Through the branches of a great almond-tree sported the golden sunlight, till it fell in shining flecks upon the broad verandas of a spacious adobe house. Nothing could be pleasanter than this homestead in the southern Gold Land, with the great garden around it, filled with all kinds of tropical flowers and fruits in their season. Here dwelt a little boy and girl, whose father and mother were both dead, so they, poor children, had their sorrows.

After the mother died, the father had married a poor widow, who had two children, about the age of his own little ones.

At first, while the comfort of the new home was a novelty to the woman, she had been kind to the children; but, as the strangeness wore off, she began to feel like the real mistress. In a thousand ways she favored her own children, who were proud and selfish; and in all their childish differences, only the motherless ones were punished.

Then the father died, and the step-mother became like a great shadow between them and the bright sunshine of childhood. She would have sent them away from home, but their own mother had been very rich, and, after the father’s death, the house in which they lived, the vineyard, and the large herd of cattle feeding upon the hills, all belonged to them.

The step-mother was very angry at this, but she was their guardian, so she managed every thing to suit herself, and lived in great ease and luxury.

One day, as the children were playing in the garden, the step-mother’s son threw his ball into a wild-rosebush that was covered with thorns.

“Go and get it for me, Zoie,” said he, sharply, to the little girl.

“I can not,” replied the child, “for the thorns will tear my dress, and the seÑora will whip me.”

“How dare you call my mother the seÑora? It is not from respect, but because you are a hateful little beast.” And he struck the child a cruel blow, and made her go for the ball.

Her dress was torn, and her pretty hands bleeding when she recovered it. Just then her own brother came up, and would have fought the unkind boy, but the little Zoie entreated, weeping, “Dear brother, do not strike him. Come with me, while I say, ‘Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.’”The heart of the young boy swelled with anger, and his quickened pulse beat fearfully; but, because he loved his sister, he suffered her to lead him away, for well he knew, nothing would grieve her so much as his returning blow for blow.

“Oh! to be a man!” he thought, as the hot tears filled his eyes. “Why don’t the years fly fast? How long must I wait, before I can take care of my little sister like a man?”

Already the manhood was dawning in his heart; and if he could have protected the dear little maiden, he would have dared any thing.

At this moment the garden gate opened, and an old Indian woman came up the walk, crying—“Strawberries! fresh and ripe, red and bright. Strawberries! strawberries!”

All the children ran to meet her, and looked so eagerly at the pretty crimson fruit, that she gave to each of them a handful, but to the little sister, who was so modest and beautiful, she gave a small basket, covered with green leaves, and filled with the delicious berries.

When the other children would have taken the basket for themselves, the old woman prevented them; and, while they went, crying, to their mother, Zoie hid her treasure under the trailing vines of a passion-flower.

“Be quick, little seÑorita,” said the old Indian. “Your mother once saved the life of my child, and an Indian never forgets. In the basket is a wonderful talisman, which will give you any thing you want, just for the wishing.”

She had hardly time to say this, when the step-mother came out, and bought all the fruit she had left.The seÑora was very angry with the orphans, and, after whipping them both for quarreling, sent them supperless to bed, in an old out-house where the Indian servants slept, but she and her children sat down to a luxurious meal, with a large basket of delicious strawberries in the center of the table, plenty of nice white sugar, and three bowls of fresh, rich cream.

For some time the lonely orphans lay talking of their own dear parents, and weeping, as they lay shivering in each other’s arms. The evening was coming on, and, though the days were very warm, there was a chill in the damp night air, and they had only a thin sheet to cover them.

At last the brother said: “Sister, I can not endure it. If they would only whip me—but to see them strike you! I can not endure it! You, whom I promised the dear papa to love and protect. We have nothing but sorrow here. Let us go out into the wide world alone. It will not be so bad—at least we shall be away from the seÑora, who gives only hard crusts to eat.”

“Dear brother, let us go! The good God, who takes care of the pretty birds, will take care of us. But first bring me my blue shawl, for it was the last thing the dear mamma gave me.”

Very softly the boy rose and went for the shawl, but the old Indian cook, who had lived in the family before he was born, and loved the children dearly, saw him and gave him some tortillas.

“The old wizzen witch, to treat the real seÑora’s children so!” said the woman, angrily. “She, the seÑora, to be sure! A cane hut in the chaparral would be good enough for her.”“Good-bye, mammie,” said the boy, throwing his arms around the old Indian’s neck; “we are going away to seek our fortune, and when I am a man, you shall live with us. But do not follow us now, or she will see you. We are running away from the seÑora,” he whispered softly.

The old Indian pressed him to her heart for a moment, and then said, “Go! for nothing in the wild woods will hurt you so much as staying here. I shall go to-morrow, but I must wait and see that the old witch does not bring you back, for I believe she would kill you, only for me.”

Then the boy went softly out, and the old Indian covered her face with her apron, and thought over her half savage thoughts, which were still full of good faith and love to the children who had slept in her bosom in their helpless infancy.

The little Zoie was waiting for her brother in the garden. As soon as she saw him, she held up the basket of strawberries, saying, “This is all we have, but, no doubt in the wide world, God will give us all we need.”

The young boy wrapped the shawl about her, and, clasping each other’s hands, they stole out of the garden silently, but, when the gate had closed upon them, he told her how the old cook had given them the tortillas.

“That is but the beginning of our good fortune,” answered the child.

As they passed the Lake of the Tuleis, the moon and stars were shining pleasantly, casting a flood of soft golden light upon the graves of the father and mother. Here the children stopped for a moment, and the little maiden laid her head upon the green grave of the mother, crying—“Oh, mamma, mamma! We loved you so dearly, and are so lonely now. We are going out into the wide world alone, mamma! dear, sweet mamma!”

She buried her head in the long grass, and there would have wept herself to sleep, as she had often done before, but the brother took her by the hand, saying, “We must hasten, sister, or the seÑora will come after us.”

So they ran on as fast as they could, and every waving shrub or tree their fear and the darkness changed into the form of the angry step-mother.

At last they came to a thick wood, and began to feel quite safe as they entered it. It seemed so large, and so far out into the wide world, that they were sure the step-mother could never find them there.

The gray twilight of the morning was coming on, and, as they were very tired and hungry, they sat down under the trees to eat their tortillas and strawberries. In the bottom of the basket Zoie found a nut, about the size of an almond. “This must be the talisman that makes wishing ‘having,’” said the little girl.

They wished all sorts of things, but nothing came to them, and the boy said, “It is a poor talisman—throw it away.”

“No, brother,” answered the child; “the old woman was so kind to me, for her sake I will keep it always, and who knows what may come of it yet?”

So she wrapped it in a leaf, and placed it in her bosom. Then they said their prayers, and, covering themselves with the shawl, they slept soundly till morning.

When they awoke, the sun was shining through the leaves of a rich banana tree, and the ripe golden fruit was hanging in thick bunches just above their heads.

“See, brother,” said the little girl, “the good God has given us our breakfast;” and they gathered from the ground as much of the delicious fruit as they wished.

“I am so thirsty,” said the brother.

“I hear something that sounds like running water,” replied Zoie.

So they looked around, until they found a brook, with a clear spring of water bubbling up in the midst of the shining stones.

“I thank the good God for this pure, clear water,” said the little girl, drinking with much pleasure, for she, too, was beginning to be very thirsty.

“We must go now,” said the boy.

They each took as many bananas as they could carry, and started to go, they knew not whither.

They were light-hearted and happy in all their morning wanderings, but by noon they began to feel tired, hungry, and thirsty.

“I am sorry we left the beautiful shady banana tree and the brook. It is so hot, and I am very thirsty,” said the boy, sadly. So they both looked for water, but could find none.

“God will give us some by and by,” said the little sister. “Let us sit down and eat our dinner.”

They ate their bananas with sad hearts, and the wide world seemed very desolate. All around them the grass was withered, and the trees and shrubs were dying for want of water.

Though they were so much fatigued, and it was very warm, they were too thirsty to think of rest, and all the afternoon they wandered about looking for water and finding none.

By and by the twilight came on, then the stars and the great golden moon shone upon the pale face of the children, glistening with tears.

“What shall we do, sister,” said the boy, weeping, and falling upon the ground in despair; “we shall die, we can not be buried by the Lake of the Tuleis, with the dear papa and mamma.”

“Do not cry, brother,” said the little Zoie, her own eyes filling with tears. “I am sure God will help us, and if he lets us die here, he will send the birds to cover us with leaves, as they did the poor little ‘children in the woods.’”

She put her arms around her brother’s neck, and kissed him, saying again, “Do not cry, dear, God will help us, he is our ‘Father who art in heaven.’”

So they started again, and very soon they saw a tiny light shining through the trees, and as they ran forward it grew brighter, and clearer, and they heard a very pleasant sound, the rushing of waters.

Taking heart again, they urged their little weary feet forward, till they came to a mill, and the clear light shone from the comfortable room, in which sat the weary miller, by a glowing fire, while his young son prepared the supper.

They knocked timidly at the door, and a rough kind voice said, “Come in.”

They entered, and saw the miller sitting by the fire, and his handsome young son spreading the table.

The old man spoke to them, but they could not understand him, for he spoke in English, and they were Spanish children; but the boy said, in the soft Spanish tongue, “My friends, who are you? and where did you come from?”

The little girl answered, “We are poor children, whose papa and mamma are dead, and God takes care of us. We are very hungry and thirsty, and he showed us the light shining from your window, so we are here!”

Then the boy gave them milk to drink, and put two more plates on the table, while he told the father what the children said.

“Bless her innocent heart,” said the old man, “God’s little ones are welcome.”

He took the child in his arms, and she nestled her head down in his rough neck, and whispered, “I love you, you seem like the dear papa.”

A tear came into the old man’s eye, he only understood the word papa, but there was affection in the little arms that twined around his neck, and he kissed her, and said again, “Bless her little heart.”

Her winning ways touched his affectionate nature, they made him think of a lonely grave, and his own lost darling.Meanwhile the boys talked pleasantly till supper was ready, then they sat down together to a bountiful table, and the hungry children ate heartily, and drank the pure sweet milk, which after their long thirst seemed delicious.

After supper they went to sleep on a nice deer-skin, spread upon the floor, but some how that night the old man could not sleep.

He got up two or three times to look at the children, with the tears standing in his eyes.

He was living over the past. “Bless her little heart,” he said, smoothing with his rough hand the soft wavy hair of the little girl.

In the morning the children woke much refreshed. At first they did not know where they were, but they saw the face of the old man turned kindly toward them, and remembered all.At breakfast the brother told their story to the boy, and he interpreted it to the father.

“They shall stay with us,” said the old man, with great satisfaction, for he had dreaded parting with the child that had so won his love.

After breakfast they went into the mill, and the handsome boy told the orphans his story, in return.

“Some years ago,” he said, “my father and mother came to this country, bringing my little sister and myself.

“Mother and sister died very soon after we arrived, and father and I have lived here alone for many years.

“You can’t tell how lonely it was at first,” he continued, “and how I used to cry myself to sleep, and poor father was very sad. I am so glad you are going to stay with us.”“God sent us,” said the little girl, smiling. And the children were very contented and happy together.

Thus they lived for many years at the old mill.

The little Zoie grew to be a beautiful maiden, as good as fair.

To the old father she was a great blessing, making his home always neat and pleasant.

The two boys were handsome, strong young men, full of energy and life. Every day they roamed over the mountains, prospecting for gold. The old mill was falling to decay, and promised but little in the future.

One evening, when they had returned after a hard day’s work, weary and out of heart, they sat down on the stone steps of the old mill to rest themselves. The waters were flowing on with their usual pleasant music, and they were thinking and hoping for the future. When the household work was done Zoie came out and sat by them. To amuse them she told over the old story of the strawberries and the talisman that should make “wishing having.”

“Let me see the nut,” said the miller’s son, and Zoie gave it to him.

Placing it upon the stone door-step, he pressed his heel upon it, and the shell burst open, showing a silken cap of bright crimson, trimmed with cord, and tassel of gold.

They were all greatly surprised, and the miller’s son placed it upon Zoie’s shining hair.

“How pretty it is,” said she. “I wish I had a rose-bush filled with roses of the same color.”

She had hardly spoken, before a rose-bush, covered with beautiful crimson flowers, sprang up at their feet.

Then they knew that the pretty silken toy was a wonderful wishing-cap, and that any thing they might desire, could be had for the wishing.

In the morning, when the young men went out, Zoie put on the cap, and wished they might find a mine of great richness.

“Though we could now live without the trouble of working,” she said to the father, “a rich mine would help hundreds of poor people, who would find employment in it. So it would be a real blessing.”

While they sat talking, the brother rushed in, bringing a great nugget of gold, telling how at last, they had found a mine of fabulous richness.

Thus, they had every thing they desired, till one day, the miller’s son put on the cap, and told Zoie, that above every thing in the world, he wished that she might love him, and consent to be his wife.

The young maiden blushed, and begged for the cap. “It was not quite fair,” she said, “in wishing that!” So they talked, as young people will, but it ended in her placing her hand in his, and promising to be his bride.

“And this,” as the father said, “was the best wish of all.”

The brother was greatly pleased, and said, “Zoie shall be married in the old home.” So they all went together to the pleasant adobe house from which they had fled so long ago.

The step-mother was greatly surprised so see them. She had so often reported them dead, that she really began to believe it herself.

She was obliged to give up everything to the true heirs. Thus she and her children became very poor again. Though the brothers and sisters gave her a comfortable house, and provided for her, she was very ungrateful.

She was a disappointed woman, unhappy herself and making others so around her.

It was a glorious day when the young people were married, and Zoie in her snow-white robes and rich lace veil, was as fair a bride as the sun could shine upon.

All the old friends of the family were invited to the wedding feast, and the old servants taken home again.

Every one was rejoiced to see the orphans enjoying their own—but of them all—no one was so happy as the old miller, and when he kissed the bride after the ceremony, he whispered, “bless your little heart, I could not live without my child.” The young bride looked into his face, with beaming eyes, and answered only “my father.”Thus they were all happy, and, through the changing scenes of life, the goodness and faith of the wife and mother, never failed. Like the little maid, Zoie, in the dark night, she trusted, and God always took care of them.