Buds and Blossoms

 I have some little children who are fond of listening to me while I tell them stories; but I always find, that when they are very much pleased with one, they ask these questions: “Is it all true, mama? Is it about a real little boy and girl?” and when I am obliged to answer, “No, I do not think it is,” their countenances fall, and they seem as if half their pleasure and half their interest were gone.

How droll it would be to meet them, and to find out that they were the very children you had been reading about, and how surprised they would be to see that you knew all that had ever happened to them. Why, they would think that you must be little fairies, and would be half afraid to trust themselves with you for fear that you should play off some elfish trick upon them.