, and
her children should shoot up from the ground, they would be nurtured
as tenderly, and prized as highly as those of the sweeter and far
more beautiful flowers.
NUMBER TWELVE.
WHEN I was a young man, working at my trade as a mason, I met with a
severe injury by falling from a scaffolding placed at a height of
forty feet from the ground. There I remained, stunned and bleeding,
on the rubbish, until my companions, by attempting to remove me, re-
stored me to consciousness. I felt as if the ground on which I was
lying formed a part of myself; that I could not be lifted from it
without being torn asunder; and, with the most piercing cries, I
entreated my well-meaning assistants to leave me alone to die.
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