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mother Nature meant they should do when they had 
quite fulfilled their destiny on earth. That destiny 
certainly was to make happy ,—and what flower of 
the field ever gave more joy to the heart of childhood, 
of manhood, of golden robins, or of humming-birds, 
than the sweet Columbine, full of nectar and beauty ? 
The terrible lion himself is said to be charmed into 
softness by her taste and perfume. 
As the little girl wandered on through the “ sing¬ 
ing valley,” the modest Celandine arrested her 
steps, to tell her the swallow had come home, and 
that she was named Cheladonia, from that merry 
little bird. She said her roots would make a bath to 
sharpen the sight of Mary’s eyes, if she wanted to 
see any better,—sometimes the swallow rubbed his 
little peepers with her leaves—and that she would 
cure the pain in her hands which the Butter-cup had 
