THE FLIES.
The next morning this same little girl was eating her breakfast. It chanced that the maid had let fall a drop of honey as she mixed her milk; and a fly came and stood on the edge of her basin to suck it.
The good child laid aside her spoon to avoid frightening the poor fly.
What is the matter,Sarah? are you not hungry?
Yes, mamma; but I would not hinder this little fly from getting his breakfast.
Good child! said her mother, rising from her tea; we will look at him as heeats. See how he sucks through his long tube. How pleased he is!
Mother, can not flies make honey? said the little girl.
“No,” said her father, “they are like you, they can not make honey, but they are very fond of eating it.”
What do flies do, father?
Father.They are as idle as any little girl of you all; they frisk and buzz about all the summer, feeding upon what is made by others.
Girl.And in winter what do they do?
Father.Creep into some snug corner.
Girl.But what do they eat then?
Father.They sleep, and want no food.