"'I heard the wind moving very gently among the trees, making a soft
rustling noise. I could scarcely believe in the difference there is
between this quiet sound and the roaring of the wind in a storm. Then I
heard the wild bee's hum, and the little tiny noises made by the small
creatures that live in the wood. I heard our gardener sharpening his
scythe, and the trickling of the brook in the hollow.'

"'Now, little Fanny, tell us what you heard.'

"'I heard the hens cackling and calling to their chickens. I thought I
heard our dog bark; but all was so warm, and still, and sleepy, that I
felt as if I should go to sleep too if I kept my eyes shut much longer.
I heard the birds though, and a great bumble-bee that flew by when our
eyes were shut.'

"'Now, children,' I said, 'you have all heard something, and yet a
little while ago you told me there was nothing particular to hear; nor
is there, if you hear without listening.'"

Here grandmamma stopped awhile, then, looking at the grandchildren at
her feet, said there was a poet once who wrote about a little girl
called Lucy. She lived among all the beautiful things that are to be
seen in the country, and she loved them dearly. The poet thought how, as
she grew up, she would be yet more and more charmed by them, and that
loving all grand and beautiful natural objects would make her charming.
Among other things he said,--

"She shall lean her ear
In many a secret place,
And beauty born of murmuring sound