Agatha loved to roam through these shady glens, and often would she
stand upon the margin of the little stream, and, gazing down, fancy that
she saw a beautiful little angel in the pure waters. She sometimes
waited a long time, hoping it might speak to her, little dreaming that
her sweet angel was but the reflection of her own innocent face and
golden ringlets from the mirrored surface. She loved the little brook,
and walked among the wild flowers upon its banks, herself as pure and
innocent as Spring's earliest blossoms. She was never lonely in her
rural bowers; for the brook, the birds, and the flowers, ever spoke to
her heart in tones of love.
But one day her teacher told her that wicked spirits were ever flying
about, trying to lead away little children into their company, and make
them as wicked as themselves. This much disquieted Agatha, for she had
never learned before that aught existed save innocence and joy. At
first, she feared to wander out alone, into the "great temple of
nature," as she was wont, lest she should meet some of those malicious
beings.
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