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THE LITTLE FERN.


A great many centuries ago, when the earth was even more beautiful than
it is now, there grew in one of the many valleys a dainty little fern
leaf. All around the tiny plant were many others, but none of them so
graceful and delicate as this one I tell you of. Every day the cheery
breezes sought out their playmate, and the merry sunbeams darted in and
out, playing hide-and-seek among reeds and rushes; and when the twilight
shadows deepened, and the sunbeams had all gone away, the little fern
curled itself up for the night with only the dewdrops for company.

So day after day went by: and no one knew of, or found the sweet wild
fern, or the beautiful valley it grew in. But--for this was a very long
time ago--a great change took place in the earth; and rocks and soil
were upturned, and the rivers found new channels to flow in.

Now, when all this happened, the little fern was quite covered up with
the soft moist clay, and perhaps you think it might as well never have
lived as to have been hidden away where none could see it.

But after all, it was not really lost; for hundreds of years afterwards,