The morning star and Catholic messenger., 1875-01-03
Aerning Star and Catholic Messenger.
JUVENILE COLUMN.
THE SONG OF THE CANARY.
ssW ORLEANS, SUNDAY, JANUARY 3. Is75

plOCs Wull0 u6 put on lis LulnRlQR cap IOr e
few minutes.
Each kind of seed lived in little paper
house by itself, with it's name plainly
printed on the front door, for the seeds oi
one family are never allowed to associate
with those of other families as long as they
are nothing but seeds. After they grow to
be plants and flowers it's quite an"tber
thing. Then they are old enough and big
enough to choose their own cempanions,
and if the poppies see fit to nod to the
marigolds, and the morning gIories to
throw kisses to the geraniums, it is nobody's
business but their own.
Well, in one of these paper houses 10y
the by, girls and boys call them small en-
velopes, but then girls and boys don't
know what they're talking about half
the time) had lived the lady. slipper seeds
all the long, cheerless winter.
sob, dear, isn't this fine !" they all said
to each other as the gardener, dropping his
box, "isn't this fine! We're going to
see the world at last" And they rolled
over and over each other in perfect de-
light.
The gardener carried them to the nice,
smooth flower bed, tore off the roof of their
house and laid it upon the fresh brown
earth, while he began loosening the ground
little with bis rake.
The lady slipper seeds crowded to the
place where the roof of their house used to
be, and peeped out.
Then they all commenced whispering to-
gether as fast as they could: "Oh, how
lovely Here's everything the canary
nearly touching the sky, the tall green
grass, the birds singing, and-(don't crowd
and push SOY And oh oh! oh! are we
going to live here always, and do nothing
but lie in the warm sunshine and listen to
the birds siogf-(don't crowd and push
so)-and-"
Before they could cay another word, the
gardener took up the paper house, and,
pouring some of the seeds into the palm of
his hand, scattered them on the ground,
and began raking the dirt over them.
Those left behind commenced talking
again, this time not so fast, but in low,
frightened whisper 80 dear !'-(such a
different go dear ~ from the first one)-
"what has he done with our brothers and
sisters Shall we never see them again 7
And will he cover us up in the ground too
1t is dreadful to think of-better thous-
and times be back in the seed box, listening
to the song of the canary"
"Be quiet a moment, do, dear ones,'
said a wee brown seed, "and listen to me.
Have you all forgotten the last song we
heard the canary sing
Hidden from the sight,
a Struggling W eisS toward 1srG the light;
Soon bud appearing,
Turns into . nower.
Kissed by golden sunshine.
Washed by silver shower
Ev'ry happy hourF"
.Kissed by golden sunshine,
Washed by silver shower
echoed the others. "That was the song,
sure enough. Can we believe it Z"
"The songs of the birds are al,cays true,
said the wee seed, "for they are taught tn
them by the angels"
"We do belisve-we do believe" cried
the others, hopefully. "We are no longer
will put us in the dark ground, but we
ehall come up again, no longer seeds but
green leaves, buds and flowers"
But one little seed shat had said nothing
all this time now hid itself away in corner.
saying: "Im not going into the ground
And when the others rolled merrily out in
to the gardeners hand the paper house
futtered away with her in it to short dis
tance from the flower bed, and fell on the
ground between two cold grey stones.
Nearly two weeks went by, and the lone
ly seed, looking toward the spot where the
lady. slippers had been sowD, one warm
summer morning, beheld rows on rows OF
ground and heard them saying gally to each
other "Well met, brother" "Good day,
sister," "How pleasant it is to be In the
air and sunshine once more"
But no one saw or spoke to her, poor little
thing
Time went on, and the plants grew larger
and stronger, and at last came pretty, ten
der buds, which soon unfolded into fragrant
flowers of every beautiful hue and the
sun, wind, rain and due loved them dearly,
and the bees, birds and butterflies thought
them the sweetest things on earth.
AS for the lonely little seed, it lived a
dreary, friendless life between the two cold
grey stones, and every day it said to ITSELF
over and over again:
ooh would that I, too, had had faith in
the song of the canary, then should have
been beautiful and beloved with my broth
ers and SISTERS
iKissed by golden sunshine
Washed by silver shower
Growing sweeter-sweeter
Ev'ry happy hour ?"
The Market CroSa of Tuam.