A LITTLE girl is singing in a small schoolroom in a large street of Stockholm. She is brushing, and dusting, and singing, for her mother is the mistress, and she helps to keep the school-room in order; and she warbles as she works, like a happy bird in spring-time.

A lady one day happened to ride by in her carriage; the little girl's song reached her ear, and the ease, grace, and earnest sweetness of the voice touched her heart. The lady stopped her carriage, and went to hunt the little songster. Small she indeed was, and shy, and not pretty, but of a pleasing look.

"I must take your daughter to Craelius," said the lady to the mother.   Craelius was a famous music master, "she has a voice that will make her fortune."

Make her fortune! Ah, what a great make that must be, I suppose the child thought, and wondered very much. The lady took her to the music-master, who was delighted with her voice, and he said, "I must take her to Count Puche," a great judge in such matters.  Count Puche looked coldly at her, and gruffly asked what the music-master expected him to do for such a child as that.

"Only hear her sing," said Craelius.  Count Puche condescended to do that; and the instant she finished, he cried out, well pleased, "She shall have all the advantages of Stockholm Academy."

So the little girl found favor, and soon her sweet voice charmed all the city. She sang and studied, and studied and sang. She was not yet twelve, and was she not in danger of being spoiled? I suppose her young heart often beat with a proud delight as praises fell like showers upon her. 

But God took care of her.  One evening she was announced to sing a higher part than she had ever had, and one it had long been her ambition to reach. The house was full, and everybody was looking out for their little favorite. Her time came, but she was mute. She tried, but her silver notes were gone; her master was angry, her friends were filled with surprise and regret, and the poor little songstress, how she dropped her head! Did her voice come back the next day? No, nor the next, nor next. No singing voice, and so her beautiful dream of fame and fortune suddenly faded away. What a disappointment! And yet not a bitter one, for she bore it meekly and patiently, and said, "I will study." 

Four years passed away, and I suppose the public quite forgot the little prodigy.

One day another voice was wanted in an insignificant part of a choir, which none of the regular singers were willing to take. Craelius suddenly thought of his poor little scholar. 

Pleased to be useful and oblige her old master, she consented to appear. 

While practicing her part, to the surprise of both pupil and teacher, her long-lost voice suddenly returned with all its grace and richness. What a delightful evening was that; all who remembered the little nightingale received her back with glad welcome.

She was now sixteen. What was her name? Jenny Lind. Jenny now wished to go to Paris and study with the best masters of song. In order to raise the means, in company with her father, she gave concerts through Norway and Sweden; and when enough had been thus raised, she left home for that great and wicked city, her parents wishing it were otherwise, yet trusting their young and gifted daughter to God and her own sense of right.

Here a new disappointment met her. Presenting herself to Gracia, a distinguished teacher, he said, on hearing her sing: "My child, you have no voice; do not sing a note for three months, and then come again."  She neither grumbled at the time or expense, nor was discouraged or disheartened, but quickly went away to study by herself; and at the end of that time came back again to Gracia, whose cheering words now were, "My child, you can begin lessons immediately." And then she became so very, very famous, yea, and through those very paths of painstaking, waiting, and self-denial, without which no true excellence can ever be reached.

Golden Threads.

HE who blackens others does not whiten himself.