When the wind was in the east, it blew the Dust into the Crick, and when it set the other way, the Dust was blown out of it.  The Crick was of a warm and passionate temperament, and was devotedly attached to the Dust.

“I love you,” he whispered.  “I am your husband.  I protect, surround, defend, cherish you, and house you, you poor fragile Dust.  You are my wife.  You fill all the vacant space of my heart.  I adore you.  I am all heart!”

And if vacant space is heart, this last assertion was quite true.

“Remain with me always,” said the Crick.

“Ever with thee,” said the Dust, who spoke like a valentine.

But the most loving couples cannot control destiny.  The wind went round to the west, and the Crick was emptied in a moment.  In the first thrill of agony he stretched himself and became much wider.

“I am empty,” he cried; “I shall never be filled again.  This is the greatest misfortune that could possibly have happened.”

The Crick was wrong.  He was not to remain empty; and a still greater misfortune was in store.  The owner of the wall was a careful man, and came round his premises with a trowel of mortar.

“What a crack!” said he; “it must be the frost.  A stitch in time saves nine, however.”  And so saying he slapped a lump of mortar into the Crick with the dexterity of a mason.

In due time the wind went back to the east, and with it came the Dust.

“Cruel Crick!” she wept.  “You have taken another wife to your heart!”

And the Crick could not answer, for he had ceased to exist.

This is a tragedy of real life, and cannot fail to excite sympathy.

THE BROTHERS.

They were brothers—­twin brothers, and the most intense fraternal affection subsisted between them.  They were Peas—­Sweet-peas, born together in the largest end of the same Pod.  When they were little, flat, skinny, green things, they regarded the Pod in which they were born with the same awful dread which the greatest of men have at one time felt for nursery authority.  They believed that the Pod ruled the world.

It was impossible to conceive a limit to the power of a thing that could hold so tight.  But in due time the Peas became large and round and black, and the Pod got yellow and shrunken, and was thoroughly despised.

“It is time we left the nursery,” said the brothers.  “Where shall we go to, when we enter the world?” they inquired of the mother plant.

“You will fall on the ground,” said she, “in the south border, where we now are.  The soil is good, and the situation favourable.  You will then lie quiet for the winter, and in the spring you will come up and flower, and bear pods as I have done.  That will be your fate.  Not eventful perhaps, but prosperous; and it comforts me to think that you are so well provided for.”

But the best of parents cannot foresee everything in the future career of their children, and the mother plant was wrong.