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MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER

Make the home-coming sweet!
The gladness of going,
The pleasure of knowing
Will not be complete
Unless, at the ending,
The home-coming’s sweet.

Make the home-coming sweet!
No fear of the straying,
Or dread of the staying
Of dear little feet,
If always you’re making
The home-coming sweet.

Mother and Father Pigeon lived with their two young pigeons in their home, built high on a post in the king’s barnyard. Every bright morning they would fly away through the beautiful sunshine wherever they pleased, but, when evening came, they were sure to come to the pigeon-house again.

One evening, when they were talking together in their sweet, cooing way, Mother Pigeon said:–

“We each have a story to tell, I know; so let each one take his turn, and Father Pigeon begin.”

Then Father Pigeon said:–

“To-day I have been down to the shining little stream that runs through the wood. The green ferns grow on either side of it, and the water is cool, cool, cool! for I dipped my feet into it, and wished that you all were there.”

“I know the stream,” cooed Mother Pigeon. “It turns the wheels of the mills as it hurries along, and is busy all day on its way to the river.”

“To-day I have talked with the birds in the garden,” said Sweet Voice, one of the young pigeons, “the thrush, the blackbird, and bluebird, and all. They sang to me and I cooed to them, and together we made the world gay. The bluebird sang of the sunshine, and the blackbird of the harvest; but the thrush sang the sweetest song. It was about her nest in the tree.”

“I heard you all,” said Fleet Wing, the other young pigeon; “for I sat and listened on the high church tower. I was so high up, there, that I thought I was higher than anything else; but I saw the great sun shining in the sky, and the little white clouds, like sky pigeons, sailing above me. Then, looking down, I saw, far away, this white pigeon-house; and it made me very glad, for nothing that I saw was so lovely as home.”

“I never fly far away from home,” said Mother Pigeon, “and to-day I visited in the chicken yard. The hens were all talking, and they greeted me with ‘Good morning! Good morning!’ and the turkey gobbled ‘Good morning!’ and the rooster said ‘How do you do?’ While I chatted with them a little girl came out with a basket of yellow corn, and threw some for us all. When I was eating my share, I longed for my dear ones. And now good night,” cooed Mother Pigeon, “it is sleepy time for us all.”

“Coo, coo! Good night!” answered the others; and all was still in the pigeon-house.

Now over in the palace, where the king, and queen, and their one little daughter lived, there was the sound of music and laughter; but the king’s little daughter was sad, for early the next morning her father, the king, was to start on a journey, and she loved him so dearly that she could not bear to have him leave her.

The king’s little daughter could not go out in the sunshine like Sweet Voice and Fleet Wing, but lay all day within the palace on her silken cushions; for her fine little feet, in their satin slippers, were always too tired to carry her about, and her thin, little face was as white as a jasmine flower.

The king loved her as dearly as she loved him; and when he saw that she was sad, he tried to think of something to make her glad after he had gone away. At last he called a prince, and whispered something to him. The prince told it to a count, and the count to a gentleman-in-waiting.