"Great brooding mother-clouds,
Watching o'er all,

Let their warm mother-tears
Tenderly fall."

7. THE STORY THE CLOUD TOLD.

Yes, we are very happy in Cloudland, and we are always glad to please the children by making beautiful pictures and hanging them up in the sky where all can see them.

Tell you my story? if you wish to hear it.

Of course I will,

I am composed of water-dust formed from the vapor which has evaporated from different places on the earth. Some of this vapor came from the brooks, the rivers, and the oceans. Some of it came from the kettles of boiling water in your homes; some from the sponges which you use in school; some from your breath; and some from the leaves of plants, and skins of animals.

A chilly east wind changed the vapor of which I am formed to water-dust.

Here I am with my sister clouds trying to make pictures for you.

I am

a little water-drop. Not long ago I was floating in a pail of water which was drawn from a well to fill a teakettle.

The kettle was placed over a fire, where in a short time the water began to boil. I with many other drops was changed to steam which floated out from the nose of the kettle into the air.

Until late in the evening I floated around, helping to make the air in the room moist. Out doors it was very cold

too. I did not know that I was so near the cold window until I touched it and was frozen fast.

Still I think I was very useful there, because I helped to make a muff for Jack Frost's sister, who was on the same pane. There I remained until the warm sun shone upon me.

Soon I felt myself melting and running on the pane, and here I am a drop of water right on the window-sill.

Do you see me? Can you hear me talk?

Then I

Soon I shall be vapor again. hope some one will open the window and let me float away up to the clouds.

There I shall stay until a cold wind sends me in a shower to help water the thirsty plants.

A pretty little cloud away up in the sky,

Said it didn't care if the earth was dry: 'Twas having such a nice time sailing all around,

It wouldn't, no, it wouldn't tumble on the ground.

So the pretty lilies hung their aching heads,

And the golden pansies cuddled in their

beds;

The cherries couldn't grow a bit, you would have pitied them;

They'd hardly strength to hold to the little slender stem.

By and by the little cloud felt a dreadful shock,

Just as does a boat when it hits upon a

rock.

Something ran all through it, burning

like a flame,

And the little cloud began to cry as down it came.

Then old Grandpa Thunder as he growled

away,

Said, "I thought I'd make you mind 'fore another day;

Little clouds were meant to fall when the earth is dry;

And not go sailing round away up in the sky."

And old Grandma Lightning, flitting to and fro,

Said, "What were you made for, I would like to know,

That you spend your precious time sailing all around,

When you know you ought to be buried in the ground."

Then lilies dear, and pansies, all began to bloom,

And the cherries grew and grew till they took up all the room.