towns, buzzing sawmills, stone bridges, and harbors full of all sorts
of vessels, large and small, with flags of all colors floating from
the masts and sailors of all countries working on the decks. But Aqua
did not stay long in any place, for as the river grew wider and wider,
and nearer and nearer its end, he could almost see the mother Ocean
into whose arms he was joyfully running. She reached out to gather all
her children, the water-drops, into her heart, and closer than all the
others nestled our little Aqua.

His travels were over, his pleasures and dangers past; and he was
folded again to the dear mother heart, the safest, sweetest place in
all the whole wide world. In warm, still summer evenings, if you will
take a walk on the sea-beach, you will hear the gentle rippling swash
of the waves; and some very wise people think it must be the gurgling
voices of Aqua and his brother water-drops telling each other about
their wonderful journey round the world.




MOUFFLOU.

Adapted from Ouida.

"We tell too few stories to children, and those we tell are stories
whose heroes are automata and stuffed dolls,"--Froebel.


Lolo and Moufflou lived far away from here, in a sunny country called
Italy.