When she had left the gates of Paradise far behind the lovely blossoms in her grasp were all that remained of Heaven to her. They filled her arms so full that she could not hold them all. Some of them fell. Down, down to earth they floated. They came to rest on the smiling blue waters of the broad Atlantic.
[Illustration: She could not hold them all]
"Oh, what shall I do! I have lost my exquisite ones!" sobbed the little angel.
The flowers of Paradise smiled up at her from the place where they had fallen. Never had they looked lovelier.
"My best beloveds are beautiful and happy!" she cried as she smiled through her tears. "I still have all I can carry! I'll leave them where they are!"
There are nine of the flowers of Paradise which the angel dropped. They have always remained in the blue Atlantic where she left them. After many years Portuguese mariners found them and Portugal claimed them as her own. She named them the Azores.
To this very day, however, one of the islands is called Flores, which means flowers.
Once upon a time the dogs gave a dinner party. All the dogs were invited and all the dogs accepted the invitation. There were big dogs and little dogs and middle-sized dogs. There were black dogs and white dogs and brown dogs and gray dogs and yellow dogs and spotted dogs. There were dogs with long tails and dogs with short tails and dogs with no tails at all. There were dogs with little sharp-pointed ears and dogs with big flat drooping ears. There were dogs with long slender noses and dogs with short fat turn-up noses. All these dogs came to the party.
Now the dinner was a most elaborate affair. Everything had been arranged with the utmost care. All the good things to eat were spread out upon the rocks by the sea. A gay sparkling little brook brought water to drink. The sun was shining brightly and a soft gentle little breeze was blowing. Everything seemed absolutely perfect.
But there was a cross fussy old dog who came to the party. She was a yellow dog, they say. Nothing ever suited her. Whenever she went to a party she always found fault with something. Sometimes there was too little to eat and sometimes there was too much. Sometimes the hot things were not hot enough and sometimes the cold things were not cold enough. Sometimes the hot things were so hot they burned her mouth and the cold things so cold that they gave her indigestion. There was always something wrong.