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Deep in a lush green forest, a tall fir tree stood beside a twisted, thorny bramble. One day it grandly said to the thorny bush, ” Bush , if you had one wish in all this wide world, wouldn’t you rather be a tall, straight fir like me?”

” No”, said the twisted bush, ” Just like you, I’m proud of what I am. Besides, I wouldn’t take the gamble. When the woodcutter come to cut tall, straight firs, wouldn’t you rather be a bramble?”.

In the days when the earth was young and all things were better than they now are, when men and women were stronger and of greater beauty, and the fruit of the trees was larger and sweeter than that which we now eat, rice, the food of the people, was of larger grain. One grain was all a man could eat; and in those early days such too was the merit of the people, they never had to toil gathering the rice, for, when ripe, it fell from the stalks and rolled into the villagers, even unto the granaries. And upon a year when the rice was larger and more plentiful than ever before, a widow said to her daughter ” Our granaries are too small. we will pull them down and builld larger.” When the old granaries were pulled down and the new one not yet ready for use, the rice was ripe in the fields. Great haste was made, but the rice came rolling in where the work was going on, and the widow, angered, struck a grain and cried, ” Could not wait in the fields until we were ready? You should not bother us now when you are not wanted.” The rice broke into thousands of pieces and said ” From this time forth, We will wait in the fields until we are wanted.” and from that time the rice has been of small grain, and the people of the earth must gather it into the granary from the fields.

Whenever mother crow heard cuckoo kids singing, it felt sad that her own kids could not sing.

‘Maybe if they grew up with cuckoo kids, they may also learn to sing,’ the crow thought.

So when the time came for her to lay eggs, the crow laid an egg in the cuckoo’s nest on a nearby tree. The egg hatched along with cuckoo eggs. Since cuckoo kids were also dark, the cuckoo mother did not know that the baby was different and fed it also along with her kids.

After a few days, cuckoo mother started training her kids to sing. When she said coo-coo, all her children also sang coo-coo. But the crow’s child said caw-caw. All the cuckoo kids started laughing at the crow baby. Next day, when the cuckoo mother went out to forage for food, they all teased and pecked the crow baby and pushed it out of the nest.

The mother crow, perching on the nearby tree, saw her child falling out. She picked it up and brought it to her nest. She now understood that it was useless to challenge nature’s rules.

professional who took extra time just to impress his /her imployer, will face tough time in future a head, so take extra time as and when necessary.

Away off on a warm sunny island, little Harry Hall was born. Flowers bloomed all the year round. The sun shone most of the time, although now and then there were thunder-showers. Many wonderful plants grew wild, while on the shore shells and seaweed and queer little fishes were often to be found.

When Harry was six years old his parents took a journey to New York. It seemed very odd to the little boy to live in a place where there were so many people, and such great houses. After a while the weather grew cold, and he had to wear thick woollen clothing. The house in which they lived was heated by a furnace; but one day they had a fire of logs on the hearth. Harry enjoyed it very much, and thought the bright blaze so pretty.

The sky was gray and cloudy one afternoon, and Harry had been standing by the window watching the street cars. Suddenly the air grew thick, and he could scarcely see the houses opposite. Something white and feathery fell slowly down and rested on the window ledge. Then it disappeared. But more and more of the little flakes came, until there was quite a ridge outside of the window. Harry opened the sash gently, fearing it might fly away. He was surprised when he touched it to find it so cold.

He took some up in his hand, but in a moment it was only a drop of water. By that time the street and the men’s hats and coats were quite white. Harry was puzzled to find a name for the beautiful white substance, so he ran to his mamma and asked her about it. She told him it was snow, and because the air was so warm on the beautiful island where he was born they never had any.

The next morning he saw the little children of the neighborhood playing in it; but before noon the sun was so bright and warm the snow had all melted away. When the second snow-storm came Harry’s papa brought home a beautiful sleigh, and gave his little boy great pleasure by drawing him up and down the street. Harry soon learned to go out by himself, and made many friends; especially of the little girls, as he was very generous with his sleigh. But he has never forgotten his surprise when he saw the first snow-storm.

One bright, beautiful spring day, when the earth was fresh in its new green dress decked with flowers, while the birds sang their sweetest songs, and the brooks babbled merrily

on their way to the rivers, two wee dimples were sent by Mother Nature on a journey to find their work in the world.

It was a delightful journey through the blue sky and past the fleecy white clouds. They played and danced with the sunbeams who led them on their way to the earth. The dimples

could see nothing for them to do, so on they went, frolicking and playing.

At last they found themselves among the trees and the bright flowers of the earth. They chased the sunbeams under the leaves, they rode on the butterflies’ wings, they sipped

the honey with the bees from the flowers. Still, they could find nothing to do.

The sunbeams bade the dimples good-by and silently crept home.

“Oh,” said the dimples, “what shall we do? We have no place to rest tonight.”

“Here is a bird’s nest; let us rest in this,” said one dimple.

“No, that will never do,” said the other dimple, “for there is the mother bird, who rests in her nest all night.”

Just then they spied a window swing open on its hinges. The tiny stars came out and peeped into the window, and the lady-moon sent silvery moonbeams down to help the dimples

find a resting place. Then the dimples flew through the window, and there, close by, in her crib, curtained around with white, was a wee baby, rosy, sweet, and bright.

“Oh,” said one dimple, “I would love to rest on that rosy cheek.”

“So would I,” said the other dimple.

And they each took a rosy cheek for a couch, and here they rested the whole night long. The robins early in the dawn sat on the cheery boughs and sang loud and long, thus waking

the dimples, who now knew not what to do.

“But,” said one dimple, “we have not yet found our work.”

The other dimple said:

“Let us stay here. Baby’s eyes are opening, and we must hide,” and each dimple nestled away in baby’s cheeks.

Then her big, blue eyes opened wide, to see the sunbeams that had crept through the windows to her crib. The sunbeams coaxed the dimples to come out and play, but the dimples

would only peep out, and when they did, they brought smiles around baby’s rosy lips and sunny eyes.

“So you have found your work at last,” said the sunbeams.

And they had, for they helped to bring out the smiles in baby’s cheeks. If you look the next time you see baby you may see the dimples playing hide and seek.

It was the month of May, but the wind still blew cool, for the sun was not yet ready to shed his warmest rays on the waiting earth. Yet some of the birds had come, and more were on their way, and many beautiful blossoms were already showing their pink and white blooms, so that from bush and tree, field and flower, came the glad cry,

“Spring is here! Spring is here.”

Now, it happened that a young princess rode by a beautiful orchard in full bloom, and she stopped to pick a branch of apple blossoms to take to her palace.

All who saw the apple blossom praised its beauty and fragrance until the blossom became proud, and thought that beauty was the only valuable thing in the world. But as the apple blossom looked out upon the field she thought,

“Not all of the plants are rich and beautiful, as I am, some seem poor and plain.”

And she noticed a little, common, yellow flower, which seemed to lift up its sunny head and grow everywhere. The apple blossom said to the plain little flower,

“What is your name?”

“I am called the dandelion,” replied the little flower.

“Poor little plant,” said the apple blossom. “It is not your fault; but how sad you must feel to be so plain and to bear such an ugly name.”

Before the little plant could reply a lovely little sunbeam came dancing along and said,

“I see no ugly flowers. They are all beautiful alike to me.”

And he kissed the apple blossom; but he stooped low and lingered long to kiss the little yellow dandelion in the field.

And then some little children came tripping across the field. The youngest laughed when they saw the dandelions and kissed them with delight. The older children made wreaths and dainty chains of them. They picked carefully those that had gone to seed, and tried to blow the feathery down off with one breath, making joyous wishes.

“Do you see,” said the sunbeam, “the beauty of the dandelion?”

“Only to children are they beautiful,” said the proud apple blossom.

By and by an old woman came into the field. She gathered the roots of the dandelions, out of which she made tea for the sick, and she sold others for money to buy milk for the children.

“But beauty is better than all this,” still said the proud little apple blossom.

Just then the princess came along. In her hand she carried something that seemed like a beautiful flower. She covered it carefully from the wind. What do you think it was? It was the feathery crown of the dandelion.

“See!” she said, “how beautiful it is! I will paint it in a picture with the apple blossoms.”

Then the sunbeam kissed the apple blossom, and as he stooped low to kiss the dandelion the apple blossom blushed with shame.

It was winter. Deep snow and cold weather. But under the snow, under the earth a little flower sat in its bulb.

When the first sunbeams shot through the snow the flower became anxious. He just asked the sunbeams when will spring come, but no answer came, the sunbeams were very weak.

The flower kept on waiting but eventually it got tired of it. It could easily push itself up in the watery snow and it did so. He popped out from the snow showing it’s mighty head to the sun.

“You are a bit early…” said the wind and the weather but the little flower seemed to be stronger than they thought. When the sun shone it showed it’s face to the sky, when snow fell it turned away. It grew every day sweeter with it’s pale green stripes and white head.

The children ran into the garden and they noticed the snowdrop.

“Oh! See the snowdrop. The first, the only one… so beautiful.”

Once upon a time there lived an old lady in a house. She had a beautiful bed of tulips in her garden.

One night she heard singing and laughing outside. She got up and listened. It seemed that the sounds are coming from the tulips bed. She looked out from the window but she couldn’t see a thing.

Next morning she examined her tulips but there were nothing strange about them. No signs of intruders.

On the next night she heard the singing and laughing again. She silently got up and sneaked out from the house and hid away in the busses to watch the tulips.
As she looked closely she noticed little faeries among the tulips. The faeries were singing and they was rocking the tulips like a cradle because the tulip bulbs contained fairy babies.

The old lady smiled and she sneaked back to the house. From that time she never touched the flowers and she prohibited the neighbours doing that too.

The tulips grew even larger and eventually they became the most beautiful flowers on the Earth.

But one day the good old woman died. The tulip bed was torn up by strangers who did not know about the secret. They planted wheat there but it withered and from that time nothing would grow there.

But the old woman’s grave grew colorful flowers as the fairies sang above it making it covered with tulips, violets and other lovely flowers.

In the far North-land where summer is short and cold and winter is long and freeze wandered a good Saint on the road. He nearly fainted as he was so hungry with fasting.

The saint came to a cottage and within he saw a little old woman baking cakes. As he was starving he asked a small cake for himself.

The old woman made a very small cake and put it in the oven. As she watched the cake he noticed that the cake is too big for her to give away so she made another one, smaller. When she turned it over in the oven it looked even more bigger then the previous one. After that the old woman made an even smaller one, thin like water but as it happened before, this cake also became bigger. Finally the old woman said:

“I can’t give you a cake because my cakes are too big.” and he put his cakes to the shelf.

The good saint became very angry.

“You are greedy and selfish. You do not deserve to have a human appearance. Henceforth you shall be a bird. You will gather your food by boring, boring, boring all the day long in the bark of trees.”

As he made his curse the old woman transformed into a woodpecker and she left the house throughout the chimney.

Now everybody can see her in the forest where she lives in trees boring, boring for her food.