: The Angel Children or Stories from Cloud-Land by Higgins Charlotte M - Christian life Juvenile fiction; Children's stories; Angels Juvenile fiction Children's Fiction

@FreeBooksTue 06 Jun, 2023

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PAGE HEPSA AND GENEVIEVE, 5 THE GARDEN OF GOD; OR, THE BABY'S FIRST SMILE, 26 CYBELE, THE TAMBOURINE GIRL, 44 THE STORY OF MAGGIE'S JOURNEY, 63 THE OLD WOMAN AND THE ENCHANTED SONG, 84 THE OLD MAN'S STORY, 102 A STORY OF THE CHRIST-CHILD, 118

VACATION STORY BOOKS.

WORTH NOT WEALTH. COUNTRY LIFE. THE CHARM. KARL KEIGLER. WALTER SEYTON. HOLIDAYS AT CHESTNUT HILL.

ROSY DIAMOND STORY BOOKS.

THE GREAT ROSY DIAMOND. DAISY; or, The Fairy Spectacles. VIOLET: A Fairy Story. MINNIE; or, The Little Woman. THE ANGEL CHILDREN. LITTLE BLOSSOM'S REWARD.

These volumes are finely and profusely illustrated from designs by Hoppin and other eminent artists. They are elegantly bound, and neatly packed in ornamental boxes. As gifts for holidays and birthdays, where a uniform value and appearance is desired, they are excellent.

STORIES.

HEPSA AND GENEVIEVE.

Genevieve lived in a large, handsome house, which had beautiful gardens all about it. She had no brother or sister, but she had a large play-room, filled with the nicest toys, so that a good many children who came to play in it thought she must be perfectly happy; but Genevieve had often thought how willingly she would give the room and all its playthings for a little brother of her own, whom she might take out in the garden for a walk, and watch carefully, just as her mother watched her.

One day, while she was walking in the garden, thinking of the little brother she so much wanted, who she was sure would look like her dear mother, with her blue eyes, and golden curls, what should she hear but the noise of some one crying outside the garden fence. Now, as she could not look through the fence,--for it was quite high and made of thick boards,--she ran quickly to the gate, and then round to the place where she had heard the crying. There she saw a little girl sitting upon the side-walk, with bare feet and legs, which were none of the whitest, wearing a dress of brown cloth with many tatters in it, and short black hair hanging over her face and head. Genevieve looked at her in amazement.

"Dear me!" she at last exclaimed, "where do you live?"

At this question the child stopped her crying, and pulling away her hair with both of her hands from her face, disclosed a pair of large black eyes, which, swollen with tears, regarded little Genevieve with sly, sleepy wonder.

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