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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Fairy Book, by Sophie May
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Fairy Book
+
+Author: Sophie May
+
+Release Date: November 24, 2008 [EBook #27321]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FAIRY BOOK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Sam W. and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+            LITTLE PRUDY SERIES.
+
+
+                 FAIRY BOOK.
+
+                     BY
+
+                 SOPHIE MAY.
+
+
+                  BOSTON:
+              LEE AND SHEPARD,
+  (SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON, & CO.)
+                   1866.
+
+
+
+
+  Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by
+                         LEE & SHEPARD,
+  In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District
+                       of Massachusetts.
+
+
+
+
+    [Illustration: CRISTOBAL. Page 32.]
+
+
+
+
+         THIS
+  BOOK OF FAIRY TALES
+     IS DEDICATED
+   TO LITTLE BESSIE.
+
+
+
+
+LITTLE PRUDY SERIES.
+
+BY SOPHIE MAY.
+
+
+    I.
+    LITTLE PRUDY.
+
+    II.
+    LITTLE PRUDY'S SISTER SUSY.
+
+    III.
+    LITTLE PRUDY'S CAPTAIN HORACE.
+
+    IV.
+    LITTLE PRUDY'S COUSIN GRACIE.
+
+    V.
+    LITTLE PRUDY'S STORY BOOK.
+
+    VI.
+    LITTLE PRUDY'S DOTTY DIMPLE.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                      PAGE
+    INTRODUCTION                         9
+
+    CRISTOBAL                           19
+
+    WILD ROBIN                          35
+
+    THE VESPER STAR                     53
+
+    THE WATER-KELPIE                    59
+
+    THE LOST SYLPHID                    74
+
+    THE CASTLE OF GEMS                 100
+
+    THE ELF OF LIGHT                   117
+
+    THE PRINCESS HILDA                 137
+
+    GOLDILOCKS                         160
+
+
+
+
+FAIRY BOOK.
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+While Prudy was in Indiana visiting the Cliffords, and in the midst of
+her trials with mosquitoes, she said one day,--
+
+"I wouldn't cry, Aunt 'Ria, only my heart's breaking. The very next
+person that ever dies, I wish they'd ask God to please stop sending
+these awful skeeters. I can't bear 'em any longer, now, certainly."
+
+There was a look of utter despair on Prudy's disfigured face. Bitter
+tears were trickling from the two white puff-balls which had been her
+eyes; her forehead and cheeks were of a flaming pink, broken into
+little snow-drifts full of stings: she looked as if she had just been
+rescued from an angry beehive. Altogether, her appearance was
+exceedingly droll; yet Grace would not allow herself to smile at her
+afflicted little cousin. "Strange," said she, "what makes our
+mosquitoes so impolite to strangers! It's a downright shame, isn't it,
+ma, to have little Prudy so imposed upon? If I could only amuse her,
+and make her forget it!"
+
+"Oh, mamma," Grace broke forth again suddenly, "I have an idea, a very
+brilliant idea! Please listen, and pay particular attention; for I
+shall speak _in a figure_, as Robin says. There's a certain small
+individual who is not to understand."
+
+"I wouldn't risk that style of talking," said Mrs. Clifford, smiling;
+"or, if you do, your figures of speech must be _very_ obscure,
+remember."
+
+"Well, ma," continued Grace with a significant glance at Prudy, "what
+I was going to say is this: We wish to treat certain young relatives
+of ours very kindly; don't we, now?--certain afflicted and abused
+young relatives, you know.
+
+"Now, I've thought of an entertainment. Ahem! Yesterday I entered a
+certain Englishman's house,"--here Grace pointed through the window
+towards Mr. Sherwood's cottage, lest her mother should, by chance,
+lose her meaning,--"I entered a certain Englishman's house just as the
+family were sitting down to the table,--_festal board_, I mean.
+
+"They were talking about mistle-toe boughs, and all sorts of old-country
+customs; and then they said what a funny time they had one Christmas,
+with the youngest, about the _mizzle_, as he called it: do you remember,
+ma? do you understand?"
+
+"You mean little Harvey? Oh, yes."
+
+"Pray do be careful, ma! Then Mr. Sherwood said to his--I mean, the _hat_
+said to the _bonnet_, that there were some wonderful--ahem--legends,
+about genii and sprites and--and so forth; not printed, but _written_,
+which the boy liked to hear when he was 'overgetting' the measles. A
+certain lady, not three inches from your chair, ma, was the one who wrote
+them; and now"--
+
+Prudy had turned about, and the only remnants of her face which looked
+at all natural--that is, the irises and pupils of her swollen
+eyes--were shining with curiosity.
+
+"There, now, what is it, Gracie? what is it you don't want me to
+hear?"
+
+Grace laughed. "Oh, nothing much, dear: never mind."
+
+"You oughtn't to say 'Never mind,'" pursued Prudy: "my mother tells me
+_always_ to mind."
+
+"I only mean it isn't any matter, Prudy."
+
+"Oh! do you? Then don't you care for my skeeter-bites? You always say,
+'Never mind!' I didn't know it wasn't _any matter_."
+
+"Now, ma," Grace went on, "I want to ask you where are those
+I-don't-know-what-to-call-'ems? And may I copy them, Cassy and I, into
+a book, for a certain afflicted relative?"
+
+"Yes, yes, on gold-edged paper!" cried Prudy, springing up from the
+sofa; "oh, do, do; I'll love you dearly if you will! Fairy stories are
+just as nice! What little Harvey Sherwood likes, _I_ like, and I've
+had the measles; _but_ I shouldn't think his father and mother'd wear
+their hat and bonnet to the dinner-table!"
+
+"Deary me!" laughed Grace; "how happened that little thing to mistrust
+what I meant?"
+
+"It would be strange if a child of her age, of ordinary abilities,
+should _not_ understand," remarked Mrs. Clifford, somewhat amused.
+"Next time you wish to ask me any thing confidentially, I advise you
+to choose a better opportunity."
+
+"When may she, Aunt 'Ria?" cried Prudy, entirely forgetting her
+troubles; "when may she write it, Aunt 'Ria, she and Cassy?"
+
+"A pretty piece of folly it would be, wouldn't it, dear, when you
+can't read a word of writing?"
+
+"But Susy can a little, auntie; and mother can a great deal: and I'll
+never tease 'em, only nights when I go to bed, and days when I don't
+feel well. Please, Aunt 'Ria."
+
+"Yes, ma, I know you can't refuse," said Grace.
+
+Mrs. Clifford hesitated. "The stories are yellow with age, Grace;
+they were written in my girlhood: and they are rather torn and
+disarranged, if I remember. Besides, my child, my flowing hand is
+difficult to read."
+
+"Oh, mamma, I think you write beautifully! splendidly!"
+
+"Another objection," continued Mrs. Clifford: "they are rather too old
+for Prudy, I should judge."
+
+"But I keep a-growing, Aunt 'Ria! Don't you s'pose I know what fairy
+stories mean? They don't mean any thing! You didn't feel afraid I'd
+believe 'em, did you? I wouldn't believe 'em, I _promise_ I wouldn't;
+just as true's I'm walking on this floor!"
+
+"Indeed, I hope you would not, little Prudy; for I made them up as I
+went along. There are no fairies but those we have in our hearts. Our
+best thoughts are good fairies; and our worst thoughts are evil
+fairies."
+
+"Oh, yes, auntie, I know! When we go bathing in the ocean, Susy says,
+'Let's be all clean, so the spirit of the water can enter our hearts.'
+And it does; but it goes in by our noses."
+
+Mrs. Clifford had tacitly given her consent to Grace's copying the
+stories. This task was performed accordingly, much to the disgust of
+Horace, who declared that of the whole number only the tale of "Wild
+Robin" was worth reading.
+
+"And 'Wild Robin,'" said Grace, instructively, "is the only one that
+has a moral for you, Horace. When our soldiers are starving so, it is
+really dreadful to see how you dislike corned beef and despise
+vegetables! Such a dainty boy as you needs to be stolen a while by the
+fairies."
+
+"Well, Gracie, I reckon you'd run double-quick to pull me off the
+milk-white steed. You couldn't get along without me two days. Look
+here! what story has a moral for you, miss? It's the 'Water-kelpie.'
+You are like the man that married Moneta: you're always wanting
+money."
+
+"But it's for the soldiers, Horace," said Grace, with a smile of
+forbearance toward her brother. "I'm willing to give all my
+pocket-money; and I mean the other girls shall. If we're stingy to our
+country these days, we ought to be shot! 'Princess Hilda's' the best
+story in the book. I wish Isa Harrington could read it! She wouldn't
+make any more mischief between Cassy and me!"
+
+"I like 'The Lost Sylphid' the best," said Prudy; "but _was_ she a
+great butterfly, do you s'pose? The stories are all just as nice; just
+like book stories. I shouldn't think anybody made 'em up. Aunt 'Ria
+can write as good as the big girls to the grammar-school. I promised
+not to believe a single word; and I sha'n't. I'm glad she called it
+_my_ Fairy Book."
+
+
+
+
+CRISTOBAL.
+
+A CHRISTMAS LEGEND.
+
+
+Long ago, in fair Burgundy, lived a lad named Cristobal. His large
+dark eyes lay under the fringe of his lids, full of shadows; eyes as
+lustrous as purple amethysts, and, alas! as sightless.
+
+He had not always been blind, as perhaps a wild and passionate lad,
+named Jasper, might have told you. On a certain Christmas Eve, a merry
+boy was little Cristobal, as he pattered along to church, trying with
+his wooden shoes to keep time to the dancing bells. In his hand he
+carried a Christmas candle of various colors. Never, he thought, was
+a rainbow so exquisitely tinted as that candle. Carefully he watched
+it when it winked its sleepy eye, eagerly begging his mamma to snuff
+it awake again. How gayly the streets twinkled with midnight lanterns!
+And how mortifying to the stars to be outdone by such a grand
+illumination!
+
+A new painting had just been hung in the church,--the Holy Child,
+called by the people "Little Jesus," with an aureola about his head.
+Cristobal looked at this picture with reverent delight; and, to his
+surprise, the Holy Child returned his gaze: wherever he went, the
+sweet, sorrowful eyes followed him. There was a wondrous charm in that
+pleading glance. Why was it so wistful? What had those deep eyes to
+say?
+
+The air was cloudy with the breath of frankincense and myrrh. Deep
+voices and the heavy organ sounded chants and anthems. There were
+prayers to the coming Messiah, and the sprinkling of holy water; and,
+at last, the midnight mass was ended.
+
+Then, in tumult and great haste, the people went home for
+merry-makings. Cristobal, eager to see what the Yule-log might have in
+store for him, rushed out of the church with careless speed, stumbling
+over a boy who stood in his way,--the haughty, insolent Jasper.
+Jasper's beautiful Christmas-candle was cracked in twenty pieces by
+his fall.
+
+"I'll teach you better manners, young peasant!" cried he, rushing upon
+Cristobal in a frenzy, and dealing fierce blows without mercy or
+reason.
+
+It was then that Cristobal's eyes went out like falling stars. Their
+lustre and beauty remained; but they were empty caskets, their vision
+gone.
+
+Then followed terrible anguish; and all Cristobal's mother could do
+was to hold her boy in her arms, and soothe him by singing. At last
+the fever was spent; but the pain still throbbed on, and sometimes
+seemed to burn into Cristobal's brain. He cried out again and again,
+"What right had that fierce Jasper to spring upon me so? I meant him
+no harm; and he knew it. Oh, I would like to see him chained in a den!
+He is like the wicked people who are turned into wolves at
+Christmas-tide. I would cry for joy if I could hear him groan with
+such pain as mine!"
+
+Poor Cristobal never hoped to see again. He carried in his mind
+pictures of cities and hamlets, of trees, flowers, and old familiar
+faces; but oftenest came Jasper's face, just as it had last glared on
+him with blood-thirsty eyes. It was a terrible countenance. Only one
+charm could dispel the horror,--the remembrance of the beautiful Child
+in the church. That picture blotted out every thing else. It was like
+the refrain in the Burgundy carols, "Noel, Noel," which comes again
+and again, and never tires of coming.
+
+A whole year passed away. Cristobal's mother only prayed now that her
+boy might suffer less: she had ceased to pray for the healing of his
+blindness.
+
+Now it was Christmas-tide again. Ever since Advent, people had been
+clearing their throats, and singing carols. They roasted chestnuts,
+drank white wine, and chanted praises of the "Little Jesus," who was
+soon to come, bringing peace on earth, good-will to men.
+
+In the streets, one heard bagpipes and minstrels; and, by the
+hearthstones, the music of the wandering piper. The children began to
+talk again of the Yule-log, and to wonder what gifts Noel would bring
+to place under each end of it; for these little folks, who have no
+stocking-saint like our Santa Claus, believe in another quite as good,
+who rains down sugar-plums in the night.
+
+Everywhere there was a joyful bustle. Housewives were making ready
+their choicest dishes for the great Christmas-supper; fathers were
+slyly peeping into shop-windows, and children hoarding their sous and
+centimes for bonbons and comfits.
+
+Everybody was merry but Cristobal; or so thought the lad. He had no
+money to spend, and little but pain for his holiday-cheer. A patch
+here and there in his worn clothes was the best present his thrifty
+mother was able to make; always excepting the little variegated taper,
+which few were too poor to buy.
+
+Christmas Eve came. Family friends dropped in. The Yule-log was set
+on the fire with shouts and singing. "Oh that I could see these kind
+faces!" moaned Cristobal. "No doubt, Jasper's chestnuts are popping
+merrily; and his shoes will be full of presents. And here am I! My
+head aches, and my eye-balls burn."
+
+He stole out of the room, and, throwing himself on a wicker bench,
+mused over his troubles in solitude. One might have supposed him
+sleeping; for how should one imagine that his beautiful eyes were of
+no manner of use, except when they were closed? When Cristobal said,
+"Let me see," he dropped his eye-lids; and what he saw then, no artist
+can paint.
+
+On this night, a beautiful child appeared before him, as like the
+picture of the Little Jesus as if it had stepped out of its frame on
+the church-wall. Even the crimson and blue tints of the old painting
+were faithfully preserved; and every fold of the soft drapery was the
+very same.
+
+"I saw you, Cristobal, when you came before me with your colored
+candle, one year ago."
+
+"I knew it, I knew it!" cried Cristobal, clasping his hands in awe. "I
+saw your eyes follow me; and I never once turned but you were looking.
+They told me it was only a picture; but I said for that very reason
+your eyes were sorrowful,--you longed to be alive."
+
+The child replied by a slight motion of the head; and the aureola
+trembled like sunlight on the water. The longer Cristobal gazed, the
+more courage he gathered. "Lovely vision," said he, "if vision you may
+be,--I have said to myself, I would gladly walk to Rome with peas in
+my shoes, if I could know what you wished to say to me that Christmas
+night."
+
+"Only this, little brother: Are you ready for Christmas?"
+
+"Alas! no: I never am. I have only two sous in the world."
+
+"Poor Cristobal! Yet, without a centime, one may be ready for
+Christmas."
+
+"But I am so very unhappy!"
+
+"You do indeed look sad, little brother: where is your pain?"
+
+"In my eyes," moaned the boy, pouring out the words with a delightful
+sense of relief; for he was sure they dropped into a pitying heart.
+"Beloved little Jesus, let me tell you that since I saw you last I
+have been wickedly injured. Now I have always a pain in my eyes: there
+are two flames behind them, which burn day and night."
+
+"I grieve for you," said the Child with exquisite tenderness; "yet,
+dear boy, for all that, you might be ready for Christmas: but is there
+not also a pain throbbing and burning in your _heart_?"
+
+"Oh, if you mean that, I am tossed up and down by vexation: I am full
+of hatred against that terrible Jasper. It was all about a miserable
+Christmas-candle he carried. I broke it by pushing him down. Tell me,
+was he right to fly at me like a wild beast? Ought he not to suffer
+even as I have suffered? Is it just, is it right, for the great man's
+son to put out a peasant boy's eyes, and be happy again?"
+
+"Misguided Jasper!" said the Child solemnly; "let him answer for his
+own sin: judge not, little brother."
+
+Cristobal hid his face in his hands, and wept for shame.
+
+"Shall I give you ten golden words for a Christmas-gift? Will you
+hide them in your heart, and be happy?"
+
+"I will," answered Cristobal.
+
+"They are these," said the Child with a voice of wondrous sweetness:
+"Pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you."
+
+Cristobal repeated the words, a soft light stealing over his face. "I
+will remember," he said, looking up to meet the pleading eyes of the
+Child: but, lo! the whole face had melted into the aureola; nothing
+was left but light. Yet Cristobal was filled with a new joy; and, as
+he opened his eyes, his dream--if dream it were--changed, becoming as
+sweet and solemn as a prayer. It seemed to him that the roof of the
+cottage glittered with stars, and was no longer a roof, but the
+boundless sky; and, afar off, like remembered music, a voice fell on
+his ear, "For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father
+will also forgive you your trespasses."
+
+Cristobal arose, and, although still blind, walked in light. "It is
+the aureola which has stolen into my heart," thought Cristobal. "The
+pain and hate are all gone. Now I am ready for Christmas. I wish I
+could help poor Jasper, who has such a weight of guilt to carry!"
+
+Next day, "golden-sided" Burgundy saw no happier boy than Cristobal.
+He walked in the procession that night, carrying a candle whose light
+he could not see; but what did it signify, since there was light in
+his soul?
+
+Hark! In the midst of the Christmas-chimes breaks the jangling of
+fire-bells. The count's house is on fire! The sparks pour out thicker
+and faster; tongues of flame leap to the sky; the bells clang
+hoarsely; the Christmas procession is broken into wild disorder; the
+wheels of the engine roll through the streets, unheard in the din.
+
+Cristobal rushed eagerly toward the flames, but was pulled away by the
+people.
+
+"We cannot drown the fire!" they cried: "the building must fall! Are
+the inmates all safe?"
+
+"All, thank Heaven!" cried the count.
+
+"No: _Jasper_! See, he waves his hand from the third story! Save him!
+save my boy!"
+
+Jasper had set fire to a curtain with his fatal Christmas-candle. Now
+he raved and shouted in vain: no one would venture up the ladder.
+
+"O Little Jesus," whispered Cristobal, "give light to my eyes, even as
+unto my soul! Let me save Jasper!"
+
+At once the iron band fell from Cristobal's vision. He saw, and, at
+the same moment, felt a supernatural strength. He tore away from the
+restraining arms of the people; he rushed up the ladder, shouting, "In
+the name of the Little Jesus!" He reached the window, heedless of his
+scorched arms. "Jasper!" he cried, seizing the half-conscious boy, "be
+not afraid: I have the strength to carry you."
+
+And down the ladder he bore him, step by step, through the crackling
+flames.
+
+Jasper was revived; and the fainting Cristobal was borne through the
+streets in the arms of the populace.
+
+"Wonder of wonders!" they all shouted.
+
+"It was the Little Jesus," gasped Cristobal: "he opened my eyes; he
+guided me up the ladder, and down again!"
+
+"Hallelujah!" was now the cry. "On the birthday of our Lord, the
+blind receive their sight."
+
+"It is a triumph of faith," said the saints reverently.
+
+"A miracle," murmured the nuns, making the sign of the cross.
+
+"Not a miracle," replied the wise doctors, after they had first
+consulted their books: "it is only the electrifying of the optic
+nerve."
+
+But hardly any two could agree, and what was so mysterious at the time
+is no clearer now.
+
+"Dear little Cristobal," sobbed the broken-hearted Jasper, "how could
+you forgive such a wicked boy as I?"
+
+"It was very easy," replied Cristobal, "when once the Little Jesus
+called me 'brother,' and bade me pray for you."
+
+"Oh that I could repay you for your wonderful deed of love," said
+Jasper, through his tears.
+
+"Do not thank me," whispered Cristobal, with a look of awe; "thank the
+Little Jesus. And when he comes again next year, to ask what feelings
+we hold in our hearts, let us both be ready for Christmas."
+
+
+
+
+WILD ROBIN.
+
+A SCOTTISH FAIRY TALE.
+
+
+In the green valley of the Yarrow, near the castle-keep of Norham,
+dwelt an honest, sonsy little family, whose only grief was an unhappy
+son, named Robin.
+
+Janet, with jimp form, bonnie eyes, and cherry cheeks, was the best of
+daughters; the boys, Sandie and Davie, were swift-footed, brave, kind,
+and obedient; but Robin, the youngest, had a stormy temper, and, when
+his will was crossed, he became as reckless as a reeling hurricane.
+Once, in a passion, he drove two of his father's "kye," or cattle,
+down a steep hill to their death. He seemed not to care for home or
+kindred, and often pierced the tender heart of his mother with sharp
+words. When she came at night, and "happed" the bed-clothes carefully
+about his form, and then stooped to kiss his nut-brown cheeks, he
+turned away with a frown, muttering, "Mither, let me be."
+
+It was a sad case with Wild Robin, who seemed to have neither love nor
+conscience.
+
+"My heart is sair," sighed his mother, "wi' greeting over sich a son."
+
+"He hates our auld cottage and our muckle wark," said the poor father.
+"Ah, weel! I could a'maist wish the fairies had him for a season, to
+teach him better manners."
+
+This the gudeman said heedlessly, little knowing there was any danger
+of Robin's being carried away to Elf-land. Whether the fairies were at
+that instant listening under the eaves, will never be known; but it
+chanced, one day, that Wild Robin was sent across the moors to fetch
+the kye.
+
+"I'll rin away," thought the boy: "'tis hard indeed if ilka day a
+great lad like me must mind the kye. I'll gae aff; and they'll think
+me dead."
+
+So he gaed, and he gaed, over round swelling hills, over old
+battle-fields, past the roofless ruins of houses whose walls were
+crowned with tall climbing grasses, till he came to a crystal sheet of
+water, called St. Mary's Loch. Here he paused to take breath. The sky
+was dull and lowering; but at his feet were yellow flowers, which
+shone, on that gray day, like freaks of sunshine.
+
+He threw himself wearily upon the grass, not heeding that he had
+chosen his couch within a little mossy circle known as a "fairy's
+ring." Wild Robin knew that the country people would say the fays had
+pressed that green circle with their light feet. He had heard all the
+Scottish lore of brownies, elves, will-o'-the-wisps, and the strange
+water-kelpies, who shriek with eldritch laughter. He had been told
+that the queen of the fairies had coveted him from his birth, and
+would have stolen him away, only that, just as she was about to seize
+him from the cradle, he had _sneezed_; and from that instant the
+fairy-spell was over, and she had no more control of him.
+
+Yet, in spite of all these stories, the boy was not afraid; and if he
+had been informed that any of the uncanny people were, even now,
+haunting his footsteps, he would not have believed it.
+
+"I see," said Wild Robin, "the sun is drawing his night-cap over his
+eyes, and dropping asleep. I believe I'll e'en take a nap mysel', and
+see what comes o' it."
+
+In two minutes he had forgotten St. Mary's Loch, the hills, the moors,
+the yellow flowers. He heard, or fancied he heard, his sister Janet
+calling him home.
+
+"And what have ye for supper?" he muttered between his teeth.
+
+"Parritch and milk," answered the lassie gently.
+
+"Parritch and milk! Whist! say nae mair! Lang, lang may ye wait for
+Wild Robin: he'll not gae back for oat-meal parritch!"
+
+Next a sad voice fell on his ear.
+
+"Mither's; and she mourns me dead!" thought he; but it was only the
+far-off village-bell, which sounded like the echo of music he had
+heard lang syne, but might never hear again.
+
+"D'ye think I'm not alive?" tolled the bell. "I sit all day in my
+little wooden temple, brooding over the sins of the parish."
+
+"A brazen lie!" cried Robin.
+
+"Nay, the truth, as I'm a living soul! Wae worth ye, Robin Telfer: ye
+think yersel' hardly used. Say, have your brithers softer beds than
+yours? Is your ain father served with larger potatoes or creamier
+buttermilk? Whose mither sae kind as yours, ungrateful chiel? Gae to
+Elf-land, Wild Robin; and dool and wae follow ye! dool and wae follow
+ye!"
+
+The round yellow sun had dropped behind the hills; the evening breezes
+began to blow; and now could be heard the faint trampling of small
+hoofs, and the tinkling of tiny bridle-bells: the fairies were
+trooping over the ground. First of all rode the queen.
+
+    "Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,
+      Her mantle of the velvet fine;
+    At ilka tress of her horse's mane
+      Hung fifty silver bells and nine."
+
+But Wild Robin's closed eyes saw nothing; his sleep-sealed ears heard
+nothing. The queen of fairies dismounted, stole up to him, and laid
+her soft fingers on his cheeks.
+
+"Here is a little man after my ain heart," said she: "I like his
+knitted brow, and the downward curve of his lips. Knights, lift him
+gently, set him on a red-roan steed, and waft him away to Fairy-land."
+
+Wild Robin was lifted as gently as a brown leaf borne by the wind; he
+rode as softly as if the red-roan steed had been saddled with satin,
+and shod with velvet. It even may be that the faint tinkling of the
+bridle-bells lulled him into a deeper slumber; for when he awoke it
+was morning in Fairy-land.
+
+Robin sprang from his mossy couch, and stared about him. Where was he?
+He rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Dreaming, no doubt; but what
+meant all these nimble little beings bustling hither and thither in
+hot haste? What meant these pearl-bedecked caves, scarcely larger than
+swallows' nests? these green canopies, overgrown with moss? He pinched
+himself, and gazed again. Countless flowers nodded to him, and seemed,
+like himself, on tiptoe with curiosity, he thought. He beckoned one of
+the busy, dwarfish little brownies toward him.
+
+"I ken I'm talking in my sleep," said the lad; "but can ye tell me
+what dell is this, and how I chanced to be in it?"
+
+The brownie might or might not have heard; but, at any rate, he
+deigned no reply, and went on with his task, which was pounding seeds
+in a stone mortar.
+
+"Am I Robin Telfer, of the Valley of Yarrow, and yet canna shake aff
+my silly dreams?"
+
+"Weel, my lad," quoth the queen of the fairies, giving him a smart tap
+with her wand, "stir yersel', and be at work; for naebody idles in
+Elf-land."
+
+Bewildered Robin ventured a look at the little queen. By daylight she
+seemed somewhat sleepy and tired; and was withal so tiny, that he
+might almost have taken her between his thumb and finger, and twirled
+her above his head; yet she poised herself before him on a
+mullein-stalk, and looked every inch a queen. Robin found her gaze
+oppressive; for her eyes were hard and cold and gray, as if they had
+been little orbs of granite.
+
+"Get ye to work, Wild Robin!"
+
+"What to do?" meekly asked the boy, hungrily glancing at a few kernels
+of rye which had rolled out of one of the brownie's mortars.
+
+"Are ye hungry, my laddie? touch a grain of rye if ye dare! Shell
+these dry bains; and if so be ye're starving, eat as many as ye can
+boil in an acorn-cup."
+
+With these words she gave the boy a withered bean-pod, and, summoning
+a meek little brownie, bade him see that the lad did not over-fill the
+acorn-cup, and that he did not so much as peck at a grain of rye.
+Then, glancing sternly at her unhappy prisoner, she withdrew, sweeping
+after her the long train of her green robe.
+
+The dull days crept by, and still there seemed no hope that Wild Robin
+would ever escape from his beautiful but detested prison. He had no
+wings, poor laddie; and he could neither become invisible nor draw
+himself through a keyhole bodily.
+
+It is true, he had mortal companions: many chubby babies; many
+bright-eyed boys and girls, whose distracted parents were still
+seeking them, far and wide, upon the earth. It would almost seem that
+the wonders of Fairy-land might make the little prisoners happy. There
+were countless treasures to be had for the taking, and the very dust
+in the little streets was precious with specks of gold: but the poor
+children shivered for the want of a mother's love; they all pined for
+the dear home-people. If a certain task seemed to them particularly
+irksome, the heartless queen was sure to find it out, and oblige them
+to perform it, day after day. If they disliked any article of food,
+that, and no other, were they forced to eat, or starve.
+
+Wild Robin, loathing his withered beans and unsalted broths, longed
+intensely for one little breath of fragrant steam from the toothsome
+parritch on his father's table, one glance at a roasted potato. He was
+homesick for the gentle sister he had neglected, the rough brothers
+whose cheeks he had pelted black and blue; and yearned for the very
+chinks in the walls, the very thatch on the home-roof.
+
+Gladly would he have given every fairy-flower, at the root of which
+clung a lump of gold ore, if he might have had his own coverlet
+"happed" about him once more by the gentle hands he had despised.
+
+"Mither," he whispered in his dreams, "my shoon are worn, and my feet
+bleed; but I'll soon creep hame, if I can. Keep the parritch warm for
+me."
+
+Robin was as strong as a mountain-goat; and his strength was put to
+the task of threshing rye, grinding oats and corn, or drawing water
+from a brook.
+
+Every night, troops of gay fairies and plodding brownies stole off on
+a visit to the upper world, leaving Robin and his companions in ever
+deeper despair. Poor Robin! he was fain to sing,--
+
+    "Oh that my father had ne'er on me smiled!
+      Oh that my mother had ne'er to me sung!
+    Oh that my cradle had never been rocked,
+      But that I had died when I was young!"
+
+Now, there was one good-natured brownie who pitied Robin. When he took
+a journey to earth with his fellow-brownies, he often threshed rye for
+the laddie's father, or churned butter in his good mother's dairy,
+unseen and unsuspected. If the little creature had been watched, and
+paid for these good offices, he would have left the farmhouse forever
+in sore displeasure.
+
+To homesick Robin he brought news of the family who mourned him as
+dead. He stole a silky tress of Janet's fair hair, and wondered to see
+the boy weep over it; for brotherly affection is a sentiment which
+never yet penetrated the heart of a brownie. The dull little sprite
+would gladly have helped the poor lad to his freedom, but told him
+that only on one night of the year was there the least hope, and that
+was on Hallow-e'en, when the whole nation of fairies ride in
+procession through the streets of earth.
+
+So Robin was instructed to spin a dream, which the kind brownie would
+hum in Janet's ear while she slept. By this means the lassie would not
+only learn that her brother was in the power of the elves, but would
+also learn how to release him.
+
+Accordingly, the night before Hallow-e'en, the bonnie Janet dreamed
+that the long-lost Robin was living in Elf-land, and that he was to
+pass through the streets with a cavalcade of fairies. But, alas! how
+should even a sister know him in the dim starlight, among the passing
+troops of elfish and mortal riders? The dream assured her that she
+might let the first company go by, and the second; but Robin would be
+one of the third:--
+
+    "First let pass the black, Janet,
+      And syne let pass the brown;
+    But grip ye to the milk-white steed,
+      And pull the rider down.
+
+    For _I_ ride on the milk-white steed,
+      And aye nearest the town:
+    Because I was a christened lad
+      They gave me that renown.
+
+    My right hand will be gloved, Janet;
+      My left hand will be bare;
+    And these the tokens I give thee:
+      No doubt I will be there.
+
+    They'll shape me in your arms, Janet,
+      A toad, snake, and an eel
+    But hold me fast, nor let me gang,
+      As you do love me weel.
+
+    They'll shape me in your arms, Janet,
+      A dove, bat, and a swan:
+    Cast your green mantle over me,
+      I'll be myself again."
+
+The good sister Janet, far from remembering any of the old sins of her
+brother, wept for joy to know that he was yet among the living. She
+told no one of her strange dream; but hastened secretly to the Miles
+Cross, saw the strange cavalcade pricking through the greenwood, and
+pulled down the rider on the milk-white steed, holding him fast
+through all his changing shapes. But when she had thrown her green
+mantle over him, and clasped him in her arms as her own brother
+Robin, the angry voice of the fairy queen was heard:--
+
+    "Up then spake the queen of fairies,
+      Out of a bush of rye,
+    'You've taken away the bonniest lad
+      In all my companie.
+
+    'Had I but had the wit, yestreen,
+      That I have learned to-day,
+    I'd pinned the sister to her bed
+      E're he'd been won away!'"
+
+However, it was too late now. Wild Robin was safe, and the elves had
+lost their power over him forever. His forgiving parents and his
+leal-hearted brothers welcomed him home with more than the old love.
+
+So grateful and happy was the poor laddie, that he nevermore grumbled
+at his oat-meal parritch, or minded his kye with a scowling brow.
+
+But to the end of his days, when he heard mention of fairies and
+brownies, his mind wandered off in a mizmaze. He died in peace, and
+was buried on the banks of the Yarrow.
+
+
+
+
+THE VESPER STAR.
+
+
+Once upon a time, the new moon was shining like a silver bow in the
+heavens, and the stars glittered and trembled as if they were afraid.
+
+"What frightens you?" said the placid Moon; "be calm, like me."
+
+"I am freezing," answered the North Star; "that is why I shake."
+
+"We are dancing," said the Seven Sisters; "and, watch as closely as
+you please, you can never get a fair peep at our golden sandals, our
+feet twinkle so."
+
+"I am sleepy," grumbled the Great Bear; "I am trying to keep my eyes
+open. Perhaps that is the reason I wink so much."
+
+Thus, with one accord, they made excuses to the pale Moon, who is
+their guardian,--all but the sweet Vesper Star: she was silent; and
+when a white cloud floated by, she was glad of an excuse to hide her
+face.
+
+"Let the North Star shiver, and the Seven Sisters dance, and all the
+golden stars hold a revel," thought she; "as for me, I am sad."
+
+For you must know that the Vesper Star has a task to perform, and is
+not allowed to sleep. She keeps vigil over the Earth, by night; and
+never ceases her watch till the world is up in the morning. For the
+sick and sad, who cannot sleep, she feels an unutterable pity, so that
+her heart is always throbbing with sorrow.
+
+The Moon looked at the Vesper Star, and said, "Dream on, sweet sister;
+for you, the noblest of all, have told me no falsehood."
+
+This the Moon said because she knew that none of the stars had given
+a true reason for twinkling so gayly that night. The truth was, they
+were filled with envy, and were trying to be as brilliant as possible,
+to compete with a flaming Comet which had just appeared in the sky.
+
+It is not for man to know how long and how peacefully the gentle stars
+had travelled together, doing the work which God has appointed,
+without a murmur. But now that this distinguished stranger had
+arrived, the whole firmament was in dismay. How proudly he strode the
+heavens! how his blaze illumined the sky! The Stars whispered one to
+another, and cast angry eyes on the shining wonder.
+
+"Make way for me," he said, sweeping after him a glorious train of
+light.
+
+"Not I," muttered the fiery Mars.
+
+"Not I," quoth the majestic Jupiter; "I do not move an inch."
+
+The Comet flashed with a lofty disdain.
+
+"Puny Stars," said he, "keep your places, give out all your
+light,--nobody heeds you; the place of honor is always by the Vesper
+Star; here I make my throne."
+
+The Vesper Star smiled sadly, but without a twinge of envy.
+
+"Welcome, shining one! Warm me with your fires; let us work together."
+
+"Work!" cried the Comet, throwing out sparkles of scorn; "I was not
+born to work, but to _shine_!"
+
+"Indeed!" said the Vesper Star; "you have come into strange company,
+then; for here we all work with a good will." "He does not burn with
+the true fire," thought the good Star; and she wrapped herself about
+with a soft cloud, and said no more.
+
+"Oh that I could be set on fire like the Comet!" thought the cold
+North Star. "I would gladly burn to death if I could astonish the
+world with my blaze!"
+
+"Let us die!" said the Seven Sisters; "let us die together; we have
+ceased to be noticed."
+
+"Ah, hum!" growled the Great Bear; "so many years as I have kept watch
+in this sky; and now to be set one side by this upstart of a
+foreigner! I've a great mind to go to sleep and never wake up!"
+
+"Hush!" whispered the Vesper Star gently; "do your duty, and trust God
+for the rest."
+
+And lo! that very night there was an end of the Comet's splendor.
+
+"Adieu, my dull friends," said he; "I am tired of a quiet life: a
+little more, and I should fade out entirely!"
+
+Then, with a blaze and a whiz, and a dizzy wheel, he flashed out of
+the sky; and no one knew whither he went, or whence he came, any more
+than the path of the quick lightning.
+
+The stars were ashamed of their envy, and went to their old work with
+a stronger will and a steadier purpose: but to the Vesper Star was
+given a brighter and sweeter light than to any other, because she had
+done her work without envy and without repining.
+
+
+
+
+THE WATER-KELPIE.
+
+
+Once there lived under the earth a race of fairies called gnomes. They
+were strange little beings, with dull eyes and harsh voices; but they
+did no harm, and lived in peace.
+
+They never saw the sun; but they had lamps much brighter than our
+gaslight, which burned night and day, year after year.
+
+They had music; but it was the tinkling of silver bells and golden
+harps,--not half so sweet as the singing of birds and the babbling of
+brooks.
+
+Flowers they had none, but plenty of gems,--"the stars of earth."
+There were green trees in the kingdom: but the leaves were hard
+emeralds; and the fruit, apples of gold or cherries of ruby; and these
+precious gems the gnomes ground to powder, and swallowed with much
+satisfaction.
+
+They heaped up piles of gold and diamonds as high as your head; and
+never was there a gnome so poor as to build a house of any thing a
+whit coarser than jasper or onyx. You would have believed yourself
+dreaming, if you could have walked through the streets of their
+cities. They were paved with rosy almandine and snowy alabaster; and
+the palaces glittered in the gay lamplight like a million stars.
+
+These gnomes led, for the most part, rather dull lives. Like their
+cousins, the water-sprites, or undines, they were roguish and shrewd,
+but had no higher views of life than our katydids and crickets.
+Indeed, they hardly cared for any thing but frisking about, eating
+and sleeping. But, after all, what can be expected of creatures
+without souls? One sees, now and then, stupid human beings, whose eyes
+have no thoughts in them, and whose souls seem to be sound asleep.
+Such lumps of dulness might almost as well be gnomes, and slip into
+the earth and have done with it.
+
+These underground folk had a great horror of our world. They knew all
+about it; for one of them had peeped out and taken a bird's-eye view.
+He went up very bravely, but hurried back with such strange accounts,
+that his friends considered him a little insane.
+
+"Listen!" said the gnome, whose name was Clod. "The earth has a soft
+carpet, of a new kind of emerald; overhead is a blue roof, made of
+turquoise; but I am told that there is a crack in it, and sometimes
+water comes pouring down in torrents. But the worst plague of all is
+a great glaring eye-ball of fire, which mortals call the sun."
+
+When Clod told his stories of the earth, he always ended by saying,--
+
+"Believe me, it is bad luck to have the sun shine on you. It nearly
+put my eyes out; and I have had the headache ever since."
+
+Now, there was a young girl, named Moneta, who listened very eagerly
+to the old gnome's stories of the earth, and thought she would like to
+see it for herself. She was a kind little maiden, as playful as a
+kitten; and her friends were not willing she should go. But Moneta had
+somewhere heard that fairies who marry mortals receive the gift of a
+human soul: so, in spite of all objections, she was resolved to take
+the journey; for she had in her dark mind some vague aspirations after
+a higher state of being.
+
+Then the gnome-family declared, that, if she once went away, they
+would never allow her to return; for they highly disapproved of
+running backward and forward between the two worlds, gossiping.
+
+"Have you no love of country," cried they, "that you would willingly
+cast your lot among silly creatures who look down upon your race?"
+
+The old gnome, who had travelled, took the romantic maiden one side,
+and said,--
+
+"My dear Moneta, since you _will_ go, I must tell you a secret; for
+you remember I have seen the world, and know all about it. Mortals are
+a higher race than ourselves, it is true; but that is only because
+they live atop o' the earth, while we are under their feet. They make
+a great parade about their little ticking jewel they call Conscience;
+but, after all, they will any of them sell it for one of our
+ear-rings! I assure you they love money better than their own souls;
+and I would advise you, as a friend that has seen the world, to load
+yourself with as much gold as you can carry."
+
+So Moneta donned a heavy dress of spun gold, which was woven in such a
+manner, that, at every motion she made, it let fall a shower of
+gold-dust. She filled the sleeves with sardonyx, almandine, and
+amethyst; and hid in her bosom diamonds and sapphires enough to
+purchase a kingdom.
+
+Then she went up a steep ladder, and knocked on the alabaster ceiling,
+using the charm which the gnome had given her:--
+
+"Mother Earth, Mother Earth, set me free!"
+
+At her words there was a sound as of an earthquake, and a little space
+was made, just large enough for her to crawl through. When she had
+reached the top, the earth closed again, and she was left seated upon
+a rock; and the light of the sun was so dazzling, that she hid her
+face in her hands.
+
+Thus she sat for a long time, not knowing whither to go, till a young
+man chanced to come that way, who said, "What do you here?"
+
+She raised her face at his words, and could not speak, so great was
+her surprise at the beauty of the strange youth. He, for his part,
+could not help smiling; for she was as yellow as an orange; and an
+uglier little creature he had never beheld: but he said in a kind
+voice,--
+
+"Come with me to my mother's house, and you shall be refreshed with
+cake and wine."
+
+She arose to follow him; and, as she walked, a bright shower of
+gold-dust sprinkled the earth at every step.
+
+The young man held out his hands eagerly to catch the shining spray,
+thinking he would like such a rarely-gifted damsel for his wife; and,
+in truth, he smiled so sweetly, and dropped such winning words, that
+in time he won her heart and she became his bride.
+
+    "And, when she cam' into the kirk,
+      She shimmered like the sun;
+    The belt that was about her waist
+      Was a' with pearles bedone."
+
+So great was her love for him, that she forgot her lost home under the
+earth; and every day, when she bade her husband "good-morning," she
+placed in his hand a precious stone; and he kissed her, calling her
+his "dear Moneta," his "heart's jewel." But at last the diamonds,
+sapphires, and rubies were all gone; and she was also losing the power
+of shedding gold-dust. Then her husband frowned on her, and no longer
+called her his "heart's jewel," or his "dear Moneta."
+
+At length she presented him with a little daughter as lovely as a
+water-sprite, with hair like threads of gold. Now the father watched
+the babe with a greedy eye; for its mother had wept precious tears of
+molten gold before she received the gift of human grief, and he hoped
+her child would do the same; but, when he found it was only a common
+mortal, he shut his heart against the babe. Moneta was no longer
+yellow and ugly, but very beautiful; with deep eyes, out of which
+looked a sweet soul: yet she had lost her fairy gifts, and her husband
+had ceased to love her. The good woman mourned in secret; and would
+have wished to die, only her precious child comforted her heart.
+
+One day, as she was sitting by the shore of the lake, a water-kelpie
+saw her weeping, and came to her in the form of a white-haired old
+man, saying,--
+
+"Charming lady! why do you weep? Come with me to my kingdom under the
+waters. My people are always happy."
+
+Then she looked where he bade her, and saw, afar down under the
+waters, a beautiful city, whose streets were paved with red and white
+coral.
+
+The kelpie said, "Will you go down?"
+
+"No," sighed Moneta, thinking of the kind words her husband had
+sometimes spoken to her: "I cannot go yet."
+
+But the kelpie came every day, repeating the question, "Will you go
+now?" and she answered, "I cannot go yet."
+
+But at last her husband said,--
+
+"How often the thought comes to me, If I had no wife and child, all
+this gold would be mine!" and he knitted his brows with a frown.
+
+Then Moneta looked in his face, and said,--
+
+"Dear Ivan, I have loved you truly; but you no longer care for Moneta.
+I will go away with the little child, and all our gold shall be yours.
+Farewell!"
+
+Then she embraced him with falling tears. His heart was stirred within
+him; and he would have followed her, only he knew not which way she
+had gone.
+
+Soon the water-kelpie came to him in the form of a horse; and ran
+before him, neighing fiercely, and breathing fire from his mouth. This
+is the way kelpies take to announce the fact that some one has gone
+under the water.
+
+So the man followed the kelpie. His heart was swelling with grief;
+and all his love for his wife and child had come back to him.
+
+He looked into the lake, and saw the fair city. In a transparent
+palace Moneta was sitting, crowned with pearls, the child sleeping on
+her bosom. He shouted,--
+
+"Come back, O Moneta!" but she heard him not.
+
+He went every day to the same spot, never leaving it until the water
+was clear, and he had seen his wife and child. He cared no more for
+his fine castle and his gold; for the castle was empty, and the gold
+could not speak.
+
+"Alas," cried he, "if I could listen to the music of Moneta's voice!
+if I could hold the child in my arms once more!"
+
+Now he cared for nothing but to gaze into the waters at Moneta and her
+child.
+
+One day, the water-kelpie appeared to him in the form of an old man.
+
+    [Illustration: THE WATER-KELPIE. Page 70.]
+
+"Why sit you here, sighing like the north wind?" said the kelpie.
+
+"I have loved gold better than my best friends," replied Ivan; "and
+now my best friends are taken away from me, and the gold is left; but
+I love it no longer."
+
+"Ah, ah!" growled the kelpie; "I have heard of such men as you:
+nothing is dear till it is missed. You should have thought of that
+before. If your lost ones were to return, you would treat them as
+badly as ever, no doubt."
+
+"No, no," groaned Ivan; "I would love them better than all the wealth
+in the world! I would love them better than my own life! Ah, the sting
+it is to think of my own ingratitude!"
+
+"Hold!" said the kelpie: "grumble to yourself if you like, but don't
+vex my ears with your complaints. Suppose I were to bring back Moneta
+and the child,--would you give me your chests of gold?"
+
+"That I will," cried the man, "right joyfully."
+
+"Not so fast: will you give me your castle as well?"
+
+"Ah, yes, castle and gold; take them, and welcome."
+
+"Not so fast: Moneta and her child are worth more than these. Will you
+give me the castle and gold, and ten years of your life?"
+
+"With all my heart."
+
+"Then," said the kelpie "go home, and to-morrow you shall see Moneta
+and her child."
+
+When the morrow came, the husband and wife wept for joy at meeting
+once more; and Ivan said,--
+
+"Can you forgive me, dearest Moneta?"
+
+Moneta had already forgiven him; and the three--father, mother, and
+child--loved one another, and were content to the end of their lives;
+and Ivan said,--
+
+"Once for all I have found that gold cannot make one happy; but, with
+the blessing of a clear conscience, warm hearts and loving words are
+the sweetest things in life."
+
+
+
+
+THE LOST SYLPHID.
+
+    "I tell the tale as 'twas told to me."
+
+
+I have heard that one night, on a distant shore, a band of
+water-nixies were dancing to gentle music, their golden sandals
+twinkling like stars.
+
+A lord and lady were walking on the same shore. The lord's eyes were
+bent on the ground; but his wife paused, and said,--
+
+"Listen, my lord, to that enchanting music!"
+
+"I hear no music," he replied, laughing. "You must wake up, dear wife.
+
+    "With half-shut eyes, ever you seem
+    Falling asleep in a half-dream."
+
+"But, my lord, those exquisite beings in gossamer robes! surely you
+see them!"
+
+"I see the play of the moonbeams, my love, and nothing more."
+
+But the wife stood transfixed. One beautiful fairy, taller and fairer
+than her companions, had wings, and floated through the dance,
+scarcely touching the earth.
+
+"Was ever such a vision of loveliness?" cried the enraptured lady:
+"she must be my own little daughter,--eat of my bread, and sleep upon
+my bosom."
+
+Then, kneeling, she sang,--
+
+    "Fair little nixies, that dwell near the water,
+    Give me the winged one to be my own daughter."
+
+The dance ceased. The nixies, bewildered, looked north and south, and
+knew not which way to flee; but the winged fairy, attracted by the
+human love in the lady's eyes, glided slowly forward. Then the nixies
+stormed in fierce wrath, their willowy figures swaying to and fro as
+if blown by the wind.
+
+"They shall not harm you, little one. Come with me, be my own
+daughter, and I will carry you home."
+
+"Home!" echoed the lovely child; "my home is in the Summer-land. Oh,
+will you indeed carry me there?"
+
+Then she folded her white wings, and nestled in the lady's bosom like
+a gentle dove, and was borne to a beautiful castle that overlooked the
+sea. The water-nixies soon forgot her, for they could not hold her
+memory in their little humming-bird hearts.
+
+She was not of their race. Her wings were soft and transparent, like
+those of a white butterfly; and she ever declared that she had once
+alighted from a cloud, and been caught in a nixie's net spread upon
+the grass.
+
+But, in time, her wings dwindled and disappeared; and then the lord,
+who was now her father, could not remember that she had ever been
+other than an earthly child.
+
+"You fancy you were once a sylphid," said he; "but there are no
+sylphids, my sweet one, and there is no Summer-land."
+
+The child became as dear to the lord and lady as their very heart's
+blood; and they forgot her foreign birth, and almost believed, as all
+the world did, that she was their own little daughter. But the child
+did not forget. She longed for the true home she had left; but whither
+should she go to seek it?
+
+"Dear papa," said she, one day, "I beg you will not say again there
+are no sylphids; for I remember so well how I spread my wings and
+flew. It was glorious to see the clouds float under my feet!"
+
+"Very well," said the lord; "if you like, I will say there are
+sylphids in the air, and trolls inside the earth; and, once on a time,
+I was myself a great white butterfly: do you remember chasing me over
+a bed of roses?"
+
+"O papa, now you laugh! I love the twinkle in your eye; and I am so
+glad it is you, and no one else, who is my papa; but just the same,
+and forevermore, I shall keep saying, _I was a sylphid_!"
+
+Sometimes, when she set her white teeth into some delicious fruit, she
+said with dreamy eyes,--
+
+"These grapes of Samarcand came across the seas; but they are not so
+sweet as the fruit in my own garden, mamma."
+
+"And where is your garden, my child?"
+
+"Oh, in the Summer-land. I always forget that you have never seen it.
+When I go there again, mamma, I will certainly take you too; for I
+love you with all my heart. I can never go without you."
+
+When she heard the evening-bells from the minster, she said, "Oh, they
+are like the joy-bells at home, only not so sweet. Nothing, here, is
+so sweet. Even my dear mamma is not so lovely as the lady who comes
+when I am asleep."
+
+Little One--they called her Little One for the want of a name--loved
+to prattle about the wonders of that mysterious fairy-land, which no
+one but herself had ever seen. Her mother would not check her, but let
+her tell her pretty visions of remembered rainbows, and palaces, and
+precious gems. She said,--
+
+"The child has such a vivid fancy! It is not all of us who can see
+pictures when our eyes are shut."
+
+But the lord was not so well pleased; and once, when his daughter
+looked at a frozen stream and murmured, "_We_ have the _happiest_
+rivers at home; they sing all day long, all the year, without
+freezing! Can I find that Summer-land again! Oh, I would creep all
+over the world to seek it," he replied,--
+
+"Little One, it is some cloud-city you are thinking of, some
+dream-land, or isle of Long Ago, which you will never see again. I beg
+you to forget these wild fancies."
+
+But still the child dreamed on. Once she heard the glad song of the
+Hyperboreans:--
+
+    "I come from a land in the sun-bright deep,
+      Where golden gardens glow;
+    Where the winds of the North, becalmed in sleep,
+      Their conch-shells never blow."
+
+She clapped her hands, murmuring to herself,--
+
+"_There_ is my home! I think I remember now it _was_ 'a land in the
+sun-bright deep!'"
+
+So, when she journeyed with her parents to distant countries, she
+always hoped that some ship would bear her away to the Happy Isles;
+and when they once touched a bright shore, and some one cried, "The
+isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!" she thought she was home at
+last, and hardly dared look at the remembered shore. But, alas, she
+had not yet reached the Summer-land: this was not her home.
+
+Then she heard her father say that the jewels she wore had been
+brought up from the deep places under the earth.
+
+"I wonder I had not thought of that," she said to herself. "Since
+there are such beautiful gems in my lost home, it must lie under the
+earth. No doubt if I could only find the right cave, and walk in it
+far enough, I should come to the Summer-land."
+
+So she set out, one day, in wild haste, but only lost herself in a
+deep cavern; and, when she found daylight again, she was all alone
+upon the face of the earth. Her father and mother were nowhere to be
+seen. She shouted their names, and ran to and fro seeking them till
+her strength was all spent. It was growing dark; and Little One could
+only creep under a shelter, and weep herself asleep.
+
+Next morning it was no better, but far worse. Her wretched parents had
+gone home, believing her drowned in the sea. Poor Little One was now
+all alone in the world, and her heart ached with the cold. Kind
+friends gave her food and shelter, and her clothing was warm as warm
+could be; still her heart ached with the cold. People praised her
+beauty so much that she dared not look up to let them see how lovely
+she was; but she had lost both her father and mother, and her heart
+ached and ached. She thought winter was coming on; and the world was
+growing so chilly, that now she must certainly set out for the
+Summer-land. Then she said,--
+
+"If I am a sylphid, perhaps my home is over the hills, and far away.
+Yes: I think it must be in the country where the music goes."
+
+For she thought, when she heard music, that it seemed to hover and
+float over the earth, and lose itself in the sky; so she began to set
+her face toward the country where the music goes. But, though she
+gazed till her eyes ached, she never saw her long-lost home, nor so
+much as a glimpse of one of its spires.
+
+One night, after gazing and weeping till she could scarcely see, and
+had no tears left, the bright being who visited her dreams came and
+whispered,--
+
+    "If there be a land so fair
+      O'er the mountain shining,
+    You will never enter there
+      By looking up and pining."
+
+"Dear me! then what shall I do?" said Little One, clasping her hands.
+"I am tired of the dropping rain, and the bleak winds; I have lost my
+father and mother; I long to go home to the Summer-land."
+
+"There are hills to climb, and streams to cross," said the fairy.
+
+"But I have stout shoes," laughed Little One.
+
+"There are thorns and briers all along the road."
+
+"But I can bear to be pricked."
+
+"Then I will guide you," said the fairy.
+
+"How can that be?" cried the child. "You come to me in dreams; but by
+daylight I cannot see so much as the tips of your wings."
+
+"Listen, and you will hear my voice," replied the fairy. "Set out
+toward the East, at dawn, to-morrow, and I will be with you."
+
+When Little One awoke, the sun was rising, and she said,--
+
+"Oh that golden gate! The sun has left it open: do you see it,
+beautiful lady?"
+
+"I see it," whispered the fairy: "I am close beside you."
+
+"Then," said Little One, fastening her dress, and putting on all the
+jewels she could possibly carry, "I think I will set out at once; for,
+if I make all speed, I may reach the Summer-land before that golden
+gate is closed."
+
+She pressed on, as the fairy directed, up a steep hill, her eyes
+fixed on the glowing eastern sky. But, as the sun strode up higher,
+the morning clouds melted away.
+
+"Where is my golden gate?" cried the child.
+
+"Weeping so soon?" whispered the fairy.
+
+"Do not scold me, dear Whisper," moaned the child; "you know I have
+lost my kind father and mother; and the thorns prick me; and then this
+is such a lonely road; there is nobody to be seen."
+
+The truth was, there were children gathering strawberries on the hill,
+and old women digging herbs; but Little One did not see them, for she
+was all the while watching the sky. But she was soon obliged to pause,
+and take breath.
+
+"Look about you," said the Whisper, "you may see some one as unhappy
+as yourself."
+
+The child looked, and saw a little girl driving a goat; while large
+tears trickled down her cheeks, and moistened her tattered dress. For
+a moment, Little One's heart ceased aching with its own troubles.
+
+"What is your name, little girl?" said she: "and why do you weep?"
+
+"My name is Poor Dorel," replied the child; "my father and mother are
+long since dead; and I have nothing to eat but goat's milk and
+strawberries:" and, as she spoke, the large tears started afresh.
+
+"Poor Dorel! you are the first one I ever saw who had as much trouble
+as I. I, too, have lost a father and mother."
+
+"Were they a king and queen?" asked Dorel, wiping her eyes, and gazing
+at Little One's beautiful dress and glittering ornaments.
+
+"They loved me dearly," replied Little One sadly; "yet I never heard
+that they were king and queen. Come with me, darling Dorel! I never
+before saw any one who was hungry. Come with me! I live in a country
+where there is food enough for everybody."
+
+"Where is that?" said Dorel, eagerly.
+
+"I do not quite know, little girl; but it is not in the bosom of the
+earth, and it is not in the sun-bright deep: so I suppose it is over
+the hills, and far away."
+
+"Now I know who you are," said Dorel. "You are the _lost sylphid_; and
+people say you have travelled all over the world. But, if you do not
+know the way home, pray how can you tell which road to take?"
+
+"Oh! I have a guide,--a beautiful fairy, called Whisper: she shows me
+every step of the way. I wish you would go too, little Dorel!"
+
+"I think I will not, little Sylphid; for, if you have only a Whisper
+for a guide, I do not believe you will ever get there; but, oh, you
+are very, very beautiful!"
+
+"If you will not go," said Little One, "let me, at least, give you a
+few of my jewels: you can sell them for bread."
+
+So saying, she took from her girdle some turquoise ornaments, and
+placed them in Dorel's hand with a kiss which had her whole heart in
+it.
+
+"Now I love you," said Dorel; "but more for the kiss than any thing
+else; and I am going before you to cut down the thorns that shoot out
+by the wayside. I am a little mountain-girl, and know how to use the
+pruning-knife."
+
+Little One danced for joy. She found she could now walk with wonderful
+ease; for not only were there no more sharp thorns to prick her, but
+her heart was also full of a new love, which made the whole world look
+beautiful.
+
+"You see the way is growing easier," said the Whisper.
+
+    "Pour out thy love like the rush of a river,
+    Wasting its waters forever and ever."
+
+"So I will," said Little One. "Is there any one else to love?"
+
+By and by she met an old woman, bent nearly double, and picking up dry
+sticks with trembling hands.
+
+"Poor woman!" said Little One: "I am going to love you."
+
+"Dear me!" said the old crone, dropping her sticks, and looking up
+with surprise in every wrinkle: "you don't mean _me_? Why, my heart is
+all dried up."
+
+"Then you need to be loved all the more," cried Little One heartily.
+
+The poor woman laughed; but, at the same time, brushed a tear from
+her eye with the corner of her apron.
+
+"I thought," said Little One, "I was the only unhappy one in the
+world: it seemed a pity my heart should ache so much; but, oh, I would
+rather have it ache than be dried up!"
+
+"I suppose you never were beaten," said the old woman; "you were never
+pelted with whizzing stones?"
+
+"Indeed I never, never was!" replied Little One, greatly shocked by
+the question.
+
+"By your costly dress, I know you never were so poor as to be always
+longing for food. Let me tell you, my good child, when one is beaten
+and scolded, and feels cold all winter, and hungry all summer, it is
+no wonder one's heart dries up!"
+
+Little One threw her arms about the old woman's neck. "Let me help
+you pick sticks!" said she; "you are too old for hard work; your hands
+tremble too much."
+
+Swiftly gathering up a load of fagots, she put them together in a
+bundle.
+
+"Now, how many jewels shall I give her?" thought the child. "She must
+never want for food again."
+
+"How many?" echoed the Whisper.
+
+    "Give as the morning that flows out of heaven:
+    Give as the free air and sunshine are given."
+
+"Then she shall have half," said Little One in great glee. "Here, poor
+woman, take these sapphires and rubies and diamonds, and never be
+hungry again!"
+
+"Heavenly child!" said the stranger, laying her wasted hand on the
+sylphid's bright head, and blessing her, "it is little except thanks
+that an old creature like me can give; yet may be you will not scorn
+this pair of little shoes: they are strong, and, when you have to step
+on the sharp mountain-rocks, they will serve you well."
+
+Little One's delicate slippers were already much worn, and she gladly
+exchanged them for the goat-skin shoes; but, strange to relate, no
+sooner had she done so than she found herself flitting over rocks and
+rough places with perfect ease, and at such speed, that, when she
+looked back, in a moment, she had already left the old woman far
+behind, and out of sight. They were magical shoes; but, no matter how
+fast they skimmed over the ground, Dorel, out of pure love, continued
+to go before, talking and laughing and smoothing the way.
+
+One by one Little One sold her jewels to buy bread, which she shared
+with all the needy she chanced to meet. After many days there
+remained but one gem; and she wept because she had no more to give.
+But, through her tears, she now, for the first time, fancied she could
+see the spires and turrets of her beautiful home, though, as yet, very
+far off.
+
+"How fast I have come!" said she, laughing with delight. "But for
+these magical shoes, and Dorel's pruning-knife, I should have been
+even now struggling at the foot of the hill."
+
+Then she looked down at her torn dress.
+
+"What a sad plight I am in! no one will know me when I get home!"
+
+"Never fear!" said the fairy: "you are sure to be welcome."
+
+Little One now held up her last jewel in the sunlight, while a
+starving boy looked at it with eager eyes.
+
+"Take it!" said she, weeping with the tenderest pity. "I only wish
+it were a diamond instead of a ruby,--a diamond as large as my heart!"
+
+    [Illustration: THE LOST SYLPHID. Page 95.]
+
+The boy blessed her with a tremulous voice. Little One pressed on,
+singing softly to herself, till she came to a frightful chasm, full of
+water.
+
+"How shall I ever cross it!" she cried in alarm.
+
+"May I help you, fair Sylphid?" said the grateful boy to whom she had
+given her last jewel. "I can make a bridge in the twinkling of an
+eye."
+
+So saying, he threw across the roaring torrent a film which looked as
+frail as any spider's web.
+
+"It will bear you," said the Whisper: "do not be afraid!"
+
+So Little One ventured upon the gossamer bridge, which was to the eye
+as delicate as mist; but to the feet as strong as adamant. She hushed
+her fears, and walked over it with a stout heart.
+
+Now, she was on the borders of the Summer-land. Here were the turrets
+and spires, the soft white clouds, the green fields, and sunny
+streams. Instantly her long-lost wings appeared again; and she spread
+them like a happy bird, and flew home. Oh, it was worth years of
+longing and pain! She was held in tender embraces, and kissed lovingly
+by well-remembered friends. To her great surprise and delight, her
+father and mother were both there--they had arrived at the Summer-land
+while seeking their Little One.
+
+"Now I know," said her father, "that my daughter was not dreaming when
+she longed for her remembered home."
+
+Little One looked at her soiled dress; but the stains had disappeared;
+and, most wonderful! all the jewels she had worn on her neck and
+arms, and in her girdle, were there yet, burning with increased
+brilliancy. Little One gazed again, and counted to see if any were
+missing. Yes: two she had sold for bread were not there. It was the
+jewels she had _given away_ which had come back in some mysterious
+manner and were more resplendent than before.
+
+"Ah!" said she, with a beaming smile, "now I know what it means when
+they say, 'All you give, you will carry with you.' It was delightful
+to scatter my gems by the wayside; but I did not think they would all
+be given back to me when I reached home!"
+
+Then, intwining arms with a bright sylphid, she flew with her over the
+gardens in a trance of delight.
+
+"Here," said Little One, "is my own dear garden. I remember the border
+and the paths right well; but it never bore such golden fruit, it
+never glowed with such beautiful flowers."
+
+"Your fairy, the one you call Whisper, has taken care of it for your
+sake," said the sister sylphid. "Do you know that those flowers, and
+those trees with fruit like 'bonny beaten gold,' have been watered by
+your tears, Little One? It is in this way they have attained their
+matchless beauty and grace."
+
+"_My tears_, little sister?"
+
+"Yes, your tears. Every one you shed upon earth, your fairy most
+carefully preserved; and see what wonders have been wrought!"
+
+"If I had known that," said Little One clapping her hands, "I would
+have been _glad_ of all my troubles! I would have smiled through my
+tears!"
+
+Now I know no more than I have told of this story of the Lost
+Sylphid. I tell the tale as 'twas told to me; and I wish, with all my
+heart, it were true.
+
+
+
+
+THE CASTLE OF GEMS.
+
+
+Once upon a time, though I cannot tell when, and in what country I do
+not now remember, there lived a maiden as fair as a lily, as gentle as
+a dewdrop, and as modest as a violet. A pure, sweet name she had,--it
+was Blanche.
+
+She stood one evening, with her friend Victor, by the shore of a lake.
+Never had the youth or maiden seen the moonlight so enchanting; but
+they did not know
+
+    "It was midsummer day,
+    When all the fairy people
+    From elf-land come away."
+
+Presently, while they gazed at the lake, which shone like liquid
+emerald and sapphire and topaz, a boat, laden with strangely
+beautiful beings, glided towards them across the waters. The fair
+voyagers were clad in robes of misty blue with white mantles about
+their waists, and on their heads wreaths of valley-lilies.
+
+They were all as fair as need be; but fairest of all was the
+helms-woman, the queen of the fairies. Her face was soft and clear
+like moonlight; and she wore a crown of nine large diamonds, which
+refracted the evening rays, and formed nine lunar rainbows.
+
+The fairies were singing a roundelay; and, as the melody floated over
+the waters, Victor and Blanche listened with throbbing hearts. Fairy
+music has almost passed away from the earth; but those who hear it are
+strangely moved, and have dreams of beautiful things which have been,
+and may be again.
+
+"It makes me think of the days of long ago when there was no sin,"
+whispered Blanche.
+
+"It makes me long to be a hero," answered Victor with a sparkling eye.
+
+All the while the pearly boat was drifting toward the youth and
+maiden; and, when it had touched the shore, the queen stepped out upon
+the land as lightly as if she had been made entirely of dewdrops.
+
+"I am Fontana," said she; "and is this Blanche?"
+
+She laid her soft hand upon the maiden's shoulder; and Blanche thought
+she would like to die then and there, so full was she of joy.
+
+"I have heard of thy good heart, my maiden: now what would please thee
+most?" said the queen.
+
+Blanche bowed her head, and dared not speak.
+
+Queen Fontana smiled: when she smiled it was as if a soft cloud had
+slid away from the moon, revealing a beautiful light.
+
+"Say pearls and diamonds," said Victor in her ear.
+
+"I don't know," whispered Blanche: "they are not the best things."
+
+"No," said the queen kindly: "pearls and diamonds are _not_ the best
+things."
+
+Then Blanche knew that her whisper had been overheard, and she hid her
+face in her hands for shame. But the queen only smiled down on her,
+and, without speaking, dropped into the ground a little seed. Right at
+the feet of Blanche, it fell; and, in a moment, two green leaves shot
+upward, and between them a spotless lily, which hung its head with
+modest grace.
+
+Victor gazed at the perfect flower in wonder, and, before he knew it,
+said aloud, "Ah, how like Blanche!"
+
+The queen herself broke it from the stem, and gave it to the maiden,
+saying,--
+
+"Take it! it is my choicest gift. Till it fades (which will never be),
+love will be thine; and, in time to come, it will have power to open
+the strongest locks, and swing back the heaviest doors.
+
+    "'Gates of brass cannot withstand
+    One touch of this magic wand.'"
+
+Blanche looked up to thank the queen; but no words came,--only tears.
+
+"I see a wish in thine eyes," said Fontana.
+
+"It is for Victor," faltered Blanche, at last: "he wishes to be rich
+and great."
+
+The queen looked grave.
+
+"Shall I make him one of the great men of the earth, little Blanche?
+Then he may one day go to the ends of the world, and forget thee."
+
+Blanche only smiled, and Victor's cheek flushed.
+
+"I shall be a great man," said he,--"perhaps a prince; but, where I
+go, Blanche shall go: she will be my wife."
+
+"That is well," said the queen: "never forget Blanche, for her love
+will be your dearest blessing."
+
+Then, removing from her girdle a pair of spectacles, she placed them
+in the youth's hand. He drew back in surprise. "Does she take me for
+an old man?" thought he. He had expected a casket of gems at least;
+perhaps a crown.
+
+"Wait," said Fontana: "they are the eyes of Wisdom. When you have
+learned their use, you will not despise my gift. Keep a pure heart,
+and always remember Blanche. And now farewell!"
+
+So saying, she moved on to the boat, floating over the ground as
+softly as a creeping mist.
+
+When Blanche awoke next morning, her first thought was, "Happy are the
+maidens who have sweet dreams!" for she thought she had only been
+wandering in a midsummer's night's dream; so, when she saw her lily in
+the broken pitcher where she had placed it, great was her delight. But
+a change had come over it during the night. It was no longer a common
+lily,--its petals were large pearls, and the green leaves were now
+green emeralds. This strange thing had happened to the flower, that it
+might never fade.
+
+After this, people looked at Blanche, and said, "How is it? she grows
+fairer every day!" and every one loved her; for the human heart has no
+choice but to love what is good and gentle.
+
+As for Victor, he at first put on his spectacles with a scornful
+smile: but, when he had worn them a moment, he found them very
+wonderful things. When he looked through them, he could see people's
+thoughts written out on their faces; he could easily decipher the fine
+writing which you see traced on green leaves; and found there were
+long stories written on pebbles in little black and gray dots.
+
+When he wore the spectacles, he looked so wise, that Blanche hardly
+dared speak to him. She saw that one day he was to become a great man.
+
+At last Victor said he must leave his home, and sail across the seas.
+Tears filled the eyes of Blanche; but the youth whispered,--
+
+"I am going away to find a home for you and me: so adieu, dearest
+Blanche!"
+
+Now Victor thought the ship in which he sailed moved very slowly; for
+he longed to reach the land which he could see through his magic
+spectacles: it was a beautiful kingdom, rich with mines of gold and
+silver.
+
+When the ship touched shore, the streets were lined with people who
+walked to and fro with sad faces. The king's daughter, a beautiful
+young maiden, was very ill; and it was feared she must die.
+
+Victor asked one of the people if there was no hope.
+
+It so happened that this man was the greatest physician in the kingdom
+and he answered,--
+
+"Alas, there is no hope!"
+
+Then Victor went to a distant forest where he knew a healing spring
+was to be found. Very few remembered it was there; and those who had
+seen it did not know of its power to heal disease.
+
+Victor filled a crystal goblet with the precious water, and carried
+it to the palace. The old king shook his head sadly, but consented to
+let the attendants moisten the parched lips of the princess with the
+water, as it could do no harm. Far from doing harm, it wrought a great
+good; and, in time, the royal maiden was restored to health.
+
+Then, for gratitude, the king would have given his daughter to Victor
+for a wife; but Victor remembered Blanche, and knew that no other
+maiden must be bride of his.
+
+Not long after this, the king was lost overboard at sea during a
+storm. Now the people must have a new ruler. They determined to choose
+a wise and brave man; and, young as he was, no man could be found
+braver and wiser than Victor: so the people elected him for their
+king. Thus Fontana's gift of the eyes of Wisdom had made him truly
+"one of the great men of earth."
+
+In her humble home, Blanche dreamed every night of Victor, and hoped
+he would grow good, if he did not become great; and Victor remembered
+Blanche, and knew that her love was his dearest blessing.
+
+"This old palace," thought he, "will never do for my beautiful bride."
+
+So he called together his people, and told them he must have a castle
+of gems. Some of the walls were to be of rubies, some of emeralds,
+some of pearls. There was to be any amount of beaten gold for doors
+and pillars; and the ceilings were to be of milk-white opals, with a
+rosy light which comes and goes.
+
+All was done as he desired; and, when the castle of gems was finished,
+it would need a pen of jasponyx dipped in rainbows to describe it.
+
+Victor thought he would not have a guard of soldiers for his castle,
+but would lock the four golden gates with a magic key, so that no one
+could enter unless the gates should swing back of their own accord.
+
+When the castle of gems was just completed, and not a soul was in it,
+Victor locked the gates with a magic key, and then dropped the key
+into the ocean.
+
+"Now," thought he, "I have done a wise thing. None but the good and
+true can enter my castle of gems. The gates will not swing open for
+men with base thoughts or proud hearts!"
+
+Then he hid himself under the shadow of a tree, and watched the people
+trying to enter. But they were proud men, and so the gates would not
+open.
+
+King Victor laughed, and said to himself,--
+
+"I have done a wise thing with my magic key. How safe I shall be in
+my castle of gems!"
+
+So he stepped out of his hiding-place, and said to the people,--
+
+"None but the good and true can get in."
+
+Then he tried to go in himself; but the gates would not move.
+
+The king bowed his head in shame, and walked back to his old palace.
+
+"Alas!" said he to himself, "wise and great as I am, I thought _I_
+could go in. I see it must be because I am filled with pride. Let me
+hide my face; for what would Blanche say if she knew, that, because my
+heart is proud, I am shut out of my own castle? I am not worthy that
+she should love me; but I hope I shall learn of her to be humble and
+good."
+
+The next day he sailed for the home of his childhood. When Blanche saw
+him, she blushed, and cast down her eyes; but Victor knew they were
+full of tears of joy. He held her hand, and whispered,--
+
+"Will you go with me and be my bride, beautiful Blanche?"
+
+"I will go with you," she answered softly; and Victor's heart
+rejoiced.
+
+All the while Blanche never dreamed that he was a great prince, and
+that the men who came with him were his courtiers.
+
+When they reached Victor's kingdom, and the people shouted "Long live
+the queen!" Blanche veiled her face, and trembled; for Victor
+whispered in her ear that the shouts were for her. And, as the people
+saw her beautiful face through her gossamer veil, they cried all the
+more loudly,--
+
+"Long live Queen Blanche! Thrice welcome, fair lady!"
+
+The sun was sinking in the west, and his rays fell with dazzling
+splendor upon the castle of gems. When Blanche saw the silent, closed
+castle and its golden gates, she remembered the words of Queen
+Fontana, who had said that her lily should have power to "open the
+strongest locks, and swing back the heaviest doors."
+
+Like one walking in a dream, she led Victor toward the resplendent
+castle. She touched, with her lily, the lock which fastened one of the
+gates.
+
+    "Gates of gold could not withstand
+    One touch of that magic wand."
+
+In an instant, the hinges trembled; and the massive door swung open so
+far, that forty people could walk in side by side. Then it slowly
+closed, and locked itself without noise.
+
+One of the people who passed in was the king, whose heart was no
+longer proud. The others, who had entered unwittingly, could not speak
+for wonder. Some of them were poor, and some were lame or blind; but
+all were good and true.
+
+At the rising of the moon a wonderful thing came to pass. The people
+entered the castle of gems, and became beautiful. This was through the
+power of the magic lily.
+
+Now there were no more crooked backs and lame feet and sightless eyes;
+and the king looked at these people, who were beautiful as well as
+good, and declared he would have them live in the castle; and the
+gentlemen should be knights; and the ladies, maids of honor.
+
+To this day Victor and Blanche rule the kingdom; and such is the charm
+of the lily,--so like the pure heart of the queen,--that the people
+are becoming gentle and good.
+
+Until Queen Fontana shall call for the magic spectacles and the lily
+of pearl, it is believed that Victor and Blanche will live in the
+castle of gems, though the time should be a hundred years.
+
+
+
+
+THE ELF OF LIGHT.
+
+A NORSE TALE.
+
+
+In the strange island of Iceland, thrown up, by fire, from the depths
+of the sea, there once lived a lad who worshipped the god Odin, and
+was taught from two absurd books called the Eddas. He wished to fight
+and die on a battle-field, so that his soul might cross a
+rainbow-bridge, and dwell in the beautiful halls of Valhalla.
+There--so the Eddas say--are the chosen heroes, who are forever
+fighting all day, and feasting all night.
+
+Thus, instead of a Bible, young Thule studied wild fairy-tales; yet,
+for all his heathenish training, he had some noble traits, which a
+Christian lad might imitate.
+
+He lived with his widowed mother at the edge of a forest. The snow
+piled itself in drifts, and the wind howled through the trees, and
+crept in at the windows; for the cottage was old, and a blind
+hurricane might almost have mistaken it for a heap of brushwood. But
+Thule was quite as happy as if the hut had been a palace. He loved the
+winter-beauty of his mother's face, and the silvery hair half hidden
+under her black cap. All the fire they burned was made of the dry
+sticks he gathered in the forest, and more than half the money they
+used was earned by his small hands.
+
+In one of the ice-months of the year, when the weather was sharper
+than a serpent's tooth, Thule came home from a hard day's work; and,
+the chillier he grew, the more he whistled to keep up a brave heart.
+Looking at the horizon before him, he saw the cold glare which we call
+Northern Lights, but which he knew to be the flickering of helmets and
+shields and spears.
+
+"The warlike maidens are out to-night," thought the boy: "they are
+going to the battle-fields to decide who is worthy to be slain. How I
+love to see the sky lighted up with the flash of their armor! Odin,
+grant I may one day be a hero, and walk over the bridge of a rainbow!"
+
+Then Thule went to his whistling again; but, just as he struck into
+the forest where the deep shadows lay, he heard a faint moan, which
+sounded like a human voice, or might have been a sudden gust of wind
+in a hollow tree.
+
+"Perchance it is some poor creature even colder than I," thought the
+boy: "I hope not a _troll_!"
+
+Hurrying to the spot whence the sound came, he found an ugly,
+long-nosed dwarf lying on the ground, nearly perishing with cold. It
+was growing late, and the boy himself was benumbed; but he went
+briskly to work, chafing the hands and face of the stranger, even
+taking off his own blue jacket to wrap it about the dwarf's neck.
+
+"Poor old soul, you shall not die of cold!" said he; then, helping him
+to rise, he added cheerily, "We will go to my mother's cottage, and
+have a warm supper of oat-cakes and herrings; and our fire of dry
+boughs will do you good."
+
+The noble boy knew there was barely supper enough for two, but did not
+mind going hungry to bed for charity's sake. In the ear of his heart,
+he heard the words of his mother:--
+
+"Never fear starving, my son, but freely share your last loaf with the
+needy."
+
+They walked through the forest, the old man leaning heavily on the
+youth's shoulder.
+
+"Why should you befriend a poor wretch who cannot repay you?" whined
+the dwarf in a hollow voice which startled Thule, it was so like the
+echo sent back by a mountain or a rock.
+
+"I do not ask or wish to be repaid," was the reply. "Don't you know
+what the proverb says? 'Do good, and throw it into the sea; if the
+fishes don't know it, _Odin_ will!'"
+
+"Yes: Odin shall know it, never fear," answered the dwarf; "but, as I
+happen to be informed that your tea-table is not quite large enough
+for three, I think I will decline your invitation to supper. Really,
+my lad," he continued, "it would delight me to do you a little favor;
+for, though I am only a poor dwarf, I know how to be grateful. By the
+way, have you seen such a thing hereabouts as a green alder-tree?"
+
+"A green alder-tree in winter-time!" cried Thule.
+
+"A curious thing, indeed," said the dwarf; "but I chanced to see one
+the other night in my rambles. Ah! look, here it is right before your
+eyes."
+
+All the other forest-trees were dry and hard, their hearts frozen
+within them; but this tree was alive, hidden behind a clump of firs.
+When Thule began to dig about its roots, it seemed to come out of the
+ground of its own free will, and to lie over his shoulders as if it
+would caress him.
+
+"Take home the little tree, and plant it before your door, my lad."
+
+The youth turned to thank the stranger; but he had vanished. Then
+Thule ran home with all speed to tell his mother of the little old man
+who had faded from his sight like a wreath of smoke.
+
+"Now I wonder what it is you have seen," said the good woman, raising
+her hands in surprise. "Was he brown, my son, with a long nose?"
+
+"As brown as a nut, mother, with no end of nose."
+
+"Just as I supposed, my child! That dwarf is a wonderful
+creature,--one of the night-elves, a race gifted with great
+understanding. Know, my son, that he carves runes upon stones; and he
+no doubt assisted in making Thor's hammer, that terrible instrument
+which can crush the skull of a giant."
+
+"One thing I observed," said the boy: "he blinked at that flashing in
+the sky, which people call Northern Lights; he had to shade his eyes
+with his funny little hand."
+
+"Did he, indeed? Poor Elf! Light is painful to his race; and I have
+even heard that a stroke of sunshine is able to turn them into
+stones. I am almost afraid of this little tree," added the good mother
+musingly. "You know what we read in the holy Eddas: Both the alder and
+the ash trees should be held sacred; for Odin formed man from the ash,
+and woman from the alder. Nevertheless, the night-elf could not have
+meant to do you a mischief. Let us plant the tree as he directed."
+
+"What, in the frozen ground, under the snow?"
+
+But it now, for the first time, appeared that there was a spot of
+earth near the south window, which must have been waiting for the
+tree, since it was as soft and warm as if the sun had been shining on
+it all the year. Here they planted the alder; and Thule brought water,
+and moistened the roots.
+
+Next morning the tree seemed to have grown a foot higher; and by
+daylight its leaves showed a silver lining.
+
+"May Odin favor my pretty alder!" said Thule; "nor let the frost pinch
+it, nor the winds blacken its green buds!"
+
+Thule went into the woods again; and, as he was whistling at his work,
+he happened to look down, and there, on the ground, at his feet, lay a
+purse, well lined with gold. He counted the pieces: fifty, all bright
+and new.
+
+"I will go to the town," thought the boy, shaking his head and sighing
+(for the gold was very tempting), "I will go to the town, and ask who
+has lost a purse with fifty pieces of precious gold. Ah, me! I wish I
+could keep it! then we should swim in herrings and oil; and who knows
+but, for once in my life, I might even get a taste of venison?"
+
+But next moment he loosened his greedy clutch at the purse. "No matter
+how bravely it shines! it is not _my_ gold; and it is too heavy for
+me to carry. Stolen money is worse than a mill-stone about one's neck,
+so my mother says."
+
+"Keep the purse, little boy," said a sweet voice close by his elbow.
+He turned, and saw a beautiful child, as radiant as a sunbeam, and
+clad in garments of delicate and transparent texture.
+
+"I will be your friend, little boy. That purse was dropped by a lady
+who wears a fur cloak and long veil. If she asks for her treasure, I
+can say it fell into a hole in the ground. Everybody believes me:
+never fear!"
+
+"Poor misguided angel!" said the boy, amazed by her wondrous beauty no
+less than by her apparent want of truth. "You are, indeed, a lovely
+little tempter; but I have a dear mother at home, and I love her
+better than a million pieces of gold. I must go to the town, and seek
+out this lady you mention, who wears a fur cloak and long veil."
+
+"Nay, if you will be so stupid," said the shining child, "why, I will
+even go with you, and show you the way."
+
+So, gliding gracefully before the bewildered youth, she led him out of
+the forest, into the most crowded part of the city, up to the door of
+a splendid mansion; but, when Thule turned his head only an instant,
+she was gone, and no trace of her was to be seen: she seemed to have
+melted into sunshine.
+
+The lady of the house received the purse with thanks, and would gladly
+have given Thule a piece of the gold; but, much as the boy longed for
+it, he put it aside, saying, "No, madam: my mother assures me I must
+be honest without the hope of reward. She would not like me to take
+wages for not being a thief!"
+
+The next morning the alder-tree had grown another foot; and Thule and
+his mother watched the growing leaves, and touched them with reverent
+fingers. They were certainly of a tender green, lined with shining
+silver.
+
+"May Odin favor my pretty alder!" said Thule; "nor let the frost pinch
+it, nor the winds blacken its green buds!"
+
+Then Thule kissed his mother, and trudged off to the forest as usual.
+But he seemed doomed to adventures; for this time he was met by three
+armed men, who were roaming the country as if seeking something.
+
+"Prithee, little urchin," said one of the men, "can you tell us what
+has become of a young alder-tree, whose green leaves are lined with
+silver?"
+
+"I dug up an alder-bush, kind sirs," replied the boy, trembling, and
+remembering that his mother had said she was almost afraid of that
+little tree.
+
+"There are many alder-bushes," said another of the men gruffly; "but
+only one is green at this time of year, and has silver-lined leaves.
+It was placed here by command of the giant Loki, and no one was to
+touch it under pain of death; for, when his mountain-garden should be
+laid out in the spring, the tree was to be uprooted, and planted
+therein."
+
+Thule grew almost as stiff and white as if a frost-giant had suddenly
+breathed on him. He knew that Loki was a pitiless god, feared by all,
+and beloved by none,--a god who had an especial grudge against the
+whole human race.
+
+"I will hold my peace," thought Thule. "I will never confess that the
+tree I carried away has silver-lined leaves. I will hasten home, pluck
+up the bush, and burn it: then who will be the wiser?"
+
+But Thule, in spite of his trembling, could not forget his good
+mother's counsel:--
+
+"Your words, my boy, let them be truth, and nothing but truth, though
+a sword should be swinging over your head."
+
+Then, as soon as his voice returned to him, he confessed that the tree
+he had removed was really just such an one as the men described, and
+begged for mercy, because, as he said, he had committed the sin
+ignorantly, not knowing the mandate of the terrible giant.
+
+But the men bade Thule lead them to his mother's house, and point out
+his stolen treasure; declaring that they could show no mercy; for,
+when Loki had made a decree, no man should alter it by one jot or one
+tittle.
+
+"Oh!" thought the unfortunate boy, wringing his hands, and trembling
+till the woollen tassel on his cap danced a gallopade, "oh, if the
+cruel night-elf, who led me into this mischief, would only come
+forward now, and help me out of it! But, alas, it is of no avail to
+invoke him; for it is now broad daylight, and the sun would strike him
+into a stone image in a twinkling."
+
+When Thule, followed by the messengers of Loki, had reached the door
+of his cottage, he found his gray-haired mother sprinkling the roots
+of the beautiful alder, and fondling its leaves with innocent
+pleasure. At sight of the armed men, she started back in affright.
+
+"It is indeed the giant's tree," said the men to Thule. "Pluck it up,
+and follow us with it to Loki's castle on the mountain."
+
+"To Loki's castle!" shrieked the wretched mother. "Then he must pass
+a frightful wilderness, be assailed by the frost-giants; and, if there
+be any breath left in him, Loki will dash it out at a glance! Have
+mercy on a poor old mother, O good soldiers!"
+
+The unhappy boy touched the tree, and it came out of the ground of its
+own free will; and, in a trice, stood on its feet, shook out its
+branches into arms, and in another moment was no longer a tree, but a
+child, with a beauty as dazzling as sunshine.
+
+"Unfortunate men!" said she, in a voice whose angriest tones were
+sweeter than the music of an Æolian harp, "unfortunate are you in
+being the servants of Loki! Go, tell your cruel master that the
+schemes he has plotted against me and mine have all failed: my
+enchantment is over forever. Yonder boy," said she, pointing to little
+Thule, "has saved me. I was, and still remain, an elf of light, as
+playful and harmless as sunshine. The merciless Loki, enraged at the
+love I bear the children of men, changed me to a little alder-tree,
+which is the emblem of girlhood. But he had no power to keep me in
+that form forever. He was obliged to make a condition, and he made the
+hardest one that his artful mind could invent: 'Since you love mortals
+so dearly,' said he, 'no one but a mortal shall free you from your
+imprisonment. You shall remain a tree till a good child shall touch
+you,--a child who is generous enough to SHARE HIS LAST LOAF WITH A
+STRANGER, honest enough to GIVE BACK A REWARD FOR HIS HONESTY, brave
+enough to SPEAK THE TRUTH WHEN A LIE WOULD HAVE SAVED HIS LIFE. Long
+shall you wait for such a deliverer!'
+
+"Now how amazed will Loki be when he learns that this little boy has
+been tempted in all these particulars, yet proves true. My poor
+soldiers, you may return whence you came, for the alder-tree will
+never rustle its silver leaves in the mountain-garden of Loki."
+
+Then the men disappeared, not sorry that the good boy had escaped his
+threatened doom.
+
+Thule, looking at the beautiful elf so lately a tree, could hardly
+trust his own eyes; and I fancy that many a boy, even at the present
+day, would have felt rather bewildered under the circumstances.
+
+"Shining child!" said he: "you look vastly like the wonderful little
+being who led me out of the forest yesterday."
+
+"That may well be," replied the elf of light; "for she is my sister.
+The brown dwarf who pointed out to you the alder-tree is also an
+excellent friend of mine, though, strange to say, I have never seen
+him. We love to aid each other in all possible ways; yet we can never
+meet, for there is a fatality in my eyes which would strike him dead.
+He had heard of Thule, the little woodcutter who was called so brave
+and generous and true. He tried you, you see; and so did my frolicsome
+sister, who was fairly ablaze with delight when she found you could
+not be tempted to steal!"
+
+Thule's mother had stood all the while on the threshold, overawed and
+dumb. Now she came forward, and said,--
+
+"I am prouder to-day than I should be if my son had slain ten men on
+the battle-field!"
+
+The beautiful elf of light, penetrated with gratitude and admiration,
+remained Thule's fast friend as long as he lived. She gave the lad
+and his mother an excellent home, and made them happy all the days of
+their lives.
+
+
+
+
+THE PRINCESS HILDA.
+
+
+Princess Hildegarde sat at an open window, looking out upon her garden
+of flowers. She was very beautiful, with a face as fair and sweet as a
+rose. Not far off sat, watching her, her young cousin Zora, with a
+frown on her brow.
+
+There was bitter hatred in Zora's heart because Hildegarde was rich
+and she was poor; because Hildegarde would, in time, be a queen, and
+she one of her subjects. Moreover, Hildegarde was so beautiful and
+good that the fame of her loveliness had spread far and wide; and it
+was for her beauty that Zora hated her more than for any thing else.
+
+In childhood Zora had been very fair; and the courtiers had petted
+her, and pronounced her even fairer than the princess; but her beauty
+had never meant any thing but bright eyes and cherry cheeks: so it
+could not last. If she had only cherished pure thoughts and kind
+wishes, she might still have been as lovely as Hilda; but who does not
+know that evil feelings write themselves on the face?
+
+Jealousy had pulled her mouth down at the corners; deceit had given it
+a foolish smirk; spite had plowed an ugly frown in her brow; while she
+had tried so many arts to make her rich brown skin as delicately white
+as Hilda's, that it was changed to the tint of chrome yellow.
+
+It was said in those days, that Zora was in the power of wicked
+fairies, who twisted her features into the shape that pleased them
+best.
+
+At any rate, how the amiable Princess Hilda was to blame for all
+these deformities it would be hard to say; and she little dreamed of
+the malice in her cousin's heart.
+
+But, while Hilda was looking out of the window, a noble knight passed
+that way; and so delighted was he with the rare sweetness of her face,
+that he forgot himself, and paused a moment to gaze at her. The
+princess blushed, and let fall the silken curtain; but Zora had seen
+the knight, and knew he was the royal Prince Reginald. She ground her
+teeth in rage; for she had determined that the prince should never see
+her beautiful cousin.
+
+"They shall not meet," said she to herself: "no, not if there are bad
+fairies enough to prevent it."
+
+But, when the princess looked up, Zora was smiling very sweetly. Who
+could have dreamed that she was thinking of nothing but how to ruin
+the peace of her gentle cousin?
+
+Zora could hardly wait for nightfall, so eager was she to do her
+wicked work. When it was dark, and all was quiet, she stole out of the
+castle, wearing a black mantle which hid her face.
+
+"Now," thought she, "no one can recognize me, and I will seek the
+fairy Gerula."
+
+You must know that Gerula was one of the most wicked and hideous
+sprites that ever existed. She dwelt in a cave far from the abodes of
+men. It was hidden by huge trees through which the wind never ceased
+howling. At evening owls hooted overhead, and many creeping things
+wound their length along the ground. The more toads and snakes she
+could see about her, the better was she pleased; for fairies, as well
+as mortals, are attracted by what is akin to themselves.
+
+She was descended from a race called kobolds or goblins; and she loved
+all the metals which lie under the earth as well as the living things
+which crawl up out of its bosom.
+
+So acute were her ears, that she heard Zora's steps from a great
+distance. She brushed back her elf-locks, and gave a low grunt like
+some wild beast. It pleased her that the Lady Zora should find need of
+her counsel; but, when Zora had reached the cave, the cunning fairy
+pretended to be sleeping, and started up in seeming surprise.
+
+"What brings a body here at this time of night?" said she.
+
+"I am Lady Zora. I have come, sweet fairy, to beg a favor. The
+Princess Hilda is hateful to me: work one of your charms on her, and
+let me see her face no more."
+
+The old fairy pricked up her ears and said to herself, "Ha! ha! I
+will have nice sport out o' this!" then said aloud, "Say, what harm
+has the princess done to my rosebud, my lily, my pride?"
+
+Zora's eyes flashed. "Prince Reginald has seen her; and to see her is
+to love her. My heart is set on wedding Prince Reginald. Take her out
+of his way!"
+
+Just then a broad gleam of moonlight fell on the treacherous maiden.
+It was strange how much she looked like the cruel fairy; and Gerula
+gazed on her with delight.
+
+"My beautiful viper!" said she, using the sweetest pet-name she could
+think of, "I will do your bidding. But first say what you will give me
+if I put Hildegarde out of your way."
+
+Then she chuckled, and rubbed her hands in great glee. Zora started
+back in alarm.
+
+"I did not know you sold your charms for gold; but I would give you
+half my fortune if need be, any thing, to be rid of Hilda."
+
+The fairy chuckled again. "Just the damsel for me," thought she.
+
+"I will give you a diamond necklace," said Zora: "it is worth a small
+kingdom, and was given me by my cousin Hilda. You can surely ask no
+more?"
+
+"Diamonds!" said the goblin, snapping her fingers. "What think you I
+care for them? Do I not tire of stooping to pick them up? for they are
+given me by my cousins, the gnomes, any day. No diamonds for me! Keep
+them and your gold. I ask but one thing, my dear."
+
+Here she spoke in low hissing tones, more terrible than her loudest
+croakings.
+
+"Promise me, if you do not marry Prince Reginald, you will let me
+change you into a charming green snake."
+
+"Alas!" cried Zora, turning pale, "who ever heard of such a cruel
+request?"
+
+"Cruel, am I?" said the goblin in delight. "Oh, I must seem cruel to
+one who is so gentle and lovely as Hilda!"
+
+"Alas," cried Zora, "I may fail to win Prince Reginald."
+
+"All the better," chuckled the fairy. "When you become a snake, you
+and I shall enjoy each other's society, I assure you."
+
+Zora shuddered.
+
+"But it's all one to me," added the goblin, beginning to yawn. "On the
+whole, I think you may as well go home."
+
+Zora wrung her hands, and groaned.
+
+"Yes," said the gnome: "go back to the castle. Ugh! I would sooner
+trust one of my winking owls to do a daring deed than you! Fie upon
+you! Creep back to your bed, and let Hilda marry the prince: a lovely
+pair they will make. Off with you, for I have to make up my sleep I
+have lost."
+
+But Zora was thinking.
+
+"I am silly indeed!" she said to herself. "Why do I fear that I shall
+not win the love of Prince Reginald? Only Hilda stands in my way."
+Then she said aloud,--
+
+"Lovely being! sweetest of all the race! Great as is my horror, I will
+consent to your will."
+
+Just then was heard a crackling in the dry leaves.
+
+"Only a snake," said the goblin. Zora trembled.
+
+"Will you promise me that Hilda will never trouble me again?"
+
+"I promise," said the goblin, with one of her merriest laughs, as
+loud and hoarse as the song of a frog.
+
+Just then a sigh was heard not far from the place where Zora stood.
+"There is some one here: we are watched," she whispered. But Gerula
+thought it the howling of the wind; for she was busily musing over the
+charm she was about to obtain of her cousins, the gnomes, and her eyes
+and ears were not as sharp as usual.
+
+She took from the ground her crooked staff.
+
+"Hush," said she; "if the sky were to fall on your head, you are not
+to speak; for now begins the charm."
+
+Then she drew a circle three times on the ground, with her staff, and
+said in low tones,--
+
+    "Hither, ye cousins, that come at my call:
+      The princess is young and fair;
+    Mix me a charm that shall bring her to woe
+      Spin me your vilest snare."
+
+A mist arose, in which Zora could see dim figures, one after another.
+Zora held her breath. Gerula muttered again in low tones,--
+
+    "Hilda is gentle, and dreams of no guile;
+      The little gnomes sit and weep;
+    'Make her,--if _must_ be,--a snowy wee lamb,
+      In the fold with her father's sheep.'"
+
+Zora clapped her hands in delight. But just then, a faint sound was
+heard, as of some one talking between the teeth. Then Zora spoke, and
+the charm was broken. She did not intend to speak; but asked, "What
+noise was that?" before she thought.
+
+"You have broken the charm," said the fairy. "The soft-hearted gnomes
+are unwilling to punish Hilda; but I hoped, by my craft, I could force
+them to keep her a lamb forever; or, at most, to let her grow to a
+sheep, and die by the knife.
+
+"I will now weave a new charm; but I fear me they will repent; and
+Hilda will not be got out of the way, after all. Not a word more, I
+warn you."
+
+So saying, the goblin made another circle three times, on the ground,
+and again muttered,--
+
+    "How long is fair Hilda a snowy wee lamb?
+      The little gnomes cry, 'We fear
+    Till comes a brave lion so tender and true,
+      She lives by his side a year.'"
+
+Zora clapped her hands again. "That is well," said she, "for never was
+a lion seen who could let a little helpless lamb pass his way without
+tearing it in pieces."
+
+"True," said the gnome, well pleased, "it has worked well. Hilda will
+never trouble you again: so creep home softly, and go to your rest:
+dream of bats and creeping snakes; and to-morrow, at sunrise, ask
+your cousin to walk with you in the park. Now adieu!"
+
+"Adieu, sweetest and best of fairies!" said Zora, drawing her silken
+mantle closely about her face. As she left the hideous cave, snakes
+hissed after her, and a bat flew in her face; but she had sold herself
+to evil, and walked on without fear of the creatures she so strongly
+resembled.
+
+Next morning, at the first peep of the sun, she cried, "Awake, dearest
+Hilda, joy of my life, and walk with me in the park. I have lost my
+diamond necklace; and last night I dreamed it was lying in the grass."
+
+So Princess Hildegarde opened her eyes, and hastened to follow her
+cousin; for her heart was quickly moved to any act of kindness.
+
+"What a fine flock of sheep!" cried Hilda, as they were walking in
+the park. "Such innocent"----
+
+She would have said more, but the words on her tongue were suddenly
+changed to tender bleatings; and even as Zora stood looking at her,
+she crouched down on all fours, dwindled in size, was enveloped in
+white fleece, and became a dumb lamb.
+
+Overwhelmed with horror and surprise, she raised her pleading, tearful
+eyes to the face of her cousin. But Zora gave a mocking laugh, and
+said, pointing her finger at her,--
+
+"Who now is the heir of the throne? Will they set the royal crown on a
+sheep's head, think you? Bravo, sweet creature! You may stand now
+between me and Prince Reginald as much as you please. It's all my
+work. I tell you once for all, I hate you, Hildegarde."
+
+Was this Zora's return for her cousin's love? The princess would fain
+have expressed her grief and amazement.
+
+"Pray don't try to talk, my bonny wee thing! It is not one of your
+gifts, at present. Your voice has ceased to be musical. I can sing now
+as well as you. Go to nibbling grass, deary, and a long life to you!"
+
+Then the treacherous Zora turned on her heel, and left her poor cousin
+to her mute despair.
+
+A search was made far and wide for the missing princess. Forests were
+hunted, rivers were dragged; but without avail. Deep gloom fell on the
+people, and the queen nearly died of sorrow. They all believed Hilda
+dead, all but Zora, who knew too well her cruel fate.
+
+Then Zora was treated like the king's daughter. Wherever she went,
+there were servants to follow her; yet none loved her, and behind her
+back they made wry faces, and said she looked like one who was
+tormented by evil fairies.
+
+But, alas for Zora, nothing more was seen of Prince Reginald. She
+watched the windows day after day, hoping to see him ride by on his
+coal-black steed; but he never came. Then she grew crosser than ever,
+and the frown on her brow ploughed deeper still. She dreamed every
+night of horrible goblins and slender green snakes.
+
+All the while, poor Hildegarde roamed about the park. The other lambs
+were content to nip the sweet grass, and frisk in the sun; but the
+princess remembered something better, for her soul did not sleep.
+
+The king himself, in his walks, was struck with the beauty of the
+lamb; its fleece was far softer, finer, and whiter than was common.
+He said to his chief shepherd, "Watch well yonder snow-white lamb, and
+give it particular care."
+
+For there was something in its soft dark eyes, as they were raised to
+his face, which stirred the king's heart, though he knew not why.
+
+One day the city was thrown into a great tumult. A lion had been seen
+in the thicket which bordered the park. The huntsmen, hearing of it,
+stole out privately to waylay him in a snare. He was caught alive by
+the king's favorite huntsman. It was agreed that such a fine lion had
+never been seen before; and the king ordered a strong iron cage for
+the beast, and made his favorite huntsman his keeper.
+
+Now the cage was in the midst of the park; and such was the terror of
+the sheep and deer, that none of them went near it.
+
+"I will go," thought poor Hildegarde; "let the lion tear me in
+pieces. Sooner would I perish, than live on, a poor wee lamb all my
+days."
+
+So she went up to the cage, though with a faint heart; but the lion
+put his paw out of the bars, and stroked her face, as if he would bid
+her welcome. The keeper reported the fact with great surprise.
+
+It may be that the beautiful brown eyes of the lamb tamed the fierce
+spirit of the lion; for they were human eyes, full of Hildegarde's own
+soul. Be that as it may, the lamb went every day to the cage, till the
+lion learned to watch for her, and gave a low growl of joy when he saw
+her coming. At last the keeper ventured to drop her carefully into the
+cage. The lion was beside himself with joy; and, after that, the lamb
+was placed in the cage every morning, and only taken out at night.
+
+Then the king invited all the noblemen into his park, to see the
+strange sight of a lion and a lamb living together in peace. And all
+the while Hildegarde loved her shaggy companion, and asked herself
+every day how it could be that a lion should have such speaking eyes
+and such a tender heart. But she almost believed that he was a human
+being, shut up, like herself, in a cruel disguise.
+
+At last, when a whole year had gone by, the time came for Hilda to be
+disenchanted; for the good little gnomes had declared that if she
+could live for a twelvemonth in peace with a lion, the charm would
+then be at an end.
+
+Hilda did not know this; but awoke at sunrise, and, going to drink,
+saw the image of her old self in the fountain; and faint voices
+repeated in chorus these lines:--
+
+    "Thrice welcome, sweet Hilda! the little gnomes say
+      At sunrise their charms shall end;
+    So go to the lion, and open the cage;
+      The prince is your own true friend."
+
+This was so sudden and unexpected that the happy Hilda could hardly
+believe her senses. She gazed at her jewelled fingers; she touched her
+velvet robe. "It is Hildegarde," said she dreamily; "where has she
+stayed so long?"
+
+She went to the cage; and, finding the key hanging on the outside,
+would fain have freed the poor lion, but thought of the terror it
+would cause the sheep and deer, and dared not do it.
+
+She put her soft white arms within the bars, saying,--
+
+"You have been a true friend to the little white lamb. She has found
+her tongue again, and can say so. Kind old lion, gentle prisoner,
+Hildegarde will not forget you."
+
+The noble beast looked at the disenchanted princess, and the next
+instant was changed to his true form; and, in place of a tawny lion,
+it was the brave Prince Reginald. Hilda blushed with joyful surprise,
+and would have taken down the key to unlock the cage, but the prince
+said,--
+
+"Loveliest Hildegarde, will you be my bride? Speak before you unlock
+the cage; for, if you say nay, Reginald must again become a dumb
+beast, and, as he has been for a year, so will he be for the rest of
+his days."
+
+Hildegarde cast down her eyes, and answered, "If so be the lion and
+the lamb could live side by side for a year, may not Reginald and
+Hilda dwell together in peace?"
+
+"Then," said the joyful Prince Reginald, "I pray thee unlock the
+cage."
+
+Now, as they walked together in the park, the prince told Hildegarde
+that he had loved her for a twelvemonth and a day.
+
+He described Zora's visit to the cruel goblin. He said that he himself
+had overheard the two talking together, had ground his teeth, and
+sighed. Then the gnomes, seeing his grief, had come asking him if he
+would be changed for a year, and maybe for life, into a lion; and for
+Hildegarde's sake he had gladly consented.
+
+Hearing all these things, the grateful princess wept, and said,--
+
+"Now I know that Prince Reginald is my own true friend."
+
+The prince led Hilda to the palace, and presented her to the king and
+queen. Great was the wonder, and loud the rejoicing throughout the
+land.
+
+The treacherous Zora was seen no more, but was changed into a slender
+green snake; and the king said she deserved her fate; "for, mark
+you," cried he, "there is no crime worse than to play false to those
+whom we pretend to love."
+
+But Prince Reginald and Hildegarde were married, and lived in peace
+all the rest of their lives.
+
+
+
+
+GOLDILOCKS.
+
+
+    "A king lived long ago,
+    In the morning of the world,"
+
+who had two children, Despard and Goldilocks. They were twin brother
+and sister, but no more alike than a queen-lily and a nightshade, a
+raven and a dove.
+
+Goldilocks was a bright young damsel, with hair like fine threads of
+gold, and a face so radiant that people questioned if the blood in her
+veins might not be liquid sunshine. Her eyes were as soft as violets;
+and her laugh was like the music of a spring robin.
+
+Despard, on the other hand, was as melancholy as an owl. His raven
+hair cast gloomy shadows, and his mournful eyes pierced you with a
+sudden sorrow. He was too low-spirited to chase butterflies, weave
+daisy-chains, and dance with Goldilocks among the flowers. He liked
+better to play at a mimic funeral, and deck himself as chief mourner,
+in a friar's robe with sable plumes. He could never understand why
+laughing Goldilocks should object to making believe die, and be buried
+in the large jewel-coffer, which stood for a tomb.
+
+He always said that, if he lived to be a man, he should grow all the
+more wretched, and creep over the earth like a great black cloud. When
+Despard spoke so hopelessly, Goldilocks paused in her song or her
+play, and stealthily brushed a rare tear from her eye. She was afraid
+her brother's words might prove true.
+
+These children lived in what is called the Golden Age, when the
+rivers flowed with milk and wine, and yellow honey dripped from
+oak-trees. Their childhood would probably have lasted forever; but the
+Silver Age came on, and every thing was changed. Then, it was
+sometimes too warm, and sometimes too cold. People began to live in
+caves, and weave houses of twigs. The king, their father, died, and
+went, so it was said, to the "Isles of the Blessed."
+
+The children were shipwrecked upon a foreign shore, all because of a
+sudden swell of the ocean. Here they were desolate and homesick. The
+strange people among whom they had fallen did not know they were the
+children of a king. No one was left to care for them but their old
+nurse, named Sibyl.
+
+This aged woman was growing lame, and her hair was gray; yet she loved
+the twins, and would spin all the day long, to buy black bread for
+them, and now and then a little choice fruit.
+
+"Alas," she sighed, "alas, for the Golden Age, when the forests had
+never been robbed, when oxen were not called to draw the plough, and
+the beautiful earth laughed, and tossed up fruit and flowers without
+waiting to be asked!"
+
+The frocks that Sibyl made for Goldilocks were coarse; but on fair
+spring days she took from the chest a delicate, rosy robe, embroidered
+with gold, and smiled to see how it adorned the child.
+
+But as for Despard, she had no hope that he would ever look well in
+any thing. She would part Goldilocks' wonderful hair, and say,--
+
+"Old Sibyl knows who is her love; she knows who would be glad to give
+her pomegranates and grapes, when she is too old to spin, and too weak
+to sit up."
+
+Little Goldilocks would laughingly reply,--
+
+"And I know, too: when I am a woman I shall weave a net of my hair,
+and fish up all the gold that has sunk to the beds of the rivers. Then
+I know who will have a set of hard gold teeth, and a silver
+rocking-chair."
+
+"Thou art lovely enough to be a goddess, little Goldilocks. And what
+wilt thou do with the rest of the gold?"
+
+"Oh, Despard shall have all he can carry; for Despard is good, let
+people say what they may. And I will have a crown made for him, with
+diamonds set in it as plenty as plums in a pudding."
+
+"Listen, my children," said the old Sibyl, sadly: "there will be no
+one to give me grapes and pomegranates when I am faint and weak. I can
+read by the stars that you are soon to go on a pilgrimage, and leave
+your old nurse behind. You may well weep, my good little boy: there is
+to be no rest for your feet till you have travelled over the whole
+world, from north to south."
+
+Despard groaned aloud; but Goldilocks clapped her hands and laughed.
+"Oh, let us start to-night," she cried.
+
+"When the sun-god has made twelve journeys in his winged boat," sighed
+Sibyl, "and when the young moon has arisen out of the ocean, then you
+may go."
+
+And, at the appointed time, the faithful nurse, with many tears,
+prepared her foster-children for their long journey. She took from a
+worm-eaten coffer some family heirlooms, which had been lying since
+the days of the Golden Age, enveloped in rose-leaves and gold paper.
+
+She placed in the hand of Despard a dagger with a jewelled hilt, a
+quiver of poisoned arrows, and a glittering sword, with a blade
+sharper than a serpent's tooth.
+
+But to Goldilocks she gave a flask of smooth, fragrant oil, a vase of
+crystal-bright water, and a fan made of the feathers of the beautiful
+bird of Paradise.
+
+Kissing the little pilgrims, she said,--
+
+"These gifts have been saved for you these many years: use them as an
+inward voice shall whisper you: I give you my blessing. The gods
+attend you! Farewell."
+
+The children at first walked on sorrowfully; but soon the gay spirits
+of Goldilocks rebounded, and she waltzed hither and thither, like a
+morsel of thistle-down.
+
+"See, brother," said she, "we almost fly! What a glorious thing it is
+to go on a pilgrimage! I am glad the beautiful Silver Age has come,
+and Jupiter has given us leave to take a peep at the world!"
+
+"All very well for you to say," moaned Despard; "you flit about as if
+you had wings on your feet; while, as for me, it is true I move with
+equal speed, but so painfully that I wonder my footprints are not
+stained with blood."
+
+Soon the children observed, not far off, a party of youths rowing on
+the bosom of a lake. They sat in a rocking, unsteady little bark, but
+were in gay spirits, blowing bubbles, watching idle clouds, and
+throwing up empty shouts to be caught up and echoed by the hills.
+
+"I wish we had not seen these happy people," sighed Despard; "for, if
+you can believe me, sister, I really feel as if I must pelt them with
+my arrows."
+
+So saying, little Despard began to fire his poisonous darts at random.
+
+"Why, brother," cried Goldilocks, in alarm, "are you possessed by the
+furies? Take care how you aim, or you will surely do mischief."
+
+Even as she spoke, several of the gay youths dropped to the bottom of
+the boat, apparently wounded. Their companions pushed for the shore;
+and Goldilocks almost flew, to pour into the red wounds her brother
+had made the smooth healing oil from her flask.
+
+"Poor dears," said she, pitying their pain, "I have done my best; and,
+see! these ugly gashes are almost healed. I cannot promise you,
+though, that they will not leave scars."
+
+The youths thanked the sweet girl, and assured her it was almost a
+pleasure to be wounded, if one might be nursed by such gentle hands as
+hers. But as for Despard, it was hardly strange that they should look
+upon the poor boy as a wicked little highwayman; or, at best, a saucy,
+careless fellow.
+
+Some of the older youths, however, patted him on the shoulder, and
+said, "For your sweet sister's sake we can even endure your pranks."
+
+"Do not despise me," said the boy, sadly; "for as I am moved, so must
+I do. Not for the whole world would I fire a poisonous arrow, if the
+mighty Jove did not compel me."
+
+As they walked on, Despard, against his will, flung into the air a
+quantity of winged torments, which he found stowed away in his wallet,
+such as gnats, wasps, and flies.
+
+"There, now," said sweet Goldilocks, ready to weep, "why could you not
+look before you, and see those pretty children playing yonder in that
+fragrant meadow?"
+
+"I saw them," said Despard; "but what good did that do?"
+
+"O brother, I wish the Golden Age would come again, and then you
+would cease scattering mischief and trouble."
+
+The little ones, suddenly stopped in their play by the army of
+insects, ran hither and thither over the meadow, screaming with pain.
+But Goldilocks appeared in the midst of them, with her shining hair,
+violet eyes, and laugh like the music of a spring robin.
+
+"Come to me," said she; "let me kiss away the stings."
+
+In a very short space the children were soothed, and had forgotten
+their trouble. Then they threw their little arms about Goldilocks'
+neck, and begged her to stay and play with them.
+
+"Sweet children, it is my mission,--so the stars say,--to travel all
+over this world, from north to south. But, for all that, I will frolic
+with you till the sun sets."
+
+"Will the sad boy come too?" asked the children.
+
+Goldilocks shook her bright curls. "He is planting a garden," said
+she; "no need to ask him; he hears nothing while he is at play, and
+his games are as solemn as midnight."
+
+The children made believe that the beautiful Goldilocks, in her
+rose-colored dress, with her beaming hair and flying feet, was a great
+butterfly, which they were trying to catch. Now here, now there, the
+glowing butterfly flitted from flower to flower, leading her followers
+a merry chase. Every child thought to seize and hold her, for a kiss.
+She laughed; and the breezes danced with her hair, like--
+
+    "Zephyr with Aurora playing,
+    As he met her once a-Maying."
+
+But before any one had kissed or even touched her, she had
+disappeared, leaving the children gazing into the air, and seeking
+their late companion with tearful eyes.
+
+Goldilocks had only gone back to Despard, who was still planting
+flower-seeds.
+
+"What a miserable game," said Goldilocks; "it is worse than playing
+funeral! Who thought you could make flowers grow? Our old nurse said
+it was only Demeter, the goddess, who could do that. Here, now, you
+have called up a bristling crop of thistles and brambles? On my word,
+Despard, it is a pity!"
+
+"Well, well, Goldilocks, see what you can make of them. I am doomed to
+work, though I don't wish it; and my work is always disagreeable,
+though I can't tell why!"
+
+Goldilocks knelt, and blew on the prickly plants with her sweet
+breath. By the nodding of the next breeze, they were changed to roses,
+violets, and hare-bells.
+
+"It is pleasant to see any thing smile, even a flower," said
+Goldilocks, laughing as she spoke.
+
+"I think," replied Despard, "that this is a strange pilgrimage. I
+believe our very thoughts are alive. I wish I could stop thinking."
+
+By and by they came to a rude house,--as fine a one, though, as people
+in the Silver Age had yet learned how to build. Despard paused, and
+knocked gently. "Why linger here?" whispered his sister.
+
+"I know not," sighed the boy, "but so must I do."
+
+"How now, little ones? you startled me so!" cried a woman, opening the
+door by the width of a crack.
+
+"Let us come in," said Despard, sorrowfully; "we are two little
+wanderers; and our hairs are wet with night-dews."
+
+"Come in, then, little ones, and welcome; but never, at any one's
+door, knock so loud again," added the woman, pressing her hand against
+her heart.
+
+"I only tapped with the ends of my fingers," said the boy.
+
+"Ah," said the woman, "it was louder to me than thunder." Then, after
+she had set before them a supper of bread and milk, she rocked her
+baby, and sang to it a sweet cradle-song about mother Juno and high
+Olympus.
+
+The children lay down on beds of rushes; and Goldilocks, soothed by
+the lullaby, fell asleep; but soon awoke, and saw her brother leaning,
+on tiptoe, over the osier basket. The baby's face looked, in the
+moonlight, white and pinched; and its sick hands were pressed together
+like two withered rose-leaves.
+
+"Let me kiss him," whispered Goldilocks smiling. But bitter tears
+rolled down Despard's cheeks. Drawing his little sword from its
+sheath, he pricked the baby's heart till one red drop, the life-drop,
+stained the steel. The sick baby ceased to breathe.
+
+"O Despard, what have you done?" cried Goldilocks, seizing his arm.
+
+"I know not," said the boy; "but as my heart moves me, so must I do."
+
+Hearing voices, the mother awoke, and, as her habit was, turned at
+once to the cradle. The baby lay there beautiful and still; the
+pinched look gone, and its furrowed brow smoothed into a baby's smile.
+The mother wept bitterly.
+
+"Ah, little stranger," said she, turning to Despard, "I knew you when
+I let you in. Why did I open the door for you?"
+
+"Poor mother," said the boy sorrowfully, "if you had not opened the
+door, I must have come in by the window."
+
+But Goldilocks threw her soft arms about the woman's neck, and
+comforted her till it was morning, and the "gilded car of day" had
+risen from the ocean. The tears on her cheeks she dried with her fan,
+made of magical feathers.
+
+When the children set out again on their journey, the woman gave
+Goldilocks a loving kiss, and then embraced Despard, saying,--
+
+"For the sake of your sweet sister, I love even you."
+
+"Poor little brother," said Goldilocks when they had gone farther on
+their journey, "you are as good as I; but how is it? you make people
+weep, while I must go with you to dry the tears you call forth."
+
+"I am a black cloud," groaned Despard, "you a sunbeam."
+
+"But I like to have a cloud to shine on," said loving little
+Goldilocks.
+
+Footsore and weary, the little pilgrims travelled on; and, when they
+had gone from north to south, and back again, the Sibyl met them with
+tender kisses; and, when they were refreshed, bade them go forth
+again.
+
+"For," said she, "this world is always new, my dears. The people who
+are born to-day were not here yesterday; and every mortal must see the
+faces of my foster-children."
+
+It was now the Brazen Age, and Despard and Goldilocks had grown to be
+a youth and maiden; but still they travelled on. The Iron Age came;
+and Despard's raven hair was frosted; but Goldilocks' curls never
+faded. Let her live as long as live she may, she can never grow old.
+
+Their pilgrimage is not over yet; nor will it be while the earth
+revolves about the sun. The brother and sister come to every house;
+they knock at every door.
+
+To all the children who open their eyes upon the light, come Despard
+and Goldilocks, the bitter and the sweet of life, the twin angels of
+Happiness and Sorrow.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+Archaic and variable spelling is preserved as printed. Punctuation
+errors have been repaired. Hyphenation has been made consistent.
+Typographic errors (omitted letters) have been repaired.
+
+On page 61, seen has been amended to then--"One sees, now and then,
+stupid human beings, ..."
+
+On page 158, a reference to Hilda has been amended to Zora--"He
+described Zora's visit to the cruel goblin."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Fairy Book, by Sophie May
+
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diff --git a/27321-8.zip b/27321-8.zip
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@@ -0,0 +1,4861 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Fairy Book, by Sophie May.
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
+<!--
+    p {  margin-top: .75em;
+         text-align: justify;
+         margin-bottom: .75em;
+         }
+    h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {
+         text-align: center; /* all headings centered */
+         clear: both;
+         }
+    hr { width: 33%;
+	 margin-top: 2em;
+	 margin-bottom: 2em;
+         margin-left: auto;
+         margin-right: auto;
+         clear: both;
+       }
+
+    table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;}
+
+    body{margin-left: 10%;
+         margin-right: 10%;
+        }
+
+    a   {text-decoration: none;}
+
+    img {border: none;}
+
+    em  {font-style: italic;}
+
+    .pagenum  { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */
+            /*  visibility: hidden;  */
+                position: absolute;
+                left: 92%;
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+                font-size: smaller;
+                text-align: right;
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+
+    .bbox     {border: solid 2px; padding: 1em;}
+
+    .center   {text-align: center;}
+    .smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
+
+    .caption  {font-weight: bold; text-align: center; padding-bottom: 2em;}
+
+    .figcenter   {margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em;}
+
+    .poem             {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;}
+    .poem br          {display: none;}
+    .poem .stanza     {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;}
+    .poem span.i0     {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i1     {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+
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+  </head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Fairy Book, by Sophie May
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Fairy Book
+
+Author: Sophie May
+
+Release Date: November 24, 2008 [EBook #27321]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FAIRY BOOK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Sam W. and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+<p class="center">LITTLE PRUDY SERIES.</p>
+
+
+<h1 class="padtop">FAIRY BOOK.</h1>
+
+<p class="center padtop">BY</p>
+
+<h2 class="padbase">SOPHIE MAY.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="center padtop padbase">BOSTON:<br />
+LEE AND SHEPARD,<br />
+(<span class="smcap">Successors to Phillips, Sampson, &amp; Co.</span>)<br />
+1866.</p>
+
+
+
+<p class="center padtop smlfont">Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by<br />
+LEE &amp; SHEPARD,<br />
+In the Clerk&rsquo;s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 408px;">
+<img src="images/fb01.jpg" width="408" height="600"
+alt="Christobal carries Jasper down the ladder" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">CRISTOBAL. Page <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="center"><small>THIS</small><br />
+<br />
+<big>BOOK OF FAIRY TALES</big><br />
+<br />
+<small>IS DEDICATED</small><br />
+<br />
+<big>TO LITTLE BESSIE.</big></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="center lrgfont">LITTLE PRUDY SERIES.</p>
+
+<p class="center">BY SOPHIE MAY.</p>
+
+
+<p class="center padtop">I.<br />
+LITTLE PRUDY.</p>
+
+<p class="center">II.<br />
+LITTLE PRUDY&rsquo;S SISTER SUSY.</p>
+
+<p class="center">III.<br />
+LITTLE PRUDY&rsquo;S CAPTAIN HORACE.</p>
+
+<p class="center">IV.<br />
+LITTLE PRUDY&rsquo;S COUSIN GRACIE.</p>
+
+<p class="center">V.<br />
+LITTLE PRUDY&rsquo;S STORY BOOK.</p>
+
+<p class="center">VI.<br />
+LITTLE PRUDY&rsquo;S DOTTY DIMPLE.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="60%" summary="Table of contents">
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><small>PAGE</small></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">INTRODUCTION</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">CRISTOBAL</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">WILD ROBIN</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">THE VESPER STAR</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">THE WATER-KELPIE</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">THE LOST SYLPHID</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">THE CASTLE OF GEMS</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">THE ELF OF LIGHT</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">THE PRINCESS HILDA</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">GOLDILOCKS</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg&nbsp;9]</a></span></p>
+
+<h1 class="padtop">FAIRY BOOK.</h1>
+
+
+
+<h2 class="padtop">INTRODUCTION.</h2>
+
+
+<p>While Prudy was in Indiana visiting the
+Cliffords, and in the midst of her trials with
+mosquitoes, she said one day,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t cry, Aunt &rsquo;Ria, only my
+heart&rsquo;s breaking. The very next person
+that ever dies, I wish they&rsquo;d ask God to
+please stop sending these awful skeeters. I
+can&rsquo;t bear &rsquo;em any longer, now, certainly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was a look of utter despair on
+Prudy&rsquo;s disfigured face. Bitter tears were
+trickling from the two white puff-balls which
+had been her eyes; her forehead and cheeks
+were of a flaming pink, broken into little
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg&nbsp;10]</a></span>
+snow-drifts full of stings: she looked as if
+she had just been rescued from an angry beehive.
+Altogether, her appearance was exceedingly
+droll; yet Grace would not allow
+herself to smile at her afflicted little cousin.
+&ldquo;Strange,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;what makes our mosquitoes
+so impolite to strangers! It&rsquo;s a
+downright shame, isn&rsquo;t it, ma, to have little
+Prudy so imposed upon? If I could only
+amuse her, and make her forget it!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, mamma,&rdquo; Grace broke forth again suddenly,
+&ldquo;I have an idea, a very brilliant idea!
+Please listen, and pay particular attention;
+for I shall speak <em>in a figure</em>, as Robin says.
+There&rsquo;s a certain small individual who is not
+to understand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t risk that style of talking,&rdquo; said
+Mrs. Clifford, smiling; &ldquo;or, if you do, your
+figures of speech must be <em>very</em> obscure, remember.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg&nbsp;11]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Well, ma,&rdquo; continued Grace with a significant
+glance at Prudy, &ldquo;what I was going
+to say is this: We wish to treat certain
+young relatives of ours very kindly; don&rsquo;t we,
+now?&mdash;certain afflicted and abused young
+relatives, you know.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, I&rsquo;ve thought of an entertainment.
+Ahem! Yesterday I entered a certain Englishman&rsquo;s
+house,&rdquo;&mdash;here Grace pointed
+through the window towards Mr. Sherwood&rsquo;s
+cottage, lest her mother should, by chance,
+lose her meaning,&mdash;&ldquo;I entered a certain
+Englishman&rsquo;s house just as the family were
+sitting down to the table,&mdash;<em>festal board</em>, I
+mean.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They were talking about mistle-toe
+boughs, and all sorts of old-country customs;
+and then they said what a funny time they
+had one Christmas, with the youngest, about
+the <em>mizzle</em>, as he called it: do you remember,
+ma? do you understand?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg&nbsp;12]</a></span>
+&ldquo;You mean little Harvey? Oh, yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pray do be careful, ma! Then Mr. Sherwood
+said to his&mdash;I mean, the <em>hat</em> said to
+the <em>bonnet</em>, that there were some wonderful&mdash;ahem&mdash;legends,
+about genii and sprites
+and&mdash;and so forth; not printed, but <em>written</em>,
+which the boy liked to hear when he was
+&lsquo;overgetting&rsquo; the measles. A certain lady,
+not three inches from your chair, ma, was the
+one who wrote them; and now&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Prudy had turned about, and the only remnants
+of her face which looked at all natural&mdash;that
+is, the irises and pupils of her swollen
+eyes&mdash;were shining with curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There, now, what is it, Gracie? what is
+it you don&rsquo;t want me to hear?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Grace laughed. &ldquo;Oh, nothing much, dear:
+never mind.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You oughtn&rsquo;t to say &lsquo;Never mind,&rsquo;&rdquo; pursued
+Prudy: &ldquo;my mother tells me <em>always</em> to
+mind.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg&nbsp;13]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I only mean it isn&rsquo;t any matter, Prudy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! do you? Then don&rsquo;t you care for
+my skeeter-bites? You always say, &lsquo;Never
+mind!&rsquo; I didn&rsquo;t know it wasn&rsquo;t <em>any matter</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, ma,&rdquo; Grace went on, &ldquo;I want to ask
+you where are those I-don&rsquo;t-know-what-to-call-&rsquo;ems?
+And may I copy them, Cassy and
+I, into a book, for a certain afflicted relative?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, yes, on gold-edged paper!&rdquo; cried
+Prudy, springing up from the sofa; &ldquo;oh, do,
+do; I&rsquo;ll love you dearly if you will! Fairy
+stories are just as nice! What little Harvey
+Sherwood likes, <em>I</em> like, and I&rsquo;ve had the measles;
+<em>but</em> I shouldn&rsquo;t think his father and
+mother&rsquo;d wear their hat and bonnet to the
+dinner-table!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Deary me!&rdquo; laughed Grace; &ldquo;how happened
+that little thing to mistrust what I
+meant?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg&nbsp;14]</a></span>
+&ldquo;It would be strange if a child of her age,
+of ordinary abilities, should <em>not</em> understand,&rdquo;
+remarked Mrs. Clifford, somewhat amused.
+&ldquo;Next time you wish to ask me any thing
+confidentially, I advise you to choose a better
+opportunity.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When may she, Aunt &rsquo;Ria?&rdquo; cried Prudy,
+entirely forgetting her troubles; &ldquo;when
+may she write it, Aunt &rsquo;Ria, she and Cassy?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A pretty piece of folly it would be,
+wouldn&rsquo;t it, dear, when you can&rsquo;t read a word
+of writing?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But Susy can a little, auntie; and mother
+can a great deal: and I&rsquo;ll never tease &rsquo;em,
+only nights when I go to bed, and days when
+I don&rsquo;t feel well. Please, Aunt &rsquo;Ria.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, ma, I know you can&rsquo;t refuse,&rdquo; said
+Grace.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Clifford hesitated. &ldquo;The stories are
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg&nbsp;15]</a></span>
+yellow with age, Grace; they were written
+in my girlhood: and they are rather torn and
+disarranged, if I remember. Besides, my
+child, my flowing hand is difficult to read.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, mamma, I think you write beautifully!
+splendidly!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Another objection,&rdquo; continued Mrs. Clifford:
+&ldquo;they are rather too old for Prudy, I
+should judge.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I keep a-growing, Aunt &rsquo;Ria! Don&rsquo;t
+you s&rsquo;pose I know what fairy stories mean?
+They don&rsquo;t mean any thing! You didn&rsquo;t feel
+afraid I&rsquo;d believe &rsquo;em, did you? I wouldn&rsquo;t
+believe &rsquo;em, I <em>promise</em> I wouldn&rsquo;t; just as
+true&rsquo;s I&rsquo;m walking on this floor!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed, I hope you would not, little
+Prudy; for I made them up as I went along.
+There are no fairies but those we have in our
+hearts. Our best thoughts are good fairies;
+and our worst thoughts are evil fairies.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg&nbsp;16]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes, auntie, I know! When we go
+bathing in the ocean, Susy says, &lsquo;Let&rsquo;s be all
+clean, so the spirit of the water can enter
+our hearts.&rsquo; And it does; but it goes in by
+our noses.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Clifford had tacitly given her consent
+to Grace&rsquo;s copying the stories. This task
+was performed accordingly, much to the disgust
+of Horace, who declared that of the
+whole number only the tale of &ldquo;Wild Robin&rdquo;
+was worth reading.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And &lsquo;Wild Robin,&rsquo;&rdquo; said Grace, instructively,
+&ldquo;is the only one that has a moral for
+you, Horace. When our soldiers are starving
+so, it is really dreadful to see how you
+dislike corned beef and despise vegetables!
+Such a dainty boy as you needs to be stolen
+a while by the fairies.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Gracie, I reckon you&rsquo;d run double-quick
+to pull me off the milk-white steed.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg&nbsp;17]</a></span>
+You couldn&rsquo;t get along without me two days.
+Look here! what story has a moral for you,
+miss? It&rsquo;s the &lsquo;Water-kelpie.&rsquo; You are like
+the man that married Moneta: you&rsquo;re always
+wanting money.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But it&rsquo;s for the soldiers, Horace,&rdquo; said
+Grace, with a smile of forbearance toward
+her brother. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m willing to give all my
+pocket-money; and I mean the other girls
+shall. If we&rsquo;re stingy to our country these
+days, we ought to be shot! &lsquo;Princess Hilda&rsquo;s&rsquo;
+the best story in the book. I wish Isa Harrington
+could read it! She wouldn&rsquo;t make
+any more mischief between Cassy and me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I like &lsquo;The Lost Sylphid&rsquo; the best,&rdquo; said
+Prudy; &ldquo;but <em>was</em> she a great butterfly, do
+you s&rsquo;pose? The stories are all just as nice;
+just like book stories. I shouldn&rsquo;t think anybody
+made &rsquo;em up. Aunt &rsquo;Ria can write as
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg&nbsp;18]</a></span>
+good as the big girls to the grammar-school.
+I promised not to believe a single word; and
+I sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t. I&rsquo;m glad she called it <em>my</em> Fairy
+Book.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg&nbsp;19]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CRISTOBAL.</h2>
+
+<h3>A CHRISTMAS LEGEND.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Long ago, in fair Burgundy, lived a lad
+named Cristobal. His large dark eyes lay
+under the fringe of his lids, full of shadows;
+eyes as lustrous as purple amethysts, and,
+alas! as sightless.</p>
+
+<p>He had not always been blind, as perhaps
+a wild and passionate lad, named Jasper,
+might have told you. On a certain Christmas
+Eve, a merry boy was little Cristobal,
+as he pattered along to church, trying with
+his wooden shoes to keep time to the dancing
+bells. In his hand he carried a Christmas
+candle of various colors. Never, he thought,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg&nbsp;20]</a></span>
+was a rainbow so exquisitely tinted as that
+candle. Carefully he watched it when it
+winked its sleepy eye, eagerly begging his
+mamma to snuff it awake again. How gayly
+the streets twinkled with midnight lanterns!
+And how mortifying to the stars to be outdone
+by such a grand illumination!</p>
+
+<p>A new painting had just been hung in the
+church,&mdash;the Holy Child, called by the people
+&ldquo;Little Jesus,&rdquo; with an aureola about his
+head. Cristobal looked at this picture with
+reverent delight; and, to his surprise, the
+Holy Child returned his gaze: wherever he
+went, the sweet, sorrowful eyes followed him.
+There was a wondrous charm in that pleading
+glance. Why was it so wistful? What
+had those deep eyes to say?</p>
+
+<p>The air was cloudy with the breath of
+frankincense and myrrh. Deep voices and
+the heavy organ sounded chants and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg&nbsp;21]</a></span>
+anthems. There were prayers to the coming
+Messiah, and the sprinkling of holy water;
+and, at last, the midnight mass was ended.</p>
+
+<p>Then, in tumult and great haste, the people
+went home for merry-makings. Cristobal,
+eager to see what the Yule-log might
+have in store for him, rushed out of the
+church with careless speed, stumbling over a
+boy who stood in his way,&mdash;the haughty, insolent
+Jasper. Jasper&rsquo;s beautiful Christmas-candle
+was cracked in twenty pieces by his
+fall.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll teach you better manners, young
+peasant!&rdquo; cried he, rushing upon Cristobal
+in a frenzy, and dealing fierce blows without
+mercy or reason.</p>
+
+<p>It was then that Cristobal&rsquo;s eyes went out
+like falling stars. Their lustre and beauty
+remained; but they were empty caskets,
+their vision gone.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg&nbsp;22]</a></span>
+Then followed terrible anguish; and all
+Cristobal&rsquo;s mother could do was to hold her
+boy in her arms, and soothe him by singing.
+At last the fever was spent; but the pain
+still throbbed on, and sometimes seemed to
+burn into Cristobal&rsquo;s brain. He cried out
+again and again, &ldquo;What right had that
+fierce Jasper to spring upon me so? I meant
+him no harm; and he knew it. Oh, I would
+like to see him chained in a den! He is like
+the wicked people who are turned into
+wolves at Christmas-tide. I would cry for
+joy if I could hear him groan with such pain
+as mine!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Poor Cristobal never hoped to see again.
+He carried in his mind pictures of cities and
+hamlets, of trees, flowers, and old familiar
+faces; but oftenest came Jasper&rsquo;s face, just
+as it had last glared on him with blood-thirsty
+eyes. It was a terrible countenance. Only
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg&nbsp;23]</a></span>
+one charm could dispel the horror,&mdash;the
+remembrance of the beautiful Child in the
+church. That picture blotted out every
+thing else. It was like the refrain in the
+Burgundy carols, &ldquo;Noel, Noel,&rdquo; which comes
+again and again, and never tires of coming.</p>
+
+<p>A whole year passed away. Cristobal&rsquo;s
+mother only prayed now that her boy might
+suffer less: she had ceased to pray for the
+healing of his blindness.</p>
+
+<p>Now it was Christmas-tide again. Ever
+since Advent, people had been clearing their
+throats, and singing carols. They roasted
+chestnuts, drank white wine, and chanted
+praises of the &ldquo;Little Jesus,&rdquo; who was soon
+to come, bringing peace on earth, good-will to
+men.</p>
+
+<p>In the streets, one heard bagpipes and minstrels;
+and, by the hearthstones, the music of
+the wandering piper. The children began to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg&nbsp;24]</a></span>
+talk again of the Yule-log, and to wonder
+what gifts Noel would bring to place under
+each end of it; for these little folks, who have
+no stocking-saint like our Santa Claus, believe
+in another quite as good, who rains
+down sugar-plums in the night.</p>
+
+<p>Everywhere there was a joyful bustle.
+Housewives were making ready their choicest
+dishes for the great Christmas-supper;
+fathers were slyly peeping into shop-windows,
+and children hoarding their sous and
+centimes for bonbons and comfits.</p>
+
+<p>Everybody was merry but Cristobal; or
+so thought the lad. He had no money to
+spend, and little but pain for his holiday-cheer.
+A patch here and there in his worn
+clothes was the best present his thrifty mother
+was able to make; always excepting the
+little variegated taper, which few were too
+poor to buy.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg&nbsp;25]</a></span>
+Christmas Eve came. Family friends
+dropped in. The Yule-log was set on the fire
+with shouts and singing. &ldquo;Oh that I could
+see these kind faces!&rdquo; moaned Cristobal.
+&ldquo;No doubt, Jasper&rsquo;s chestnuts are popping
+merrily; and his shoes will be full of presents.
+And here am I! My head aches, and
+my eye-balls burn.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He stole out of the room, and, throwing
+himself on a wicker bench, mused over his
+troubles in solitude. One might have supposed
+him sleeping; for how should one imagine
+that his beautiful eyes were of no
+manner of use, except when they were
+closed? When Cristobal said, &ldquo;Let me see,&rdquo;
+he dropped his eye-lids; and what he saw
+then, no artist can paint.</p>
+
+<p>On this night, a beautiful child appeared
+before him, as like the picture of the Little
+Jesus as if it had stepped out of its frame on
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg&nbsp;26]</a></span>
+the church-wall. Even the crimson and blue
+tints of the old painting were faithfully preserved;
+and every fold of the soft drapery
+was the very same.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I saw you, Cristobal, when you came before
+me with your colored candle, one year
+ago.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I knew it, I knew it!&rdquo; cried Cristobal,
+clasping his hands in awe. &ldquo;I saw your
+eyes follow me; and I never once turned but
+you were looking. They told me it was only
+a picture; but I said for that very reason
+your eyes were sorrowful,&mdash;you longed to
+be alive.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The child replied by a slight motion of the
+head; and the aureola trembled like sunlight
+on the water. The longer Cristobal gazed,
+the more courage he gathered. &ldquo;Lovely
+vision,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;if vision you may be,&mdash;I
+have said to myself, I would gladly walk to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg&nbsp;27]</a></span>
+Rome with peas in my shoes, if I could know
+what you wished to say to me that Christmas
+night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Only this, little brother: Are you ready
+for Christmas?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Alas! no: I never am. I have only two
+sous in the world.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor Cristobal! Yet, without a centime,
+one may be ready for Christmas.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I am so very unhappy!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You do indeed look sad, little brother:
+where is your pain?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In my eyes,&rdquo; moaned the boy, pouring out
+the words with a delightful sense of relief;
+for he was sure they dropped into a pitying
+heart. &ldquo;Beloved little Jesus, let me tell you
+that since I saw you last I have been wickedly
+injured. Now I have always a pain in
+my eyes: there are two flames behind them,
+which burn day and night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg&nbsp;28]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I grieve for you,&rdquo; said the Child with exquisite
+tenderness; &ldquo;yet, dear boy, for all
+that, you might be ready for Christmas: but
+is there not also a pain throbbing and burning
+in your <em>heart</em>?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, if you mean that, I am tossed up and
+down by vexation: I am full of hatred
+against that terrible Jasper. It was all about
+a miserable Christmas-candle he carried. I
+broke it by pushing him down. Tell me,
+was he right to fly at me like a wild beast?
+Ought he not to suffer even as I have suffered?
+Is it just, is it right, for the great
+man&rsquo;s son to put out a peasant boy&rsquo;s eyes,
+and be happy again?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Misguided Jasper!&rdquo; said the Child solemnly;
+&ldquo;let him answer for his own sin:
+judge not, little brother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Cristobal hid his face in his hands, and
+wept for shame.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg&nbsp;29]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Shall I give you ten golden words for a
+Christmas-gift? Will you hide them in your
+heart, and be happy?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will,&rdquo; answered Cristobal.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They are these,&rdquo; said the Child with a
+voice of wondrous sweetness: &ldquo;Pray for
+them which despitefully use you and persecute
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Cristobal repeated the words, a soft light
+stealing over his face. &ldquo;I will remember,&rdquo;
+he said, looking up to meet the pleading eyes
+of the Child: but, lo! the whole face had
+melted into the aureola; nothing was left but
+light. Yet Cristobal was filled with a new
+joy; and, as he opened his eyes, his dream&mdash;if
+dream it were&mdash;changed, becoming as
+sweet and solemn as a prayer. It seemed to
+him that the roof of the cottage glittered
+with stars, and was no longer a roof, but the
+boundless sky; and, afar off, like remembered
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg&nbsp;30]</a></span>
+music, a voice fell on his ear, &ldquo;For if
+ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly
+Father will also forgive you your trespasses.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Cristobal arose, and, although still blind,
+walked in light. &ldquo;It is the aureola which
+has stolen into my heart,&rdquo; thought Cristobal.
+&ldquo;The pain and hate are all gone. Now I am
+ready for Christmas. I wish I could help
+poor Jasper, who has such a weight of guilt
+to carry!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Next day, &ldquo;golden-sided&rdquo; Burgundy saw
+no happier boy than Cristobal. He walked
+in the procession that night, carrying a candle
+whose light he could not see; but what
+did it signify, since there was light in his
+soul?</p>
+
+<p>Hark! In the midst of the Christmas-chimes
+breaks the jangling of fire-bells. The
+count&rsquo;s house is on fire! The sparks pour
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg&nbsp;31]</a></span>
+out thicker and faster; tongues of flame leap
+to the sky; the bells clang hoarsely; the
+Christmas procession is broken into wild disorder;
+the wheels of the engine roll through
+the streets, unheard in the din.</p>
+
+<p>Cristobal rushed eagerly toward the flames,
+but was pulled away by the people.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We cannot drown the fire!&rdquo; they cried:
+&ldquo;the building must fall! Are the inmates
+all safe?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All, thank Heaven!&rdquo; cried the count.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No: <em>Jasper</em>! See, he waves his hand
+from the third story! Save him! save my
+boy!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jasper had set fire to a curtain with his fatal
+Christmas-candle. Now he raved and
+shouted in vain: no one would venture up
+the ladder.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O Little Jesus,&rdquo; whispered Cristobal,
+&ldquo;give light to my eyes, even as unto my
+soul! Let me save Jasper!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg&nbsp;32]</a></span>
+At once the iron band fell from Cristobal&rsquo;s
+vision. He saw, and, at the same moment,
+felt a supernatural strength. He tore away
+from the restraining arms of the people; he
+rushed up the ladder, shouting, &ldquo;In the
+name of the Little Jesus!&rdquo; He reached the
+window, heedless of his scorched arms.
+&ldquo;Jasper!&rdquo; he cried, seizing the half-conscious
+boy, &ldquo;be not afraid: I have the strength to
+carry you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And down the ladder he bore him, step by
+step, through the crackling flames.</p>
+
+<p>Jasper was revived; and the fainting Cristobal
+was borne through the streets in the
+arms of the populace.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wonder of wonders!&rdquo; they all shouted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was the Little Jesus,&rdquo; gasped Cristobal:
+&ldquo;he opened my eyes; he guided me
+up the ladder, and down again!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hallelujah!&rdquo; was now the cry. &ldquo;On the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg&nbsp;33]</a></span>
+birthday of our Lord, the blind receive their
+sight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is a triumph of faith,&rdquo; said the saints
+reverently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A miracle,&rdquo; murmured the nuns, making
+the sign of the cross.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a miracle,&rdquo; replied the wise doctors,
+after they had first consulted their books:
+&ldquo;it is only the electrifying of the optic
+nerve.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But hardly any two could agree, and what
+was so mysterious at the time is no clearer
+now.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear little Cristobal,&rdquo; sobbed the broken-hearted
+Jasper, &ldquo;how could you forgive
+such a wicked boy as I?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was very easy,&rdquo; replied Cristobal,
+&ldquo;when once the Little Jesus called me
+&lsquo;brother,&rsquo; and bade me pray for you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh that I could repay you for your
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg&nbsp;34]</a></span>
+wonderful deed of love,&rdquo; said Jasper, through
+his tears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do not thank me,&rdquo; whispered Cristobal,
+with a look of awe; &ldquo;thank the Little Jesus.
+And when he comes again next year, to ask
+what feelings we hold in our hearts, let us
+both be ready for Christmas.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg&nbsp;35]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>WILD ROBIN.</h2>
+
+<h3>A SCOTTISH FAIRY TALE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>In the green valley of the Yarrow, near
+the castle-keep of Norham, dwelt an honest,
+sonsy little family, whose only grief was an
+unhappy son, named Robin.</p>
+
+<p>Janet, with jimp form, bonnie eyes, and
+cherry cheeks, was the best of daughters;
+the boys, Sandie and Davie, were swift-footed,
+brave, kind, and obedient; but Robin, the
+youngest, had a stormy temper, and, when
+his will was crossed, he became as reckless
+as a reeling hurricane. Once, in a passion,
+he drove two of his father&rsquo;s &ldquo;kye,&rdquo; or cattle,
+down a steep hill to their death. He seemed
+not to care for home or kindred, and often
+pierced the tender heart of his mother with
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg&nbsp;36]</a></span>
+sharp words. When she came at night, and
+&ldquo;happed&rdquo; the bed-clothes carefully about his
+form, and then stooped to kiss his nut-brown
+cheeks, he turned away with a frown, muttering,
+&ldquo;Mither, let me be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was a sad case with Wild Robin, who
+seemed to have neither love nor conscience.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My heart is sair,&rdquo; sighed his mother,
+&ldquo;wi&rsquo; greeting over sich a son.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He hates our auld cottage and our muckle
+wark,&rdquo; said the poor father. &ldquo;Ah, weel! I
+could a&rsquo;maist wish the fairies had him for a
+season, to teach him better manners.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This the gudeman said heedlessly, little
+knowing there was any danger of Robin&rsquo;s
+being carried away to Elf-land. Whether the
+fairies were at that instant listening under
+the eaves, will never be known; but it
+chanced, one day, that Wild Robin was sent
+across the moors to fetch the kye.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg&nbsp;37]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll rin away,&rdquo; thought the boy: &ldquo;&rsquo;tis
+hard indeed if ilka day a great lad like me
+must mind the kye. I&rsquo;ll gae aff; and they&rsquo;ll
+think me dead.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So he gaed, and he gaed, over round swelling
+hills, over old battle-fields, past the roofless
+ruins of houses whose walls were
+crowned with tall climbing grasses, till he
+came to a crystal sheet of water, called St.
+Mary&rsquo;s Loch. Here he paused to take
+breath. The sky was dull and lowering; but
+at his feet were yellow flowers, which shone,
+on that gray day, like freaks of sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>He threw himself wearily upon the grass,
+not heeding that he had chosen his couch within
+a little mossy circle known as a &ldquo;fairy&rsquo;s
+ring.&rdquo; Wild Robin knew that the country
+people would say the fays had pressed that
+green circle with their light feet. He had
+heard all the Scottish lore of brownies, elves,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg&nbsp;38]</a></span>
+will-o&rsquo;-the-wisps, and the strange water-kelpies,
+who shriek with eldritch laughter. He
+had been told that the queen of the fairies
+had coveted him from his birth, and would
+have stolen him away, only that, just as she
+was about to seize him from the cradle, he
+had <em>sneezed</em>; and from that instant the fairy-spell
+was over, and she had no more control
+of him.</p>
+
+<p>Yet, in spite of all these stories, the boy
+was not afraid; and if he had been informed
+that any of the uncanny people were, even
+now, haunting his footsteps, he would not
+have believed it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I see,&rdquo; said Wild Robin, &ldquo;the sun is
+drawing his night-cap over his eyes, and
+dropping asleep. I believe I&rsquo;ll e&rsquo;en take a
+nap mysel&rsquo;, and see what comes o&rsquo; it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In two minutes he had forgotten St. Mary&rsquo;s
+Loch, the hills, the moors, the yellow flowers.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg&nbsp;39]</a></span>
+He heard, or fancied he heard, his sister
+Janet calling him home.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what have ye for supper?&rdquo; he muttered
+between his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Parritch and milk,&rdquo; answered the lassie
+gently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Parritch and milk! Whist! say nae mair!
+Lang, lang may ye wait for Wild Robin:
+he&rsquo;ll not gae back for oat-meal parritch!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Next a sad voice fell on his ear.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mither&rsquo;s; and she mourns me dead!&rdquo;
+thought he; but it was only the far-off village-bell,
+which sounded like the echo of
+music he had heard lang syne, but might
+never hear again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;D&rsquo;ye think I&rsquo;m not alive?&rdquo; tolled the
+bell. &ldquo;I sit all day in my little wooden temple,
+brooding over the sins of the parish.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A brazen lie!&rdquo; cried Robin.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, the truth, as I&rsquo;m a living soul!
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg&nbsp;40]</a></span>
+Wae worth ye, Robin Telfer: ye think yersel&rsquo;
+hardly used. Say, have your brithers
+softer beds than yours? Is your ain father
+served with larger potatoes or creamier buttermilk?
+Whose mither sae kind as yours,
+ungrateful chiel? Gae to Elf-land, Wild Robin;
+and dool and wae follow ye! dool and
+wae follow ye!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The round yellow sun had dropped behind
+the hills; the evening breezes began to blow;
+and now could be heard the faint trampling
+of small hoofs, and the tinkling of tiny bridle-bells:
+the fairies were trooping over the
+ground. First of all rode the queen.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Her mantle of the velvet fine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At ilka tress of her horse&rsquo;s mane<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hung fifty silver bells and nine.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>But Wild Robin&rsquo;s closed eyes saw nothing;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg&nbsp;41]</a></span>
+his sleep-sealed ears heard nothing. The
+queen of fairies dismounted, stole up to him,
+and laid her soft fingers on his cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here is a little man after my ain heart,&rdquo;
+said she: &ldquo;I like his knitted brow, and the
+downward curve of his lips. Knights, lift
+him gently, set him on a red-roan steed, and
+waft him away to Fairy-land.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Wild Robin was lifted as gently as a brown
+leaf borne by the wind; he rode as softly as
+if the red-roan steed had been saddled with
+satin, and shod with velvet. It even may be
+that the faint tinkling of the bridle-bells
+lulled him into a deeper slumber; for when
+he awoke it was morning in Fairy-land.</p>
+
+<p>Robin sprang from his mossy couch, and
+stared about him. Where was he? He
+rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Dreaming,
+no doubt; but what meant all these nimble
+little beings bustling hither and thither
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg&nbsp;42]</a></span>
+in hot haste? What meant these pearl-bedecked
+caves, scarcely larger than swallows&rsquo;
+nests? these green canopies, overgrown with
+moss? He pinched himself, and gazed again.
+Countless flowers nodded to him, and
+seemed, like himself, on tiptoe with curiosity,
+he thought. He beckoned one of the busy,
+dwarfish little brownies toward him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I ken I&rsquo;m talking in my sleep,&rdquo; said the
+lad; &ldquo;but can ye tell me what dell is this,
+and how I chanced to be in it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The brownie might or might not have
+heard; but, at any rate, he deigned no reply,
+and went on with his task, which was pounding
+seeds in a stone mortar.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Am I Robin Telfer, of the Valley of
+Yarrow, and yet canna shake aff my silly
+dreams?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Weel, my lad,&rdquo; quoth the queen of the
+fairies, giving him a smart tap with her wand,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg&nbsp;43]</a></span>
+&ldquo;stir yersel&rsquo;, and be at work; for naebody
+idles in Elf-land.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Bewildered Robin ventured a look at the
+little queen. By daylight she seemed somewhat
+sleepy and tired; and was withal so
+tiny, that he might almost have taken her between
+his thumb and finger, and twirled her
+above his head; yet she poised herself before
+him on a mullein-stalk, and looked every
+inch a queen. Robin found her gaze oppressive;
+for her eyes were hard and cold
+and gray, as if they had been little orbs of
+granite.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Get ye to work, Wild Robin!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What to do?&rdquo; meekly asked the boy,
+hungrily glancing at a few kernels of rye
+which had rolled out of one of the brownie&rsquo;s
+mortars.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are ye hungry, my laddie? touch a
+grain of rye if ye dare! Shell these dry
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg&nbsp;44]</a></span>
+bains; and if so be ye&rsquo;re starving, eat as
+many as ye can boil in an acorn-cup.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With these words she gave the boy a withered
+bean-pod, and, summoning a meek little
+brownie, bade him see that the lad did not
+over-fill the acorn-cup, and that he did not so
+much as peck at a grain of rye. Then,
+glancing sternly at her unhappy prisoner, she
+withdrew, sweeping after her the long train
+of her green robe.</p>
+
+<p>The dull days crept by, and still there
+seemed no hope that Wild Robin would ever
+escape from his beautiful but detested prison.
+He had no wings, poor laddie; and he could
+neither become invisible nor draw himself
+through a keyhole bodily.</p>
+
+<p>It is true, he had mortal companions:
+many chubby babies; many bright-eyed
+boys and girls, whose distracted parents
+were still seeking them, far and wide, upon
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg&nbsp;45]</a></span>
+the earth. It would almost seem that the
+wonders of Fairy-land might make the little
+prisoners happy. There were countless treasures
+to be had for the taking, and the very
+dust in the little streets was precious with
+specks of gold: but the poor children shivered
+for the want of a mother&rsquo;s love; they
+all pined for the dear home-people. If a certain
+task seemed to them particularly irksome,
+the heartless queen was sure to find it
+out, and oblige them to perform it, day after
+day. If they disliked any article of food,
+that, and no other, were they forced to eat,
+or starve.</p>
+
+<p>Wild Robin, loathing his withered beans
+and unsalted broths, longed intensely for one
+little breath of fragrant steam from the toothsome
+parritch on his father&rsquo;s table, one glance
+at a roasted potato. He was homesick for
+the gentle sister he had neglected, the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg&nbsp;46]</a></span>
+rough brothers whose cheeks he had pelted
+black and blue; and yearned for the very
+chinks in the walls, the very thatch on the
+home-roof.</p>
+
+<p>Gladly would he have given every fairy-flower,
+at the root of which clung a lump of
+gold ore, if he might have had his own coverlet
+&ldquo;happed&rdquo; about him once more by the
+gentle hands he had despised.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mither,&rdquo; he whispered in his dreams,
+&ldquo;my shoon are worn, and my feet bleed; but
+I&rsquo;ll soon creep hame, if I can. Keep the
+parritch warm for me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Robin was as strong as a mountain-goat;
+and his strength was put to the task of threshing
+rye, grinding oats and corn, or drawing
+water from a brook.</p>
+
+<p>Every night, troops of gay fairies and plodding
+brownies stole off on a visit to the upper
+world, leaving Robin and his companions
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg&nbsp;47]</a></span>
+in ever deeper despair. Poor Robin! he
+was fain to sing,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Oh that my father had ne&rsquo;er on me smiled!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Oh that my mother had ne&rsquo;er to me sung!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh that my cradle had never been rocked,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But that I had died when I was young!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Now, there was one good-natured brownie
+who pitied Robin. When he took a journey to
+earth with his fellow-brownies, he often
+threshed rye for the laddie&rsquo;s father, or
+churned butter in his good mother&rsquo;s dairy,
+unseen and unsuspected. If the little creature
+had been watched, and paid for these
+good offices, he would have left the farmhouse
+forever in sore displeasure.</p>
+
+<p>To homesick Robin he brought news of
+the family who mourned him as dead. He
+stole a silky tress of Janet&rsquo;s fair hair, and
+wondered to see the boy weep over it; for
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg&nbsp;48]</a></span>
+brotherly affection is a sentiment which
+never yet penetrated the heart of a brownie.
+The dull little sprite would gladly have
+helped the poor lad to his freedom, but told
+him that only on one night of the year was
+there the least hope, and that was on Hallow-e&rsquo;en,
+when the whole nation of fairies
+ride in procession through the streets of
+earth.</p>
+
+<p>So Robin was instructed to spin a dream,
+which the kind brownie would hum in
+Janet&rsquo;s ear while she slept. By this means
+the lassie would not only learn that her
+brother was in the power of the elves, but
+would also learn how to release him.</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly, the night before Hallow-e&rsquo;en,
+the bonnie Janet dreamed that the long-lost
+Robin was living in Elf-land, and that he
+was to pass through the streets with a cavalcade
+of fairies. But, alas! how should even
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg&nbsp;49]</a></span>
+a sister know him in the dim starlight, among
+the passing troops of elfish and mortal riders?
+The dream assured her that she
+might let the first company go by, and the
+second; but Robin would be one of the
+third:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;First let pass the black, Janet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And syne let pass the brown;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But grip ye to the milk-white steed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And pull the rider down.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For <em>I</em> ride on the milk-white steed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And aye nearest the town:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Because I was a christened lad<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They gave me that renown.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My right hand will be gloved, Janet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My left hand will be bare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And these the tokens I give thee:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">No doubt I will be there.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg&nbsp;50]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">They&rsquo;ll shape me in your arms, Janet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A toad, snake, and an eel<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But hold me fast, nor let me gang,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As you do love me weel.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They&rsquo;ll shape me in your arms, Janet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A dove, bat, and a swan:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cast your green mantle over me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I&rsquo;ll be myself again.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The good sister Janet, far from remembering
+any of the old sins of her brother, wept
+for joy to know that he was yet among the living.
+She told no one of her strange dream;
+but hastened secretly to the Miles Cross, saw
+the strange cavalcade pricking through the
+greenwood, and pulled down the rider on the
+milk-white steed, holding him fast through all
+his changing shapes. But when she had
+thrown her green mantle over him, and
+clasped him in her arms as her own brother
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg&nbsp;51]</a></span>
+Robin, the angry voice of the fairy queen
+was heard:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Up then spake the queen of fairies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Out of a bush of rye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&lsquo;You&rsquo;ve taken away the bonniest lad<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In all my companie.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&lsquo;Had I but had the wit, yestreen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That I have learned to-day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I&rsquo;d pinned the sister to her bed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">E&rsquo;re he&rsquo;d been won away!&rsquo;&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>However, it was too late now. Wild Robin
+was safe, and the elves had lost their power
+over him forever. His forgiving parents
+and his leal-hearted brothers welcomed him
+home with more than the old love.</p>
+
+<p>So grateful and happy was the poor laddie,
+that he nevermore grumbled at his oat-meal
+parritch, or minded his kye with a scowling
+brow.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg&nbsp;52]</a></span>
+But to the end of his days, when he heard
+mention of fairies and brownies, his mind
+wandered off in a mizmaze. He died in
+peace, and was buried on the banks of the
+Yarrow.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg&nbsp;53]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE VESPER STAR.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Once upon a time, the new moon was shining
+like a silver bow in the heavens, and the
+stars glittered and trembled as if they were
+afraid.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What frightens you?&rdquo; said the placid
+Moon; &ldquo;be calm, like me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am freezing,&rdquo; answered the North Star;
+&ldquo;that is why I shake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We are dancing,&rdquo; said the Seven Sisters;
+&ldquo;and, watch as closely as you please, you can
+never get a fair peep at our golden sandals,
+our feet twinkle so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am sleepy,&rdquo; grumbled the Great Bear;
+&ldquo;I am trying to keep my eyes open. Perhaps
+that is the reason I wink so much.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg&nbsp;54]</a></span>
+Thus, with one accord, they made excuses
+to the pale Moon, who is their guardian,&mdash;all
+but the sweet Vesper Star: she was silent;
+and when a white cloud floated by, she
+was glad of an excuse to hide her face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let the North Star shiver, and the Seven
+Sisters dance, and all the golden stars hold a
+revel,&rdquo; thought she; &ldquo;as for me, I am sad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>For you must know that the Vesper Star
+has a task to perform, and is not allowed to
+sleep. She keeps vigil over the Earth, by
+night; and never ceases her watch till the
+world is up in the morning. For the sick
+and sad, who cannot sleep, she feels an unutterable
+pity, so that her heart is always
+throbbing with sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>The Moon looked at the Vesper Star, and
+said, &ldquo;Dream on, sweet sister; for you, the
+noblest of all, have told me no falsehood.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This the Moon said because she knew that
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg&nbsp;55]</a></span>
+none of the stars had given a true reason for
+twinkling so gayly that night. The truth was,
+they were filled with envy, and were trying
+to be as brilliant as possible, to compete with
+a flaming Comet which had just appeared in
+the sky.</p>
+
+<p>It is not for man to know how long and
+how peacefully the gentle stars had travelled
+together, doing the work which God has appointed,
+without a murmur. But now that
+this distinguished stranger had arrived, the
+whole firmament was in dismay. How
+proudly he strode the heavens! how his
+blaze illumined the sky! The Stars whispered
+one to another, and cast angry eyes on
+the shining wonder.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Make way for me,&rdquo; he said, sweeping
+after him a glorious train of light.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not I,&rdquo; muttered the fiery Mars.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not I,&rdquo; quoth the majestic Jupiter; &ldquo;I
+do not move an inch.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg&nbsp;56]</a></span>
+The Comet flashed with a lofty disdain.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Puny Stars,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;keep your places,
+give out all your light,&mdash;nobody heeds you;
+the place of honor is always by the Vesper
+Star; here I make my throne.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Vesper Star smiled sadly, but without
+a twinge of envy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Welcome, shining one! Warm me with
+your fires; let us work together.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Work!&rdquo; cried the Comet, throwing out
+sparkles of scorn; &ldquo;I was not born to work,
+but to <em>shine</em>!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; said the Vesper Star; &ldquo;you
+have come into strange company, then; for
+here we all work with a good will.&rdquo; &ldquo;He
+does not burn with the true fire,&rdquo; thought
+the good Star; and she wrapped herself
+about with a soft cloud, and said no more.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh that I could be set on fire like the
+Comet!&rdquo; thought the cold North Star. &ldquo;I
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg&nbsp;57]</a></span>
+would gladly burn to death if I could astonish
+the world with my blaze!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let us die!&rdquo; said the Seven Sisters;
+&ldquo;let us die together; we have ceased to be
+noticed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, hum!&rdquo; growled the Great Bear;
+&ldquo;so many years as I have kept watch in this
+sky; and now to be set one side by this upstart
+of a foreigner! I&rsquo;ve a great mind to
+go to sleep and never wake up!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; whispered the Vesper Star gently;
+&ldquo;do your duty, and trust God for the
+rest.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And lo! that very night there was an end
+of the Comet&rsquo;s splendor.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Adieu, my dull friends,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;I am
+tired of a quiet life: a little more, and I
+should fade out entirely!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then, with a blaze and a whiz, and a dizzy
+wheel, he flashed out of the sky; and no one
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg&nbsp;58]</a></span>
+knew whither he went, or whence he came,
+any more than the path of the quick lightning.</p>
+
+<p>The stars were ashamed of their envy, and
+went to their old work with a stronger will
+and a steadier purpose: but to the Vesper
+Star was given a brighter and sweeter light
+than to any other, because she had done her
+work without envy and without repining.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg&nbsp;59]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE WATER-KELPIE.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Once there lived under the earth a race
+of fairies called gnomes. They were strange
+little beings, with dull eyes and harsh voices;
+but they did no harm, and lived in peace.</p>
+
+<p>They never saw the sun; but they had
+lamps much brighter than our gaslight, which
+burned night and day, year after year.</p>
+
+<p>They had music; but it was the tinkling
+of silver bells and golden harps,&mdash;not half
+so sweet as the singing of birds and the babbling
+of brooks.</p>
+
+<p>Flowers they had none, but plenty of
+gems,&mdash;&ldquo;the stars of earth.&rdquo; There were
+green trees in the kingdom: but the leaves
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg&nbsp;60]</a></span>
+were hard emeralds; and the fruit, apples of
+gold or cherries of ruby; and these precious
+gems the gnomes ground to powder, and
+swallowed with much satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>They heaped up piles of gold and diamonds
+as high as your head; and never was
+there a gnome so poor as to build a house of
+any thing a whit coarser than jasper or onyx.
+You would have believed yourself dreaming,
+if you could have walked through the streets
+of their cities. They were paved with rosy
+almandine and snowy alabaster; and the palaces
+glittered in the gay lamplight like a
+million stars.</p>
+
+<p>These gnomes led, for the most part,
+rather dull lives. Like their cousins, the
+water-sprites, or undines, they were roguish
+and shrewd, but had no higher views of life
+than our katydids and crickets. Indeed,
+they hardly cared for any thing but frisking
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg&nbsp;61]</a></span>
+about, eating and sleeping. But, after all,
+what can be expected of creatures without
+souls? One sees, now and then, stupid human
+beings, whose eyes have no thoughts in
+them, and whose souls seem to be sound
+asleep. Such lumps of dulness might almost
+as well be gnomes, and slip into the earth
+and have done with it.</p>
+
+<p>These underground folk had a great horror
+of our world. They knew all about it;
+for one of them had peeped out and taken a
+bird&rsquo;s-eye view. He went up very bravely,
+but hurried back with such strange accounts,
+that his friends considered him a little insane.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Listen!&rdquo; said the gnome, whose name was
+Clod. &ldquo;The earth has a soft carpet, of a new
+kind of emerald; overhead is a blue roof,
+made of turquoise; but I am told that there
+is a crack in it, and sometimes water comes
+pouring down in torrents. But the worst
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg&nbsp;62]</a></span>
+plague of all is a great glaring eye-ball of
+fire, which mortals call the sun.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When Clod told his stories of the earth, he
+always ended by saying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Believe me, it is bad luck to have the
+sun shine on you. It nearly put my eyes
+out; and I have had the headache ever
+since.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Now, there was a young girl, named Moneta,
+who listened very eagerly to the old
+gnome&rsquo;s stories of the earth, and thought she
+would like to see it for herself. She was a
+kind little maiden, as playful as a kitten; and
+her friends were not willing she should go.
+But Moneta had somewhere heard that
+fairies who marry mortals receive the gift
+of a human soul: so, in spite of all objections,
+she was resolved to take the journey;
+for she had in her dark mind some vague aspirations
+after a higher state of being.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg&nbsp;63]</a></span>
+Then the gnome-family declared, that, if
+she once went away, they would never allow
+her to return; for they highly disapproved
+of running backward and forward between
+the two worlds, gossiping.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you no love of country,&rdquo; cried
+they, &ldquo;that you would willingly cast your
+lot among silly creatures who look down
+upon your race?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The old gnome, who had travelled, took the
+romantic maiden one side, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear Moneta, since you <em>will</em> go, I
+must tell you a secret; for you remember I
+have seen the world, and know all about it.
+Mortals are a higher race than ourselves, it is
+true; but that is only because they live atop
+o&rsquo; the earth, while we are under their feet.
+They make a great parade about their little
+ticking jewel they call Conscience; but, after
+all, they will any of them sell it for one of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg&nbsp;64]</a></span>
+our ear-rings! I assure you they love money
+better than their own souls; and I would advise
+you, as a friend that has seen the world,
+to load yourself with as much gold as you
+can carry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So Moneta donned a heavy dress of spun
+gold, which was woven in such a manner,
+that, at every motion she made, it let fall a
+shower of gold-dust. She filled the sleeves
+with sardonyx, almandine, and amethyst; and
+hid in her bosom diamonds and sapphires
+enough to purchase a kingdom.</p>
+
+<p>Then she went up a steep ladder, and
+knocked on the alabaster ceiling, using the
+charm which the gnome had given her:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mother Earth, Mother Earth, set me
+free!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At her words there was a sound as of an
+earthquake, and a little space was made, just
+large enough for her to crawl through.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg&nbsp;65]</a></span>
+When she had reached the top, the earth
+closed again, and she was left seated upon a
+rock; and the light of the sun was so dazzling,
+that she hid her face in her hands.</p>
+
+<p>Thus she sat for a long time, not knowing
+whither to go, till a young man chanced to
+come that way, who said, &ldquo;What do you
+here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She raised her face at his words, and could
+not speak, so great was her surprise at the
+beauty of the strange youth. He, for his
+part, could not help smiling; for she was as
+yellow as an orange; and an uglier little
+creature he had never beheld: but he said
+in a kind voice,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come with me to my mother&rsquo;s house, and
+you shall be refreshed with cake and wine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She arose to follow him; and, as she
+walked, a bright shower of gold-dust sprinkled
+the earth at every step.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg&nbsp;66]</a></span>
+The young man held out his hands eagerly
+to catch the shining spray, thinking he would
+like such a rarely-gifted damsel for his wife;
+and, in truth, he smiled so sweetly, and
+dropped such winning words, that in time he
+won her heart and she became his bride.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;And, when she cam&rsquo; into the kirk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She shimmered like the sun;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The belt that was about her waist<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was a&rsquo; with pearles bedone.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>So great was her love for him, that she
+forgot her lost home under the earth; and
+every day, when she bade her husband
+&ldquo;good-morning,&rdquo; she placed in his hand a
+precious stone; and he kissed her, calling
+her his &ldquo;dear Moneta,&rdquo; his &ldquo;heart&rsquo;s jewel.&rdquo;
+But at last the diamonds, sapphires, and rubies
+were all gone; and she was also losing
+the power of shedding gold-dust. Then her
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg&nbsp;67]</a></span>
+husband frowned on her, and no longer called
+her his &ldquo;heart&rsquo;s jewel,&rdquo; or his &ldquo;dear Moneta.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At length she presented him with a little
+daughter as lovely as a water-sprite, with
+hair like threads of gold. Now the father
+watched the babe with a greedy eye; for its
+mother had wept precious tears of molten
+gold before she received the gift of human
+grief, and he hoped her child would do
+the same; but, when he found it was only a
+common mortal, he shut his heart against the
+babe. Moneta was no longer yellow and
+ugly, but very beautiful; with deep eyes, out
+of which looked a sweet soul: yet she had
+lost her fairy gifts, and her husband had
+ceased to love her. The good woman
+mourned in secret; and would have wished
+to die, only her precious child comforted her
+heart.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg&nbsp;68]</a></span>
+One day, as she was sitting by the shore
+of the lake, a water-kelpie saw her weeping,
+and came to her in the form of a white-haired
+old man, saying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Charming lady! why do you weep?
+Come with me to my kingdom under the waters.
+My people are always happy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then she looked where he bade her, and
+saw, afar down under the waters, a beautiful
+city, whose streets were paved with red
+and white coral.</p>
+
+<p>The kelpie said, &ldquo;Will you go down?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; sighed Moneta, thinking of the kind
+words her husband had sometimes spoken to
+her: &ldquo;I cannot go yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But the kelpie came every day, repeating
+the question, &ldquo;Will you go now?&rdquo; and she
+answered, &ldquo;I cannot go yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But at last her husband said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How often the thought comes to me, If
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg&nbsp;69]</a></span>
+I had no wife and child, all this gold would
+be mine!&rdquo; and he knitted his brows with a
+frown.</p>
+
+<p>Then Moneta looked in his face, and
+said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear Ivan, I have loved you truly; but
+you no longer care for Moneta. I will go
+away with the little child, and all our gold
+shall be yours. Farewell!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then she embraced him with falling tears.
+His heart was stirred within him; and he
+would have followed her, only he knew not
+which way she had gone.</p>
+
+<p>Soon the water-kelpie came to him in the
+form of a horse; and ran before him, neighing
+fiercely, and breathing fire from his
+mouth. This is the way kelpies take to announce
+the fact that some one has gone under
+the water.</p>
+
+<p>So the man followed the kelpie. His heart
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg&nbsp;70]</a></span>
+was swelling with grief; and all his love for
+his wife and child had come back to him.</p>
+
+<p>He looked into the lake, and saw the fair
+city. In a transparent palace Moneta was
+sitting, crowned with pearls, the child sleeping
+on her bosom. He shouted,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come back, O Moneta!&rdquo; but she heard
+him not.</p>
+
+<p>He went every day to the same spot,
+never leaving it until the water was clear,
+and he had seen his wife and child. He
+cared no more for his fine castle and his
+gold; for the castle was empty, and the gold
+could not speak.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Alas,&rdquo; cried he, &ldquo;if I could listen to the
+music of Moneta&rsquo;s voice! if I could hold the
+child in my arms once more!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Now he cared for nothing but to gaze into
+the waters at Moneta and her child.</p>
+
+<p>One day, the water-kelpie appeared to him
+in the form of an old man.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 479px;">
+<img src="images/fb02.jpg" width="479" height="600"
+alt="Ivan stares down into the water, where Moneta sits with their child" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE WATER-KELPIE. Page <a href="#Page_70">70</a>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg&nbsp;71]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Why sit you here, sighing like the north
+wind?&rdquo; said the kelpie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have loved gold better than my best
+friends,&rdquo; replied Ivan; &ldquo;and now my best
+friends are taken away from me, and the gold
+is left; but I love it no longer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, ah!&rdquo; growled the kelpie; &ldquo;I have
+heard of such men as you: nothing is dear
+till it is missed. You should have thought
+of that before. If your lost ones were to
+return, you would treat them as badly as
+ever, no doubt.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; groaned Ivan; &ldquo;I would love
+them better than all the wealth in the world!
+I would love them better than my own life!
+Ah, the sting it is to think of my own ingratitude!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hold!&rdquo; said the kelpie: &ldquo;grumble to
+yourself if you like, but don&rsquo;t vex my ears
+with your complaints. Suppose I were to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg&nbsp;72]</a></span>
+bring back Moneta and the child,&mdash;would
+you give me your chests of gold?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That I will,&rdquo; cried the man, &ldquo;right joyfully.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not so fast: will you give me your castle
+as well?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, yes, castle and gold; take them, and
+welcome.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not so fast: Moneta and her child are
+worth more than these. Will you give me
+the castle and gold, and ten years of your
+life?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;With all my heart.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said the kelpie &ldquo;go home, and
+to-morrow you shall see Moneta and her
+child.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When the morrow came, the husband and
+wife wept for joy at meeting once more; and
+Ivan said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can you forgive me, dearest Moneta?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg&nbsp;73]</a></span>
+Moneta had already forgiven him; and the
+three&mdash;father, mother, and child&mdash;loved
+one another, and were content to the end of
+their lives; and Ivan said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Once for all I have found that gold cannot
+make one happy; but, with the blessing
+of a clear conscience, warm hearts and loving
+words are the sweetest things in life.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg&nbsp;74]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE LOST SYLPHID.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">&ldquo;I tell the tale as &rsquo;twas told to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+<p>I have heard that one night, on a distant
+shore, a band of water-nixies were dancing
+to gentle music, their golden sandals twinkling
+like stars.</p>
+
+<p>A lord and lady were walking on the same
+shore. The lord&rsquo;s eyes were bent on the
+ground; but his wife paused, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Listen, my lord, to that enchanting music!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hear no music,&rdquo; he replied, laughing.
+&ldquo;You must wake up, dear wife.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;With half-shut eyes, ever you seem<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Falling asleep in a half-dream.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg&nbsp;75]</a></span>
+&ldquo;But, my lord, those exquisite beings in
+gossamer robes! surely you see them!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I see the play of the moonbeams, my
+love, and nothing more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But the wife stood transfixed. One beautiful
+fairy, taller and fairer than her companions,
+had wings, and floated through the
+dance, scarcely touching the earth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Was ever such a vision of loveliness?&rdquo;
+cried the enraptured lady: &ldquo;she must be my
+own little daughter,&mdash;eat of my bread, and
+sleep upon my bosom.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then, kneeling, she sang,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Fair little nixies, that dwell near the water,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give me the winged one to be my own daughter.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The dance ceased. The nixies, bewildered,
+looked north and south, and knew
+not which way to flee; but the winged fairy,
+attracted by the human love in the lady&rsquo;s
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg&nbsp;76]</a></span>
+eyes, glided slowly forward. Then the nixies
+stormed in fierce wrath, their willowy
+figures swaying to and fro as if blown by the
+wind.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They shall not harm you, little one.
+Come with me, be my own daughter, and I
+will carry you home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Home!&rdquo; echoed the lovely child; &ldquo;my
+home is in the Summer-land. Oh, will you
+indeed carry me there?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then she folded her white wings, and
+nestled in the lady&rsquo;s bosom like a gentle
+dove, and was borne to a beautiful castle that
+overlooked the sea. The water-nixies soon
+forgot her, for they could not hold her memory
+in their little humming-bird hearts.</p>
+
+<p>She was not of their race. Her wings
+were soft and transparent, like those of a
+white butterfly; and she ever declared that
+she had once alighted from a cloud, and been
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg&nbsp;77]</a></span>
+caught in a nixie&rsquo;s net spread upon the
+grass.</p>
+
+<p>But, in time, her wings dwindled and disappeared;
+and then the lord, who was now her
+father, could not remember that she had ever
+been other than an earthly child.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You fancy you were once a sylphid,&rdquo;
+said he; &ldquo;but there are no sylphids, my
+sweet one, and there is no Summer-land.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The child became as dear to the lord and
+lady as their very heart&rsquo;s blood; and they
+forgot her foreign birth, and almost believed,
+as all the world did, that she was their own
+little daughter. But the child did not forget.
+She longed for the true home she had
+left; but whither should she go to seek
+it?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear papa,&rdquo; said she, one day, &ldquo;I beg
+you will not say again there are no sylphids;
+for I remember so well how I spread my
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg&nbsp;78]</a></span>
+wings and flew. It was glorious to see the
+clouds float under my feet!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said the lord; &ldquo;if you like,
+I will say there are sylphids in the air, and
+trolls inside the earth; and, once on a time,
+I was myself a great white butterfly: do you
+remember chasing me over a bed of roses?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O papa, now you laugh! I love the
+twinkle in your eye; and I am so glad it is
+you, and no one else, who is my papa; but
+just the same, and forevermore, I shall keep
+saying, <em>I was a sylphid</em>!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, when she set her white teeth
+into some delicious fruit, she said with
+dreamy eyes,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;These grapes of Samarcand came across
+the seas; but they are not so sweet as the
+fruit in my own garden, mamma.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And where is your garden, my child?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, in the Summer-land. I always forget
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg&nbsp;79]</a></span>
+that you have never seen it. When I go
+there again, mamma, I will certainly take you
+too; for I love you with all my heart. I can
+never go without you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When she heard the evening-bells from the
+minster, she said, &ldquo;Oh, they are like the joy-bells
+at home, only not so sweet. Nothing,
+here, is so sweet. Even my dear mamma is
+not so lovely as the lady who comes when I
+am asleep.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Little One&mdash;they called her Little One for
+the want of a name&mdash;loved to prattle about
+the wonders of that mysterious fairy-land,
+which no one but herself had ever seen. Her
+mother would not check her, but let her tell
+her pretty visions of remembered rainbows,
+and palaces, and precious gems. She said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The child has such a vivid fancy! It is
+not all of us who can see pictures when our
+eyes are shut.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg&nbsp;80]</a></span>
+But the lord was not so well pleased; and
+once, when his daughter looked at a frozen
+stream and murmured, &ldquo;<em>We</em> have the <em>happiest</em>
+rivers at home; they sing all day long,
+all the year, without freezing! Can I find
+that Summer-land again! Oh, I would
+creep all over the world to seek it,&rdquo; he
+replied,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Little One, it is some cloud-city you are
+thinking of, some dream-land, or isle of Long
+Ago, which you will never see again. I beg
+you to forget these wild fancies.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But still the child dreamed on. Once she
+heard the glad song of the Hyperboreans:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I come from a land in the sun-bright deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where golden gardens glow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the winds of the North, becalmed in sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their conch-shells never blow.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>She clapped her hands, murmuring to herself,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg&nbsp;81]</a></span>
+&ldquo;<em>There</em> is my home! I think I remember
+now it <em>was</em> &lsquo;a land in the sun-bright
+deep!&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So, when she journeyed with her parents
+to distant countries, she always hoped that
+some ship would bear her away to the Happy
+Isles; and when they once touched a bright
+shore, and some one cried, &ldquo;The isles of
+Greece! the isles of Greece!&rdquo; she thought
+she was home at last, and hardly dared look
+at the remembered shore. But, alas, she had
+not yet reached the Summer-land: this was
+not her home.</p>
+
+<p>Then she heard her father say that the
+jewels she wore had been brought up from
+the deep places under the earth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wonder I had not thought of that,&rdquo; she
+said to herself. &ldquo;Since there are such beautiful
+gems in my lost home, it must lie under
+the earth. No doubt if I could only find the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg&nbsp;82]</a></span>
+right cave, and walk in it far enough, I
+should come to the Summer-land.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So she set out, one day, in wild haste, but
+only lost herself in a deep cavern; and, when
+she found daylight again, she was all alone
+upon the face of the earth. Her father and
+mother were nowhere to be seen. She
+shouted their names, and ran to and fro seeking
+them till her strength was all spent. It
+was growing dark; and Little One could only
+creep under a shelter, and weep herself
+asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning it was no better, but far
+worse. Her wretched parents had gone
+home, believing her drowned in the sea.
+Poor Little One was now all alone in the
+world, and her heart ached with the cold.
+Kind friends gave her food and shelter, and
+her clothing was warm as warm could be;
+still her heart ached with the cold. People
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg&nbsp;83]</a></span>
+praised her beauty so much that she dared
+not look up to let them see how lovely she
+was; but she had lost both her father and
+mother, and her heart ached and ached. She
+thought winter was coming on; and the
+world was growing so chilly, that now she
+must certainly set out for the Summer-land.
+Then she said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I am a sylphid, perhaps my home is
+over the hills, and far away. Yes: I think it
+must be in the country where the music
+goes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>For she thought, when she heard music,
+that it seemed to hover and float over the
+earth, and lose itself in the sky; so she began
+to set her face toward the country where
+the music goes. But, though she gazed till
+her eyes ached, she never saw her long-lost
+home, nor so much as a glimpse of one of its
+spires.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg&nbsp;84]</a></span>
+One night, after gazing and weeping till
+she could scarcely see, and had no tears left,
+the bright being who visited her dreams
+came and whispered,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;If there be a land so fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O&rsquo;er the mountain shining,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You will never enter there<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By looking up and pining.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear me! then what shall I do?&rdquo; said
+Little One, clasping her hands. &ldquo;I am tired
+of the dropping rain, and the bleak winds;
+I have lost my father and mother; I long to
+go home to the Summer-land.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There are hills to climb, and streams to
+cross,&rdquo; said the fairy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I have stout shoes,&rdquo; laughed Little
+One.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There are thorns and briers all along the
+road.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg&nbsp;85]</a></span>
+&ldquo;But I can bear to be pricked.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then I will guide you,&rdquo; said the fairy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How can that be?&rdquo; cried the child.
+&ldquo;You come to me in dreams; but by daylight
+I cannot see so much as the tips of
+your wings.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Listen, and you will hear my voice,&rdquo; replied
+the fairy. &ldquo;Set out toward the East,
+at dawn, to-morrow, and I will be with you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When Little One awoke, the sun was rising,
+and she said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh that golden gate! The sun has left
+it open: do you see it, beautiful lady?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I see it,&rdquo; whispered the fairy: &ldquo;I am
+close beside you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said Little One, fastening her
+dress, and putting on all the jewels she could
+possibly carry, &ldquo;I think I will set out at
+once; for, if I make all speed, I may reach
+the Summer-land before that golden gate is
+closed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg&nbsp;86]</a></span>
+She pressed on, as the fairy directed, up a
+steep hill, her eyes fixed on the glowing eastern
+sky. But, as the sun strode up higher,
+the morning clouds melted away.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is my golden gate?&rdquo; cried the
+child.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Weeping so soon?&rdquo; whispered the fairy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do not scold me, dear Whisper,&rdquo; moaned
+the child; &ldquo;you know I have lost my kind
+father and mother; and the thorns prick me;
+and then this is such a lonely road; there is
+nobody to be seen.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The truth was, there were children gathering
+strawberries on the hill, and old women
+digging herbs; but Little One did not see
+them, for she was all the while watching the
+sky. But she was soon obliged to pause, and
+take breath.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look about you,&rdquo; said the Whisper, &ldquo;you
+may see some one as unhappy as yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg&nbsp;87]</a></span>
+The child looked, and saw a little girl driving
+a goat; while large tears trickled down
+her cheeks, and moistened her tattered dress.
+For a moment, Little One&rsquo;s heart ceased aching
+with its own troubles.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is your name, little girl?&rdquo; said she:
+&ldquo;and why do you weep?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My name is Poor Dorel,&rdquo; replied the
+child; &ldquo;my father and mother are long since
+dead; and I have nothing to eat but goat&rsquo;s
+milk and strawberries:&rdquo; and, as she spoke,
+the large tears started afresh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor Dorel! you are the first one I ever
+saw who had as much trouble as I. I, too,
+have lost a father and mother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Were they a king and queen?&rdquo; asked
+Dorel, wiping her eyes, and gazing at Little
+One&rsquo;s beautiful dress and glittering ornaments.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They loved me dearly,&rdquo; replied Little
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg&nbsp;88]</a></span>
+One sadly; &ldquo;yet I never heard that they
+were king and queen. Come with me, darling
+Dorel! I never before saw any one who
+was hungry. Come with me! I live in a
+country where there is food enough for
+everybody.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is that?&rdquo; said Dorel, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not quite know, little girl; but it is
+not in the bosom of the earth, and it is not in
+the sun-bright deep: so I suppose it is over
+the hills, and far away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now I know who you are,&rdquo; said Dorel.
+&ldquo;You are the <em>lost sylphid</em>; and people say
+you have travelled all over the world. But,
+if you do not know the way home, pray how
+can you tell which road to take?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! I have a guide,&mdash;a beautiful fairy,
+called Whisper: she shows me every step of
+the way. I wish you would go too, little
+Dorel!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg&nbsp;89]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I think I will not, little Sylphid; for, if
+you have only a Whisper for a guide, I do
+not believe you will ever get there; but, oh,
+you are very, very beautiful!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you will not go,&rdquo; said Little One, &ldquo;let
+me, at least, give you a few of my jewels:
+you can sell them for bread.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So saying, she took from her girdle some
+turquoise ornaments, and placed them in Dorel&rsquo;s
+hand with a kiss which had her whole
+heart in it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now I love you,&rdquo; said Dorel; &ldquo;but more
+for the kiss than any thing else; and I am
+going before you to cut down the thorns
+that shoot out by the wayside. I am a little
+mountain-girl, and know how to use the
+pruning-knife.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Little One danced for joy. She found she
+could now walk with wonderful ease; for not
+only were there no more sharp thorns to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg&nbsp;90]</a></span>
+prick her, but her heart was also full of a
+new love, which made the whole world look
+beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You see the way is growing easier,&rdquo; said
+the Whisper.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Pour out thy love like the rush of a river,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wasting its waters forever and ever.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So I will,&rdquo; said Little One. &ldquo;Is there
+any one else to love?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>By and by she met an old woman, bent
+nearly double, and picking up dry sticks with
+trembling hands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor woman!&rdquo; said Little One: &ldquo;I am
+going to love you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear me!&rdquo; said the old crone, dropping
+her sticks, and looking up with surprise in
+every wrinkle: &ldquo;you don&rsquo;t mean <em>me</em>? Why,
+my heart is all dried up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then you need to be loved all the more,&rdquo;
+cried Little One heartily.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg&nbsp;91]</a></span>
+The poor woman laughed; but, at the same
+time, brushed a tear from her eye with the
+corner of her apron.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought,&rdquo; said Little One, &ldquo;I was the
+only unhappy one in the world: it seemed
+a pity my heart should ache so much; but,
+oh, I would rather have it ache than be dried
+up!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose you never were beaten,&rdquo; said
+the old woman; &ldquo;you were never pelted
+with whizzing stones?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed I never, never was!&rdquo; replied Little
+One, greatly shocked by the question.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By your costly dress, I know you never
+were so poor as to be always longing for
+food. Let me tell you, my good child, when
+one is beaten and scolded, and feels cold all
+winter, and hungry all summer, it is no wonder
+one&rsquo;s heart dries up!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Little One threw her arms about the old
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg&nbsp;92]</a></span>
+woman&rsquo;s neck. &ldquo;Let me help you pick
+sticks!&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;you are too old for hard
+work; your hands tremble too much.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Swiftly gathering up a load of fagots, she
+put them together in a bundle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, how many jewels shall I give her?&rdquo;
+thought the child. &ldquo;She must never want
+for food again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How many?&rdquo; echoed the Whisper.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Give as the morning that flows out of heaven:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give as the free air and sunshine are given.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then she shall have half,&rdquo; said Little
+One in great glee. &ldquo;Here, poor woman,
+take these sapphires and rubies and diamonds,
+and never be hungry again!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Heavenly child!&rdquo; said the stranger, laying
+her wasted hand on the sylphid&rsquo;s bright
+head, and blessing her, &ldquo;it is little except
+thanks that an old creature like me can give;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg&nbsp;93]</a></span>
+yet may be you will not scorn this pair of little
+shoes: they are strong, and, when you
+have to step on the sharp mountain-rocks,
+they will serve you well.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Little One&rsquo;s delicate slippers were already
+much worn, and she gladly exchanged them
+for the goat-skin shoes; but, strange to relate,
+no sooner had she done so than she
+found herself flitting over rocks and rough
+places with perfect ease, and at such speed,
+that, when she looked back, in a moment, she
+had already left the old woman far behind,
+and out of sight. They were magical shoes;
+but, no matter how fast they skimmed over
+the ground, Dorel, out of pure love, continued
+to go before, talking and laughing and
+smoothing the way.</p>
+
+<p>One by one Little One sold her jewels to
+buy bread, which she shared with all the
+needy she chanced to meet. After many
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg&nbsp;94]</a></span>
+days there remained but one gem; and she
+wept because she had no more to give. But,
+through her tears, she now, for the first time,
+fancied she could see the spires and turrets
+of her beautiful home, though, as yet, very
+far off.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How fast I have come!&rdquo; said she, laughing
+with delight. &ldquo;But for these magical
+shoes, and Dorel&rsquo;s pruning-knife, I should
+have been even now struggling at the foot
+of the hill.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then she looked down at her torn dress.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a sad plight I am in! no one will
+know me when I get home!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never fear!&rdquo; said the fairy: &ldquo;you are
+sure to be welcome.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Little One now held up her last jewel in
+the sunlight, while a starving boy looked at
+it with eager eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Take it!&rdquo; said she, weeping with the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg&nbsp;95]</a></span>
+tenderest pity. &ldquo;I only wish it were a diamond
+instead of a ruby,&mdash;a diamond as
+large as my heart!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 465px;">
+<img src="images/fb03.jpg" width="465" height="600"
+alt="Little One crosses the bridge" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE LOST SYLPHID. Page <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</p>
+
+<p>The boy blessed her with a tremulous
+voice. Little One pressed on, singing softly
+to herself, till she came to a frightful chasm,
+full of water.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How shall I ever cross it!&rdquo; she cried in
+alarm.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May I help you, fair Sylphid?&rdquo; said the
+grateful boy to whom she had given her last
+jewel. &ldquo;I can make a bridge in the twinkling
+of an eye.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So saying, he threw across the roaring
+torrent a film which looked as frail as any
+spider&rsquo;s web.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It will bear you,&rdquo; said the Whisper: &ldquo;do
+not be afraid!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So Little One ventured upon the gossamer
+bridge, which was to the eye as delicate as
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg&nbsp;96]</a></span>
+mist; but to the feet as strong as adamant.
+She hushed her fears, and walked over it
+with a stout heart.</p>
+
+<p>Now, she was on the borders of the Summer-land.
+Here were the turrets and spires,
+the soft white clouds, the green fields, and
+sunny streams. Instantly her long-lost wings
+appeared again; and she spread them like a
+happy bird, and flew home. Oh, it was
+worth years of longing and pain! She was
+held in tender embraces, and kissed lovingly
+by well-remembered friends. To her great
+surprise and delight, her father and mother
+were both there&mdash;they had arrived at the
+Summer-land while seeking their Little One.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now I know,&rdquo; said her father, &ldquo;that my
+daughter was not dreaming when she longed
+for her remembered home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Little One looked at her soiled dress; but
+the stains had disappeared; and, most
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg&nbsp;97]</a></span>
+wonderful! all the jewels she had worn on her
+neck and arms, and in her girdle, were there
+yet, burning with increased brilliancy. Little
+One gazed again, and counted to see if
+any were missing. Yes: two she had sold for
+bread were not there. It was the jewels she
+had <em>given away</em> which had come back in
+some mysterious manner and were more resplendent
+than before.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said she, with a beaming smile,
+&ldquo;now I know what it means when they say,
+&lsquo;All you give, you will carry with you.&rsquo; It
+was delightful to scatter my gems by the
+wayside; but I did not think they would all
+be given back to me when I reached home!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then, intwining arms with a bright sylphid,
+she flew with her over the gardens in
+a trance of delight.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here,&rdquo; said Little One, &ldquo;is my own dear
+garden. I remember the border and the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg&nbsp;98]</a></span>
+paths right well; but it never bore such
+golden fruit, it never glowed with such beautiful
+flowers.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your fairy, the one you call Whisper, has
+taken care of it for your sake,&rdquo; said the
+sister sylphid. &ldquo;Do you know that those
+flowers, and those trees with fruit like &lsquo;bonny
+beaten gold,&rsquo; have been watered by your
+tears, Little One? It is in this way they
+have attained their matchless beauty and
+grace.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<em>My tears</em>, little sister?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, your tears. Every one you shed
+upon earth, your fairy most carefully preserved;
+and see what wonders have been
+wrought!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I had known that,&rdquo; said Little One
+clapping her hands, &ldquo;I would have been <em>glad</em>
+of all my troubles! I would have smiled
+through my tears!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg&nbsp;99]</a></span>
+Now I know no more than I have told of
+this story of the Lost Sylphid. I tell the
+tale as &rsquo;twas told to me; and I wish, with all
+my heart, it were true.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg&nbsp;100]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE CASTLE OF GEMS.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Once upon a time, though I cannot tell
+when, and in what country I do not now remember,
+there lived a maiden as fair as a
+lily, as gentle as a dewdrop, and as modest
+as a violet. A pure, sweet name she had,&mdash;it
+was Blanche.</p>
+
+<p>She stood one evening, with her friend
+Victor, by the shore of a lake. Never had
+the youth or maiden seen the moonlight so
+enchanting; but they did not know</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;It was midsummer day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When all the fairy people<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From elf-land come away.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Presently, while they gazed at the lake,
+which shone like liquid emerald and sapphire
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg&nbsp;101]</a></span>
+and topaz, a boat, laden with strangely beautiful
+beings, glided towards them across the
+waters. The fair voyagers were clad in
+robes of misty blue with white mantles
+about their waists, and on their heads
+wreaths of valley-lilies.</p>
+
+<p>They were all as fair as need be; but fairest
+of all was the helms-woman, the queen of
+the fairies. Her face was soft and clear like
+moonlight; and she wore a crown of nine
+large diamonds, which refracted the evening
+rays, and formed nine lunar rainbows.</p>
+
+<p>The fairies were singing a roundelay; and,
+as the melody floated over the waters, Victor
+and Blanche listened with throbbing hearts.
+Fairy music has almost passed away from the
+earth; but those who hear it are strangely
+moved, and have dreams of beautiful things
+which have been, and may be again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It makes me think of the days of long
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg&nbsp;102]</a></span>
+ago when there was no sin,&rdquo; whispered
+Blanche.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It makes me long to be a hero,&rdquo; answered
+Victor with a sparkling eye.</p>
+
+<p>All the while the pearly boat was drifting
+toward the youth and maiden; and, when it
+had touched the shore, the queen stepped
+out upon the land as lightly as if she had
+been made entirely of dewdrops.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am Fontana,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;and is this
+Blanche?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She laid her soft hand upon the maiden&rsquo;s
+shoulder; and Blanche thought she
+would like to die then and there, so full was
+she of joy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have heard of thy good heart, my
+maiden: now what would please thee
+most?&rdquo; said the queen.</p>
+
+<p>Blanche bowed her head, and dared not
+speak.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg&nbsp;103]</a></span>
+Queen Fontana smiled: when she smiled
+it was as if a soft cloud had slid away from
+the moon, revealing a beautiful light.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Say pearls and diamonds,&rdquo; said Victor in
+her ear.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; whispered Blanche: &ldquo;they
+are not the best things.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the queen kindly: &ldquo;pearls and
+diamonds are <em>not</em> the best things.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Blanche knew that her whisper had
+been overheard, and she hid her face in
+her hands for shame. But the queen
+only smiled down on her, and, without speaking,
+dropped into the ground a little seed.
+Right at the feet of Blanche, it fell; and, in a
+moment, two green leaves shot upward, and
+between them a spotless lily, which hung its
+head with modest grace.</p>
+
+<p>Victor gazed at the perfect flower in wonder,
+and, before he knew it, said aloud, &ldquo;Ah,
+how like Blanche!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg&nbsp;104]</a></span>
+The queen herself broke it from the stem,
+and gave it to the maiden, saying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Take it! it is my choicest gift. Till it
+fades (which will never be), love will be
+thine; and, in time to come, it will have
+power to open the strongest locks, and swing
+back the heaviest doors.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;&lsquo;Gates of brass cannot withstand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One touch of this magic wand.&rsquo;&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Blanche looked up to thank the queen;
+but no words came,&mdash;only tears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I see a wish in thine eyes,&rdquo; said Fontana.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is for Victor,&rdquo; faltered Blanche, at
+last: &ldquo;he wishes to be rich and great.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The queen looked grave.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shall I make him one of the great men
+of the earth, little Blanche? Then he may
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg&nbsp;105]</a></span>
+one day go to the ends of the world, and forget
+thee.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Blanche only smiled, and Victor&rsquo;s cheek
+flushed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall be a great man,&rdquo; said he,&mdash;&ldquo;perhaps
+a prince; but, where I go, Blanche shall
+go: she will be my wife.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is well,&rdquo; said the queen: &ldquo;never
+forget Blanche, for her love will be your
+dearest blessing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then, removing from her girdle a pair of
+spectacles, she placed them in the youth&rsquo;s
+hand. He drew back in surprise. &ldquo;Does
+she take me for an old man?&rdquo; thought he.
+He had expected a casket of gems at least;
+perhaps a crown.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wait,&rdquo; said Fontana: &ldquo;they are the eyes
+of Wisdom. When you have learned their
+use, you will not despise my gift. Keep a
+pure heart, and always remember Blanche.
+And now farewell!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg&nbsp;106]</a></span>
+So saying, she moved on to the boat, floating
+over the ground as softly as a creeping
+mist.</p>
+
+<p>When Blanche awoke next morning, her
+first thought was, &ldquo;Happy are the maidens
+who have sweet dreams!&rdquo; for she thought
+she had only been wandering in a midsummer&rsquo;s
+night&rsquo;s dream; so, when she saw her lily
+in the broken pitcher where she had placed
+it, great was her delight. But a change had
+come over it during the night. It was no
+longer a common lily,&mdash;its petals were large
+pearls, and the green leaves were now green
+emeralds. This strange thing had happened
+to the flower, that it might never fade.</p>
+
+<p>After this, people looked at Blanche, and
+said, &ldquo;How is it? she grows fairer every
+day!&rdquo; and every one loved her; for the human
+heart has no choice but to love what is
+good and gentle.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg&nbsp;107]</a></span>
+As for Victor, he at first put on his spectacles
+with a scornful smile: but, when he had
+worn them a moment, he found them very
+wonderful things. When he looked through
+them, he could see people&rsquo;s thoughts written
+out on their faces; he could easily decipher
+the fine writing which you see traced on
+green leaves; and found there were long
+stories written on pebbles in little black and
+gray dots.</p>
+
+<p>When he wore the spectacles, he looked so
+wise, that Blanche hardly dared speak to him.
+She saw that one day he was to become a
+great man.</p>
+
+<p>At last Victor said he must leave his home,
+and sail across the seas. Tears filled the
+eyes of Blanche; but the youth whispered,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am going away to find a home for you
+and me: so adieu, dearest Blanche!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg&nbsp;108]</a></span>
+Now Victor thought the ship in which he
+sailed moved very slowly; for he longed to
+reach the land which he could see through
+his magic spectacles: it was a beautiful kingdom,
+rich with mines of gold and silver.</p>
+
+<p>When the ship touched shore, the streets
+were lined with people who walked to and
+fro with sad faces. The king&rsquo;s daughter, a
+beautiful young maiden, was very ill; and it
+was feared she must die.</p>
+
+<p>Victor asked one of the people if there
+was no hope.</p>
+
+<p>It so happened that this man was the
+greatest physician in the kingdom and he
+answered,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Alas, there is no hope!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Victor went to a distant forest where
+he knew a healing spring was to be found.
+Very few remembered it was there; and
+those who had seen it did not know of its
+power to heal disease.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg&nbsp;109]</a></span>
+Victor filled a crystal goblet with the precious
+water, and carried it to the palace.
+The old king shook his head sadly, but consented
+to let the attendants moisten the
+parched lips of the princess with the water,
+as it could do no harm. Far from doing
+harm, it wrought a great good; and, in time,
+the royal maiden was restored to health.</p>
+
+<p>Then, for gratitude, the king would have
+given his daughter to Victor for a wife; but
+Victor remembered Blanche, and knew that
+no other maiden must be bride of his.</p>
+
+<p>Not long after this, the king was lost overboard
+at sea during a storm. Now the people
+must have a new ruler. They determined
+to choose a wise and brave man; and,
+young as he was, no man could be found
+braver and wiser than Victor: so the people
+elected him for their king. Thus Fontana&rsquo;s
+gift of the eyes of Wisdom had made him
+truly &ldquo;one of the great men of earth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg&nbsp;110]</a></span>
+In her humble home, Blanche dreamed
+every night of Victor, and hoped he would
+grow good, if he did not become great; and
+Victor remembered Blanche, and knew that
+her love was his dearest blessing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This old palace,&rdquo; thought he, &ldquo;will never
+do for my beautiful bride.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So he called together his people, and told
+them he must have a castle of gems. Some
+of the walls were to be of rubies, some of
+emeralds, some of pearls. There was to be
+any amount of beaten gold for doors and
+pillars; and the ceilings were to be of milk-white
+opals, with a rosy light which comes
+and goes.</p>
+
+<p>All was done as he desired; and, when the
+castle of gems was finished, it would need a
+pen of jasponyx dipped in rainbows to describe
+it.</p>
+
+<p>Victor thought he would not have a guard
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg&nbsp;111]</a></span>
+of soldiers for his castle, but would lock the
+four golden gates with a magic key, so that
+no one could enter unless the gates should
+swing back of their own accord.</p>
+
+<p>When the castle of gems was just completed,
+and not a soul was in it, Victor locked
+the gates with a magic key, and then dropped
+the key into the ocean.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; thought he, &ldquo;I have done a wise
+thing. None but the good and true can enter
+my castle of gems. The gates will not swing
+open for men with base thoughts or proud
+hearts!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he hid himself under the shadow of
+a tree, and watched the people trying to
+enter. But they were proud men, and so the
+gates would not open.</p>
+
+<p>King Victor laughed, and said to himself,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have done a wise thing with my magic
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg&nbsp;112]</a></span>
+key. How safe I shall be in my castle of
+gems!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So he stepped out of his hiding-place, and
+said to the people,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;None but the good and true can get in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he tried to go in himself; but the
+gates would not move.</p>
+
+<p>The king bowed his head in shame, and
+walked back to his old palace.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Alas!&rdquo; said he to himself, &ldquo;wise and
+great as I am, I thought <em>I</em> could go in. I see
+it must be because I am filled with pride.
+Let me hide my face; for what would
+Blanche say if she knew, that, because my
+heart is proud, I am shut out of my own castle?
+I am not worthy that she should love
+me; but I hope I shall learn of her to be
+humble and good.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The next day he sailed for the home of his
+childhood. When Blanche saw him, she
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg&nbsp;113]</a></span>
+blushed, and cast down her eyes; but Victor
+knew they were full of tears of joy. He
+held her hand, and whispered,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you go with me and be my bride,
+beautiful Blanche?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will go with you,&rdquo; she answered softly;
+and Victor&rsquo;s heart rejoiced.</p>
+
+<p>All the while Blanche never dreamed that
+he was a great prince, and that the men who
+came with him were his courtiers.</p>
+
+<p>When they reached Victor&rsquo;s kingdom, and
+the people shouted &ldquo;Long live the queen!&rdquo;
+Blanche veiled her face, and trembled; for
+Victor whispered in her ear that the shouts
+were for her. And, as the people saw her
+beautiful face through her gossamer veil,
+they cried all the more loudly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Long live Queen Blanche! Thrice welcome,
+fair lady!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The sun was sinking in the west, and his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg&nbsp;114]</a></span>
+rays fell with dazzling splendor upon the castle
+of gems. When Blanche saw the silent,
+closed castle and its golden gates, she remembered
+the words of Queen Fontana, who
+had said that her lily should have power to
+&ldquo;open the strongest locks, and swing back
+the heaviest doors.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Like one walking in a dream, she led Victor
+toward the resplendent castle. She
+touched, with her lily, the lock which fastened
+one of the gates.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Gates of gold could not withstand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One touch of that magic wand.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>In an instant, the hinges trembled; and the
+massive door swung open so far, that forty
+people could walk in side by side. Then it
+slowly closed, and locked itself without
+noise.</p>
+
+<p>One of the people who passed in was the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg&nbsp;115]</a></span>
+king, whose heart was no longer proud. The
+others, who had entered unwittingly, could
+not speak for wonder. Some of them were
+poor, and some were lame or blind; but all
+were good and true.</p>
+
+<p>At the rising of the moon a wonderful
+thing came to pass. The people entered the
+castle of gems, and became beautiful. This
+was through the power of the magic lily.</p>
+
+<p>Now there were no more crooked backs
+and lame feet and sightless eyes; and the
+king looked at these people, who were beautiful
+as well as good, and declared he would
+have them live in the castle; and the gentlemen
+should be knights; and the ladies,
+maids of honor.</p>
+
+<p>To this day Victor and Blanche rule the
+kingdom; and such is the charm of the lily,&mdash;so
+like the pure heart of the queen,&mdash;that
+the people are becoming gentle and good.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg&nbsp;116]</a></span>
+Until Queen Fontana shall call for the
+magic spectacles and the lily of pearl, it is
+believed that Victor and Blanche will live in
+the castle of gems, though the time should be
+a hundred years.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg&nbsp;117]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE ELF OF LIGHT.</h2>
+
+<h3>A NORSE TALE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>In the strange island of Iceland, thrown
+up, by fire, from the depths of the sea, there
+once lived a lad who worshipped the god
+Odin, and was taught from two absurd books
+called the Eddas. He wished to fight and
+die on a battle-field, so that his soul might
+cross a rainbow-bridge, and dwell in the
+beautiful halls of Valhalla. There&mdash;so the
+Eddas say&mdash;are the chosen heroes, who are
+forever fighting all day, and feasting all
+night.</p>
+
+<p>Thus, instead of a Bible, young Thule
+studied wild fairy-tales; yet, for all his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg&nbsp;118]</a></span>
+heathenish training, he had some noble traits,
+which a Christian lad might imitate.</p>
+
+<p>He lived with his widowed mother at the
+edge of a forest. The snow piled itself in
+drifts, and the wind howled through the
+trees, and crept in at the windows; for the
+cottage was old, and a blind hurricane might
+almost have mistaken it for a heap of brushwood.
+But Thule was quite as happy as if
+the hut had been a palace. He loved the
+winter-beauty of his mother&rsquo;s face, and the
+silvery hair half hidden under her black
+cap. All the fire they burned was made
+of the dry sticks he gathered in the forest,
+and more than half the money they used
+was earned by his small hands.</p>
+
+<p>In one of the ice-months of the year, when
+the weather was sharper than a serpent&rsquo;s
+tooth, Thule came home from a hard day&rsquo;s
+work; and, the chillier he grew, the more he
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg&nbsp;119]</a></span>
+whistled to keep up a brave heart. Looking
+at the horizon before him, he saw the cold
+glare which we call Northern Lights, but
+which he knew to be the flickering of helmets
+and shields and spears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The warlike maidens are out to-night,&rdquo;
+thought the boy: &ldquo;they are going to the battle-fields
+to decide who is worthy to be slain.
+How I love to see the sky lighted up with
+the flash of their armor! Odin, grant I may
+one day be a hero, and walk over the bridge
+of a rainbow!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Thule went to his whistling again;
+but, just as he struck into the forest where
+the deep shadows lay, he heard a faint moan,
+which sounded like a human voice, or might
+have been a sudden gust of wind in a hollow
+tree.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perchance it is some poor creature even
+colder than I,&rdquo; thought the boy: &ldquo;I hope not
+a <em>troll</em>!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg&nbsp;120]</a></span>
+Hurrying to the spot whence the sound
+came, he found an ugly, long-nosed dwarf lying
+on the ground, nearly perishing with
+cold. It was growing late, and the boy himself
+was benumbed; but he went briskly to
+work, chafing the hands and face of the
+stranger, even taking off his own blue jacket
+to wrap it about the dwarf&rsquo;s neck.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor old soul, you shall not die of cold!&rdquo;
+said he; then, helping him to rise, he added
+cheerily, &ldquo;We will go to my mother&rsquo;s cottage,
+and have a warm supper of oat-cakes
+and herrings; and our fire of dry boughs will
+do you good.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The noble boy knew there was barely supper
+enough for two, but did not mind going
+hungry to bed for charity&rsquo;s sake. In the ear
+of his heart, he heard the words of his
+mother:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never fear starving, my son, but freely
+share your last loaf with the needy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg&nbsp;121]</a></span>
+They walked through the forest, the old
+man leaning heavily on the youth&rsquo;s shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why should you befriend a poor wretch
+who cannot repay you?&rdquo; whined the dwarf
+in a hollow voice which startled Thule, it was
+so like the echo sent back by a mountain or a
+rock.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not ask or wish to be repaid,&rdquo; was
+the reply. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you know what the proverb
+says? &lsquo;Do good, and throw it into the
+sea; if the fishes don&rsquo;t know it, <em>Odin</em> will!&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes: Odin shall know it, never fear,&rdquo; answered
+the dwarf; &ldquo;but, as I happen to be
+informed that your tea-table is not quite large
+enough for three, I think I will decline your
+invitation to supper. Really, my lad,&rdquo; he
+continued, &ldquo;it would delight me to do you a
+little favor; for, though I am only a poor
+dwarf, I know how to be grateful. By the
+way, have you seen such a thing hereabouts
+as a green alder-tree?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg&nbsp;122]</a></span>
+&ldquo;A green alder-tree in winter-time!&rdquo; cried
+Thule.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A curious thing, indeed,&rdquo; said the dwarf;
+&ldquo;but I chanced to see one the other night in
+my rambles. Ah! look, here it is right before
+your eyes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>All the other forest-trees were dry and
+hard, their hearts frozen within them; but
+this tree was alive, hidden behind a clump of
+firs. When Thule began to dig about its
+roots, it seemed to come out of the ground
+of its own free will, and to lie over his shoulders
+as if it would caress him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Take home the little tree, and plant it before
+your door, my lad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The youth turned to thank the stranger;
+but he had vanished. Then Thule ran home
+with all speed to tell his mother of the little
+old man who had faded from his sight like a
+wreath of smoke.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg&nbsp;123]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Now I wonder what it is you have seen,&rdquo;
+said the good woman, raising her hands in
+surprise. &ldquo;Was he brown, my son, with a
+long nose?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As brown as a nut, mother, with no end
+of nose.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Just as I supposed, my child! That
+dwarf is a wonderful creature,&mdash;one of the
+night-elves, a race gifted with great understanding.
+Know, my son, that he carves
+runes upon stones; and he no doubt assisted
+in making Thor&rsquo;s hammer, that terrible instrument
+which can crush the skull of a
+giant.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;One thing I observed,&rdquo; said the boy: &ldquo;he
+blinked at that flashing in the sky, which people
+call Northern Lights; he had to shade his
+eyes with his funny little hand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did he, indeed? Poor Elf! Light is painful
+to his race; and I have even heard that
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg&nbsp;124]</a></span>
+a stroke of sunshine is able to turn them into
+stones. I am almost afraid of this little tree,&rdquo;
+added the good mother musingly. &ldquo;You
+know what we read in the holy Eddas: Both
+the alder and the ash trees should be held sacred;
+for Odin formed man from the ash, and
+woman from the alder. Nevertheless, the
+night-elf could not have meant to do you a
+mischief. Let us plant the tree as he directed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What, in the frozen ground, under the
+snow?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But it now, for the first time, appeared that
+there was a spot of earth near the south
+window, which must have been waiting for
+the tree, since it was as soft and warm as if
+the sun had been shining on it all the year.
+Here they planted the alder; and Thule
+brought water, and moistened the roots.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning the tree seemed to have
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg&nbsp;125]</a></span>
+grown a foot higher; and by daylight its
+leaves showed a silver lining.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May Odin favor my pretty alder!&rdquo; said
+Thule; &ldquo;nor let the frost pinch it, nor the
+winds blacken its green buds!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Thule went into the woods again; and, as
+he was whistling at his work, he happened to
+look down, and there, on the ground, at his
+feet, lay a purse, well lined with gold. He
+counted the pieces: fifty, all bright and new.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will go to the town,&rdquo; thought the boy,
+shaking his head and sighing (for the gold
+was very tempting), &ldquo;I will go to the town,
+and ask who has lost a purse with fifty pieces
+of precious gold. Ah, me! I wish I could
+keep it! then we should swim in herrings
+and oil; and who knows but, for once in my
+life, I might even get a taste of venison?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But next moment he loosened his greedy
+clutch at the purse. &ldquo;No matter how bravely
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg&nbsp;126]</a></span>
+it shines! it is not <em>my</em> gold; and it is too
+heavy for me to carry. Stolen money is
+worse than a mill-stone about one&rsquo;s neck, so
+my mother says.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Keep the purse, little boy,&rdquo; said a sweet
+voice close by his elbow. He turned, and
+saw a beautiful child, as radiant as a sunbeam,
+and clad in garments of delicate and
+transparent texture.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will be your friend, little boy. That
+purse was dropped by a lady who wears a fur
+cloak and long veil. If she asks for her
+treasure, I can say it fell into a hole in the
+ground. Everybody believes me: never
+fear!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor misguided angel!&rdquo; said the boy,
+amazed by her wondrous beauty no less than
+by her apparent want of truth. &ldquo;You are,
+indeed, a lovely little tempter; but I have a
+dear mother at home, and I love her better
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg&nbsp;127]</a></span>
+than a million pieces of gold. I must go to
+the town, and seek out this lady you mention,
+who wears a fur cloak and long veil.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, if you will be so stupid,&rdquo; said the
+shining child, &ldquo;why, I will even go with you,
+and show you the way.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So, gliding gracefully before the bewildered
+youth, she led him out of the forest, into
+the most crowded part of the city, up to
+the door of a splendid mansion; but, when
+Thule turned his head only an instant, she
+was gone, and no trace of her was to be
+seen: she seemed to have melted into sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>The lady of the house received the purse
+with thanks, and would gladly have given
+Thule a piece of the gold; but, much as the
+boy longed for it, he put it aside, saying,
+&ldquo;No, madam: my mother assures me I must
+be honest without the hope of reward. She
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg&nbsp;128]</a></span>
+would not like me to take wages for not being
+a thief!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The next morning the alder-tree had grown
+another foot; and Thule and his mother
+watched the growing leaves, and touched
+them with reverent fingers. They were certainly
+of a tender green, lined with shining
+silver.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May Odin favor my pretty alder!&rdquo; said
+Thule; &ldquo;nor let the frost pinch it, nor the
+winds blacken its green buds!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Thule kissed his mother, and trudged
+off to the forest as usual. But he seemed
+doomed to adventures; for this time he was
+met by three armed men, who were roaming
+the country as if seeking something.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Prithee, little urchin,&rdquo; said one of the
+men, &ldquo;can you tell us what has become of a
+young alder-tree, whose green leaves are
+lined with silver?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg&nbsp;129]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I dug up an alder-bush, kind sirs,&rdquo; replied
+the boy, trembling, and remembering
+that his mother had said she was almost
+afraid of that little tree.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There are many alder-bushes,&rdquo; said another
+of the men gruffly; &ldquo;but only one is
+green at this time of year, and has silver-lined
+leaves. It was placed here by command
+of the giant Loki, and no one was to
+touch it under pain of death; for, when his
+mountain-garden should be laid out in the
+spring, the tree was to be uprooted, and
+planted therein.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Thule grew almost as stiff and white as if
+a frost-giant had suddenly breathed on him.
+He knew that Loki was a pitiless god, feared
+by all, and beloved by none,&mdash;a god who
+had an especial grudge against the whole human
+race.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will hold my peace,&rdquo; thought Thule.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg&nbsp;130]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I will never confess that the tree I carried
+away has silver-lined leaves. I will hasten
+home, pluck up the bush, and burn it: then
+who will be the wiser?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But Thule, in spite of his trembling, could
+not forget his good mother&rsquo;s counsel:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your words, my boy, let them be truth,
+and nothing but truth, though a sword should
+be swinging over your head.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then, as soon as his voice returned to him,
+he confessed that the tree he had removed
+was really just such an one as the men described,
+and begged for mercy, because, as
+he said, he had committed the sin ignorantly,
+not knowing the mandate of the terrible
+giant.</p>
+
+<p>But the men bade Thule lead them to his
+mother&rsquo;s house, and point out his stolen treasure;
+declaring that they could show no mercy;
+for, when Loki had made a decree, no
+man should alter it by one jot or one tittle.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg&nbsp;131]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; thought the unfortunate boy, wringing
+his hands, and trembling till the woollen
+tassel on his cap danced a gallopade, &ldquo;oh, if
+the cruel night-elf, who led me into this mischief,
+would only come forward now, and help
+me out of it! But, alas, it is of no avail to
+invoke him; for it is now broad daylight,
+and the sun would strike him into a stone image
+in a twinkling.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When Thule, followed by the messengers
+of Loki, had reached the door of his cottage,
+he found his gray-haired mother sprinkling
+the roots of the beautiful alder, and fondling
+its leaves with innocent pleasure. At sight
+of the armed men, she started back in affright.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is indeed the giant&rsquo;s tree,&rdquo; said the
+men to Thule. &ldquo;Pluck it up, and follow us
+with it to Loki&rsquo;s castle on the mountain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To Loki&rsquo;s castle!&rdquo; shrieked the wretched
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg&nbsp;132]</a></span>
+mother. &ldquo;Then he must pass a frightful wilderness,
+be assailed by the frost-giants; and,
+if there be any breath left in him, Loki will
+dash it out at a glance! Have mercy on a
+poor old mother, O good soldiers!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The unhappy boy touched the tree, and it
+came out of the ground of its own free will;
+and, in a trice, stood on its feet, shook out its
+branches into arms, and in another moment
+was no longer a tree, but a child, with a
+beauty as dazzling as sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Unfortunate men!&rdquo; said she, in a voice
+whose angriest tones were sweeter than the
+music of an &AElig;olian harp, &ldquo;unfortunate are
+you in being the servants of Loki! Go, tell
+your cruel master that the schemes he has
+plotted against me and mine have all failed:
+my enchantment is over forever. Yonder
+boy,&rdquo; said she, pointing to little Thule, &ldquo;has
+saved me. I was, and still remain, an elf of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg&nbsp;133]</a></span>
+light, as playful and harmless as sunshine.
+The merciless Loki, enraged at the love I
+bear the children of men, changed me to a
+little alder-tree, which is the emblem of girlhood.
+But he had no power to keep me in
+that form forever. He was obliged to make
+a condition, and he made the hardest one that
+his artful mind could invent: &lsquo;Since you love
+mortals so dearly,&rsquo; said he, &lsquo;no one but a mortal
+shall free you from your imprisonment.
+You shall remain a tree till a good child shall
+touch you,&mdash;a child who is generous enough
+to <small>SHARE HIS LAST LOAF WITH A STRANGER</small>,
+honest enough to <small>GIVE BACK A REWARD FOR
+HIS HONESTY</small>, brave enough to <small>SPEAK THE
+TRUTH WHEN A LIE WOULD HAVE SAVED HIS
+LIFE</small>. Long shall you wait for such a deliverer!&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now how amazed will Loki be when
+he learns that this little boy has been
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg&nbsp;134]</a></span>
+tempted in all these particulars, yet proves
+true. My poor soldiers, you may return
+whence you came, for the alder-tree will
+never rustle its silver leaves in the mountain-garden
+of Loki.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then the men disappeared, not sorry that
+the good boy had escaped his threatened
+doom.</p>
+
+<p>Thule, looking at the beautiful elf so lately
+a tree, could hardly trust his own eyes; and
+I fancy that many a boy, even at the present
+day, would have felt rather bewildered under
+the circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shining child!&rdquo; said he: &ldquo;you look vastly
+like the wonderful little being who led me
+out of the forest yesterday.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That may well be,&rdquo; replied the elf of
+light; &ldquo;for she is my sister. The brown
+dwarf who pointed out to you the alder-tree
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg&nbsp;135]</a></span>
+is also an excellent friend of mine, though,
+strange to say, I have never seen him. We
+love to aid each other in all possible ways;
+yet we can never meet, for there is a fatality
+in my eyes which would strike him dead.
+He had heard of Thule, the little woodcutter
+who was called so brave and generous and
+true. He tried you, you see; and so did my
+frolicsome sister, who was fairly ablaze with
+delight when she found you could not be
+tempted to steal!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Thule&rsquo;s mother had stood all the while on
+the threshold, overawed and dumb. Now
+she came forward, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am prouder to-day than I should be if
+my son had slain ten men on the battle-field!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The beautiful elf of light, penetrated with
+gratitude and admiration, remained Thule&rsquo;s
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg&nbsp;136]</a></span>
+fast friend as long as he lived. She gave
+the lad and his mother an excellent home,
+and made them happy all the days of their
+lives.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg&nbsp;137]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE PRINCESS HILDA.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Princess Hildegarde sat at an open window,
+looking out upon her garden of flowers.
+She was very beautiful, with a face as fair
+and sweet as a rose. Not far off sat, watching
+her, her young cousin Zora, with a frown on
+her brow.</p>
+
+<p>There was bitter hatred in Zora&rsquo;s heart because
+Hildegarde was rich and she was poor;
+because Hildegarde would, in time, be a
+queen, and she one of her subjects. Moreover,
+Hildegarde was so beautiful and good
+that the fame of her loveliness had spread far
+and wide; and it was for her beauty that
+Zora hated her more than for any thing else.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg&nbsp;138]</a></span>
+In childhood Zora had been very fair; and
+the courtiers had petted her, and pronounced
+her even fairer than the princess; but her
+beauty had never meant any thing but bright
+eyes and cherry cheeks: so it could not last.
+If she had only cherished pure thoughts and
+kind wishes, she might still have been as
+lovely as Hilda; but who does not know that
+evil feelings write themselves on the face?</p>
+
+<p>Jealousy had pulled her mouth down at
+the corners; deceit had given it a foolish
+smirk; spite had plowed an ugly frown in
+her brow; while she had tried so many arts
+to make her rich brown skin as delicately
+white as Hilda&rsquo;s, that it was changed to the
+tint of chrome yellow.</p>
+
+<p>It was said in those days, that Zora was in
+the power of wicked fairies, who twisted her
+features into the shape that pleased them
+best.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg&nbsp;139]</a></span>
+At any rate, how the amiable Princess
+Hilda was to blame for all these deformities
+it would be hard to say; and she little
+dreamed of the malice in her cousin&rsquo;s heart.</p>
+
+<p>But, while Hilda was looking out of the
+window, a noble knight passed that way; and
+so delighted was he with the rare sweetness
+of her face, that he forgot himself, and
+paused a moment to gaze at her. The princess
+blushed, and let fall the silken curtain;
+but Zora had seen the knight, and knew he
+was the royal Prince Reginald. She ground
+her teeth in rage; for she had determined
+that the prince should never see her beautiful
+cousin.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They shall not meet,&rdquo; said she to herself:
+&ldquo;no, not if there are bad fairies enough to
+prevent it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But, when the princess looked up, Zora
+was smiling very sweetly. Who could have
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg&nbsp;140]</a></span>
+dreamed that she was thinking of nothing
+but how to ruin the peace of her gentle
+cousin?</p>
+
+<p>Zora could hardly wait for nightfall, so
+eager was she to do her wicked work. When
+it was dark, and all was quiet, she stole out
+of the castle, wearing a black mantle which
+hid her face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; thought she, &ldquo;no one can recognize
+me, and I will seek the fairy Gerula.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>You must know that Gerula was one of
+the most wicked and hideous sprites that
+ever existed. She dwelt in a cave far from
+the abodes of men. It was hidden by huge
+trees through which the wind never ceased
+howling. At evening owls hooted overhead,
+and many creeping things wound their
+length along the ground. The more toads
+and snakes she could see about her, the better
+was she pleased; for fairies, as well as
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg&nbsp;141]</a></span>
+mortals, are attracted by what is akin to
+themselves.</p>
+
+<p>She was descended from a race called kobolds
+or goblins; and she loved all the metals
+which lie under the earth as well as the living
+things which crawl up out of its bosom.</p>
+
+<p>So acute were her ears, that she heard
+Zora&rsquo;s steps from a great distance. She
+brushed back her elf-locks, and gave a low
+grunt like some wild beast. It pleased her
+that the Lady Zora should find need of her
+counsel; but, when Zora had reached the
+cave, the cunning fairy pretended to be sleeping,
+and started up in seeming surprise.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What brings a body here at this time of
+night?&rdquo; said she.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am Lady Zora. I have come, sweet
+fairy, to beg a favor. The Princess Hilda is
+hateful to me: work one of your charms on
+her, and let me see her face no more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg&nbsp;142]</a></span>
+The old fairy pricked up her ears and said
+to herself, &ldquo;Ha! ha! I will have nice sport
+out o&rsquo; this!&rdquo; then said aloud, &ldquo;Say, what
+harm has the princess done to my rosebud,
+my lily, my pride?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Zora&rsquo;s eyes flashed. &ldquo;Prince Reginald has
+seen her; and to see her is to love her. My
+heart is set on wedding Prince Reginald.
+Take her out of his way!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Just then a broad gleam of moonlight fell
+on the treacherous maiden. It was strange
+how much she looked like the cruel fairy;
+and Gerula gazed on her with delight.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My beautiful viper!&rdquo; said she, using the
+sweetest pet-name she could think of, &ldquo;I will
+do your bidding. But first say what you will
+give me if I put Hildegarde out of your
+way.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then she chuckled, and rubbed her hands
+in great glee. Zora started back in alarm.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg&nbsp;143]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I did not know you sold your charms for
+gold; but I would give you half my fortune
+if need be, any thing, to be rid of Hilda.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The fairy chuckled again. &ldquo;Just the damsel
+for me,&rdquo; thought she.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will give you a diamond necklace,&rdquo; said
+Zora: &ldquo;it is worth a small kingdom, and was
+given me by my cousin Hilda. You can
+surely ask no more?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Diamonds!&rdquo; said the goblin, snapping
+her fingers. &ldquo;What think you I care for
+them? Do I not tire of stooping to pick
+them up? for they are given me by my
+cousins, the gnomes, any day. No diamonds
+for me! Keep them and your gold. I ask
+but one thing, my dear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Here she spoke in low hissing tones, more
+terrible than her loudest croakings.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Promise me, if you do not marry Prince
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg&nbsp;144]</a></span>
+Reginald, you will let me change you into a
+charming green snake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Alas!&rdquo; cried Zora, turning pale, &ldquo;who
+ever heard of such a cruel request?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Cruel, am I?&rdquo; said the goblin in delight.
+&ldquo;Oh, I must seem cruel to one who is so
+gentle and lovely as Hilda!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Alas,&rdquo; cried Zora, &ldquo;I may fail to win
+Prince Reginald.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All the better,&rdquo; chuckled the fairy.
+&ldquo;When you become a snake, you and I shall
+enjoy each other&rsquo;s society, I assure you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Zora shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But it&rsquo;s all one to me,&rdquo; added the goblin,
+beginning to yawn. &ldquo;On the whole, I think
+you may as well go home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Zora wrung her hands, and groaned.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the gnome: &ldquo;go back to the
+castle. Ugh! I would sooner trust one of
+my winking owls to do a daring deed than
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg&nbsp;145]</a></span>
+you! Fie upon you! Creep back to your
+bed, and let Hilda marry the prince: a
+lovely pair they will make. Off with you,
+for I have to make up my sleep I have
+lost.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But Zora was thinking.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am silly indeed!&rdquo; she said to herself.
+&ldquo;Why do I fear that I shall not win the love
+of Prince Reginald? Only Hilda stands in
+my way.&rdquo; Then she said aloud,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lovely being! sweetest of all the race!
+Great as is my horror, I will consent to your
+will.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Just then was heard a crackling in the dry
+leaves.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Only a snake,&rdquo; said the goblin. Zora
+trembled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you promise me that Hilda will
+never trouble me again?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I promise,&rdquo; said the goblin, with one of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg&nbsp;146]</a></span>
+her merriest laughs, as loud and hoarse as
+the song of a frog.</p>
+
+<p>Just then a sigh was heard not far from the
+place where Zora stood. &ldquo;There is some
+one here: we are watched,&rdquo; she whispered.
+But Gerula thought it the howling of the
+wind; for she was busily musing over the
+charm she was about to obtain of her cousins,
+the gnomes, and her eyes and ears were not
+as sharp as usual.</p>
+
+<p>She took from the ground her crooked staff.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hush,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;if the sky were to fall
+on your head, you are not to speak; for now
+begins the charm.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then she drew a circle three times on the
+ground, with her staff, and said in low tones,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Hither, ye cousins, that come at my call:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The princess is young and fair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mix me a charm that shall bring her to woe<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Spin me your vilest snare.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg&nbsp;147]</a></span>
+A mist arose, in which Zora could see dim
+figures, one after another. Zora held her
+breath. Gerula muttered again in low
+tones,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Hilda is gentle, and dreams of no guile;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The little gnomes sit and weep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&lsquo;Make her,&mdash;if <em>must</em> be,&mdash;a snowy wee lamb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the fold with her father&rsquo;s sheep.&rsquo;&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Zora clapped her hands in delight. But
+just then, a faint sound was heard, as of some
+one talking between the teeth. Then Zora
+spoke, and the charm was broken. She did
+not intend to speak; but asked, &ldquo;What noise
+was that?&rdquo; before she thought.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have broken the charm,&rdquo; said the
+fairy. &ldquo;The soft-hearted gnomes are unwilling
+to punish Hilda; but I hoped, by my
+craft, I could force them to keep her a lamb
+forever; or, at most, to let her grow to a
+sheep, and die by the knife.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg&nbsp;148]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I will now weave a new charm; but I
+fear me they will repent; and Hilda will
+not be got out of the way, after all. Not
+a word more, I warn you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So saying, the goblin made another circle
+three times, on the ground, and again muttered,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;How long is fair Hilda a snowy wee lamb?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The little gnomes cry, &lsquo;We fear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till comes a brave lion so tender and true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She lives by his side a year.&rsquo;&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Zora clapped her hands again. &ldquo;That is
+well,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;for never was a lion seen
+who could let a little helpless lamb pass his
+way without tearing it in pieces.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;True,&rdquo; said the gnome, well pleased, &ldquo;it
+has worked well. Hilda will never trouble
+you again: so creep home softly, and go to
+your rest: dream of bats and creeping
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg&nbsp;149]</a></span>
+snakes; and to-morrow, at sunrise, ask your
+cousin to walk with you in the park. Now
+adieu!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Adieu, sweetest and best of fairies!&rdquo; said
+Zora, drawing her silken mantle closely about
+her face. As she left the hideous cave,
+snakes hissed after her, and a bat flew in her
+face; but she had sold herself to evil, and
+walked on without fear of the creatures she
+so strongly resembled.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning, at the first peep of the sun,
+she cried, &ldquo;Awake, dearest Hilda, joy of my
+life, and walk with me in the park. I have
+lost my diamond necklace; and last night I
+dreamed it was lying in the grass.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So Princess Hildegarde opened her eyes,
+and hastened to follow her cousin; for her
+heart was quickly moved to any act of kindness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a fine flock of sheep!&rdquo; cried Hilda,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg&nbsp;150]</a></span>
+as they were walking in the park. &ldquo;Such
+innocent&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>She would have said more, but the words
+on her tongue were suddenly changed to tender
+bleatings; and even as Zora stood looking
+at her, she crouched down on all fours,
+dwindled in size, was enveloped in white
+fleece, and became a dumb lamb.</p>
+
+<p>Overwhelmed with horror and surprise,
+she raised her pleading, tearful eyes to the
+face of her cousin. But Zora gave a mocking
+laugh, and said, pointing her finger at
+her,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who now is the heir of the throne? Will
+they set the royal crown on a sheep&rsquo;s head,
+think you? Bravo, sweet creature! You
+may stand now between me and Prince Reginald
+as much as you please. It&rsquo;s all my
+work. I tell you once for all, I hate you, Hildegarde.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg&nbsp;151]</a></span>
+Was this Zora&rsquo;s return for her cousin&rsquo;s
+love? The princess would fain have expressed
+her grief and amazement.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pray don&rsquo;t try to talk, my bonny wee
+thing! It is not one of your gifts, at present.
+Your voice has ceased to be musical.
+I can sing now as well as you. Go to nibbling
+grass, deary, and a long life to you!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then the treacherous Zora turned on her
+heel, and left her poor cousin to her mute
+despair.</p>
+
+<p>A search was made far and wide for the
+missing princess. Forests were hunted,
+rivers were dragged; but without avail.
+Deep gloom fell on the people, and the queen
+nearly died of sorrow. They all believed
+Hilda dead, all but Zora, who knew too well
+her cruel fate.</p>
+
+<p>Then Zora was treated like the king&rsquo;s
+daughter. Wherever she went, there were
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg&nbsp;152]</a></span>
+servants to follow her; yet none loved her, and
+behind her back they made wry faces, and
+said she looked like one who was tormented
+by evil fairies.</p>
+
+<p>But, alas for Zora, nothing more was seen
+of Prince Reginald. She watched the windows
+day after day, hoping to see him ride
+by on his coal-black steed; but he never
+came. Then she grew crosser than ever, and
+the frown on her brow ploughed deeper still.
+She dreamed every night of horrible goblins
+and slender green snakes.</p>
+
+<p>All the while, poor Hildegarde roamed
+about the park. The other lambs were content
+to nip the sweet grass, and frisk in the
+sun; but the princess remembered something
+better, for her soul did not sleep.</p>
+
+<p>The king himself, in his walks, was struck
+with the beauty of the lamb; its fleece was
+far softer, finer, and whiter than was common.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg&nbsp;153]</a></span>
+He said to his chief shepherd, &ldquo;Watch well
+yonder snow-white lamb, and give it particular
+care.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>For there was something in its soft dark
+eyes, as they were raised to his face, which
+stirred the king&rsquo;s heart, though he knew not
+why.</p>
+
+<p>One day the city was thrown into a great
+tumult. A lion had been seen in the thicket
+which bordered the park. The huntsmen,
+hearing of it, stole out privately to waylay
+him in a snare. He was caught alive by the
+king&rsquo;s favorite huntsman. It was agreed
+that such a fine lion had never been seen before;
+and the king ordered a strong iron
+cage for the beast, and made his favorite
+huntsman his keeper.</p>
+
+<p>Now the cage was in the midst of the
+park; and such was the terror of the sheep
+and deer, that none of them went near it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg&nbsp;154]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I will go,&rdquo; thought poor Hildegarde; &ldquo;let
+the lion tear me in pieces. Sooner would I
+perish, than live on, a poor wee lamb all my
+days.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So she went up to the cage, though with a
+faint heart; but the lion put his paw out of
+the bars, and stroked her face, as if he would
+bid her welcome. The keeper reported the
+fact with great surprise.</p>
+
+<p>It may be that the beautiful brown eyes of
+the lamb tamed the fierce spirit of the lion;
+for they were human eyes, full of Hildegarde&rsquo;s
+own soul. Be that as it may, the
+lamb went every day to the cage, till the lion
+learned to watch for her, and gave a low
+growl of joy when he saw her coming. At
+last the keeper ventured to drop her carefully
+into the cage. The lion was beside
+himself with joy; and, after that, the lamb
+was placed in the cage every morning, and
+only taken out at night.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg&nbsp;155]</a></span>
+Then the king invited all the noblemen into
+his park, to see the strange sight of a lion
+and a lamb living together in peace. And all
+the while Hildegarde loved her shaggy companion,
+and asked herself every day how it
+could be that a lion should have such speaking
+eyes and such a tender heart. But she
+almost believed that he was a human being,
+shut up, like herself, in a cruel disguise.</p>
+
+<p>At last, when a whole year had gone by,
+the time came for Hilda to be disenchanted;
+for the good little gnomes had declared that
+if she could live for a twelvemonth in peace
+with a lion, the charm would then be at an
+end.</p>
+
+<p>Hilda did not know this; but awoke at
+sunrise, and, going to drink, saw the image
+of her old self in the fountain; and faint
+voices repeated in chorus these lines:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg&nbsp;156]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Thrice welcome, sweet Hilda! the little gnomes say<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At sunrise their charms shall end;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So go to the lion, and open the cage;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The prince is your own true friend.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>This was so sudden and unexpected that
+the happy Hilda could hardly believe her
+senses. She gazed at her jewelled fingers;
+she touched her velvet robe. &ldquo;It is Hildegarde,&rdquo;
+said she dreamily; &ldquo;where has she
+stayed so long?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She went to the cage; and, finding the key
+hanging on the outside, would fain have freed
+the poor lion, but thought of the terror it
+would cause the sheep and deer, and dared
+not do it.</p>
+
+<p>She put her soft white arms within the
+bars, saying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have been a true friend to the little
+white lamb. She has found her tongue again,
+and can say so. Kind old lion, gentle prisoner,
+Hildegarde will not forget you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg&nbsp;157]</a></span>
+The noble beast looked at the disenchanted
+princess, and the next instant was changed
+to his true form; and, in place of a tawny
+lion, it was the brave Prince Reginald.
+Hilda blushed with joyful surprise, and
+would have taken down the key to unlock the
+cage, but the prince said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Loveliest Hildegarde, will you be my
+bride? Speak before you unlock the cage;
+for, if you say nay, Reginald must again become
+a dumb beast, and, as he has been for a
+year, so will he be for the rest of his days.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Hildegarde cast down her eyes, and answered,
+&ldquo;If so be the lion and the lamb
+could live side by side for a year, may not
+Reginald and Hilda dwell together in
+peace?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said the joyful Prince Reginald,
+&ldquo;I pray thee unlock the cage.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Now, as they walked together in the park,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg&nbsp;158]</a></span>
+the prince told Hildegarde that he had loved
+her for a twelvemonth and a day.</p>
+
+<p>He described Zora&rsquo;s visit to the cruel goblin.
+He said that he himself had overheard
+the two talking together, had ground his
+teeth, and sighed. Then the gnomes, seeing
+his grief, had come asking him if he would be
+changed for a year, and maybe for life, into a
+lion; and for Hildegarde&rsquo;s sake he had gladly
+consented.</p>
+
+<p>Hearing all these things, the grateful princess
+wept, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now I know that Prince Reginald is my
+own true friend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The prince led Hilda to the palace, and
+presented her to the king and queen. Great
+was the wonder, and loud the rejoicing
+throughout the land.</p>
+
+<p>The treacherous Zora was seen no more,
+but was changed into a slender green snake;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg&nbsp;159]</a></span>
+and the king said she deserved her fate;
+&ldquo;for, mark you,&rdquo; cried he, &ldquo;there is no crime
+worse than to play false to those whom we
+pretend to love.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But Prince Reginald and Hildegarde were
+married, and lived in peace all the rest of
+their lives.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg&nbsp;160]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>GOLDILOCKS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;A king lived long ago,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the morning of the world,&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>who had two children, Despard and Goldilocks.
+They were twin brother and sister,
+but no more alike than a queen-lily and a
+nightshade, a raven and a dove.</p>
+
+<p>Goldilocks was a bright young damsel,
+with hair like fine threads of gold, and a face
+so radiant that people questioned if the blood
+in her veins might not be liquid sunshine.
+Her eyes were as soft as violets; and her
+laugh was like the music of a spring robin.</p>
+
+<p>Despard, on the other hand, was as melancholy
+as an owl. His raven hair cast gloomy
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg&nbsp;161]</a></span>
+shadows, and his mournful eyes pierced you
+with a sudden sorrow. He was too low-spirited
+to chase butterflies, weave daisy-chains,
+and dance with Goldilocks among the
+flowers. He liked better to play at a mimic
+funeral, and deck himself as chief mourner,
+in a friar&rsquo;s robe with sable plumes. He
+could never understand why laughing Goldilocks
+should object to making believe die,
+and be buried in the large jewel-coffer, which
+stood for a tomb.</p>
+
+<p>He always said that, if he lived to be a
+man, he should grow all the more wretched,
+and creep over the earth like a great black
+cloud. When Despard spoke so hopelessly,
+Goldilocks paused in her song or her play,
+and stealthily brushed a rare tear from her
+eye. She was afraid her brother&rsquo;s words
+might prove true.</p>
+
+<p>These children lived in what is called the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg&nbsp;162]</a></span>
+Golden Age, when the rivers flowed with
+milk and wine, and yellow honey dripped
+from oak-trees. Their childhood would probably
+have lasted forever; but the Silver Age
+came on, and every thing was changed.
+Then, it was sometimes too warm, and sometimes
+too cold. People began to live in
+caves, and weave houses of twigs. The
+king, their father, died, and went, so it
+was said, to the &ldquo;Isles of the Blessed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The children were shipwrecked upon a foreign
+shore, all because of a sudden swell
+of the ocean. Here they were desolate and
+homesick. The strange people among whom
+they had fallen did not know they were the
+children of a king. No one was left to care
+for them but their old nurse, named Sibyl.</p>
+
+<p>This aged woman was growing lame, and
+her hair was gray; yet she loved the twins,
+and would spin all the day long, to buy black
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg&nbsp;163]</a></span>
+bread for them, and now and then a little
+choice fruit.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Alas,&rdquo; she sighed, &ldquo;alas, for the Golden
+Age, when the forests had never been
+robbed, when oxen were not called to draw
+the plough, and the beautiful earth laughed,
+and tossed up fruit and flowers without waiting
+to be asked!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The frocks that Sibyl made for Goldilocks
+were coarse; but on fair spring days she
+took from the chest a delicate, rosy robe, embroidered
+with gold, and smiled to see how it
+adorned the child.</p>
+
+<p>But as for Despard, she had no hope that
+he would ever look well in any thing. She
+would part Goldilocks&rsquo; wonderful hair, and
+say,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Old Sibyl knows who is her love; she
+knows who would be glad to give her pomegranates
+and grapes, when she is too old to
+spin, and too weak to sit up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg&nbsp;164]</a></span>
+Little Goldilocks would laughingly reply,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I know, too: when I am a woman I
+shall weave a net of my hair, and fish up all
+the gold that has sunk to the beds of the rivers.
+Then I know who will have a set of
+hard gold teeth, and a silver rocking-chair.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thou art lovely enough to be a goddess,
+little Goldilocks. And what wilt thou do
+with the rest of the gold?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Despard shall have all he can carry;
+for Despard is good, let people say what they
+may. And I will have a crown made for him,
+with diamonds set in it as plenty as plums in
+a pudding.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Listen, my children,&rdquo; said the old Sibyl,
+sadly: &ldquo;there will be no one to give me
+grapes and pomegranates when I am faint
+and weak. I can read by the stars that you
+are soon to go on a pilgrimage, and leave
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg&nbsp;165]</a></span>
+your old nurse behind. You may well weep,
+my good little boy: there is to be no rest for
+your feet till you have travelled over the
+whole world, from north to south.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Despard groaned aloud; but Goldilocks
+clapped her hands and laughed. &ldquo;Oh, let us
+start to-night,&rdquo; she cried.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When the sun-god has made twelve journeys
+in his winged boat,&rdquo; sighed Sibyl, &ldquo;and
+when the young moon has arisen out of the
+ocean, then you may go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And, at the appointed time, the faithful
+nurse, with many tears, prepared her foster-children
+for their long journey. She took
+from a worm-eaten coffer some family heirlooms,
+which had been lying since the days
+of the Golden Age, enveloped in rose-leaves
+and gold paper.</p>
+
+<p>She placed in the hand of Despard a dagger
+with a jewelled hilt, a quiver of poisoned
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg&nbsp;166]</a></span>
+arrows, and a glittering sword, with a blade
+sharper than a serpent&rsquo;s tooth.</p>
+
+<p>But to Goldilocks she gave a flask of
+smooth, fragrant oil, a vase of crystal-bright
+water, and a fan made of the feathers of the
+beautiful bird of Paradise.</p>
+
+<p>Kissing the little pilgrims, she said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;These gifts have been saved for you
+these many years: use them as an inward
+voice shall whisper you: I give you my blessing.
+The gods attend you! Farewell.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The children at first walked on sorrowfully;
+but soon the gay spirits of Goldilocks
+rebounded, and she waltzed hither and thither,
+like a morsel of thistle-down.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;See, brother,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;we almost fly!
+What a glorious thing it is to go on a pilgrimage!
+I am glad the beautiful Silver
+Age has come, and Jupiter has given us
+leave to take a peep at the world!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg&nbsp;167]</a></span>
+&ldquo;All very well for you to say,&rdquo; moaned
+Despard; &ldquo;you flit about as if you had
+wings on your feet; while, as for me, it is
+true I move with equal speed, but so painfully
+that I wonder my footprints are not
+stained with blood.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Soon the children observed, not far off,
+a party of youths rowing on the bosom of a
+lake. They sat in a rocking, unsteady little
+bark, but were in gay spirits, blowing bubbles,
+watching idle clouds, and throwing up
+empty shouts to be caught up and echoed by
+the hills.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish we had not seen these happy people,&rdquo;
+sighed Despard; &ldquo;for, if you can believe
+me, sister, I really feel as if I must pelt
+them with my arrows.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So saying, little Despard began to fire his
+poisonous darts at random.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, brother,&rdquo; cried Goldilocks, in alarm,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg&nbsp;168]</a></span>
+&ldquo;are you possessed by the furies? Take
+care how you aim, or you will surely do mischief.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Even as she spoke, several of the gay
+youths dropped to the bottom of the boat, apparently
+wounded. Their companions pushed
+for the shore; and Goldilocks almost flew, to
+pour into the red wounds her brother had
+made the smooth healing oil from her flask.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor dears,&rdquo; said she, pitying their pain,
+&ldquo;I have done my best; and, see! these ugly
+gashes are almost healed. I cannot promise
+you, though, that they will not leave scars.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The youths thanked the sweet girl, and assured
+her it was almost a pleasure to be
+wounded, if one might be nursed by such
+gentle hands as hers. But as for Despard, it
+was hardly strange that they should look
+upon the poor boy as a wicked little highwayman;
+or, at best, a saucy, careless fellow.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg&nbsp;169]</a></span>
+Some of the older youths, however, patted
+him on the shoulder, and said, &ldquo;For your
+sweet sister&rsquo;s sake we can even endure
+your pranks.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do not despise me,&rdquo; said the boy, sadly;
+&ldquo;for as I am moved, so must I do. Not for
+the whole world would I fire a poisonous
+arrow, if the mighty Jove did not compel
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As they walked on, Despard, against his
+will, flung into the air a quantity of winged
+torments, which he found stowed away in his
+wallet, such as gnats, wasps, and flies.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There, now,&rdquo; said sweet Goldilocks,
+ready to weep, &ldquo;why could you not look before
+you, and see those pretty children playing
+yonder in that fragrant meadow?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I saw them,&rdquo; said Despard; &ldquo;but what
+good did that do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O brother, I wish the Golden Age would
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg&nbsp;170]</a></span>
+come again, and then you would cease scattering
+mischief and trouble.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The little ones, suddenly stopped in their
+play by the army of insects, ran hither and
+thither over the meadow, screaming with
+pain. But Goldilocks appeared in the midst
+of them, with her shining hair, violet eyes,
+and laugh like the music of a spring robin.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come to me,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;let me kiss
+away the stings.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In a very short space the children were
+soothed, and had forgotten their trouble.
+Then they threw their little arms about Goldilocks&rsquo;
+neck, and begged her to stay and play
+with them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sweet children, it is my mission,&mdash;so the
+stars say,&mdash;to travel all over this world,
+from north to south. But, for all that, I will
+frolic with you till the sun sets.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will the sad boy come too?&rdquo; asked the
+children.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg&nbsp;171]</a></span>
+Goldilocks shook her bright curls. &ldquo;He
+is planting a garden,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;no need to
+ask him; he hears nothing while he is at
+play, and his games are as solemn as midnight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The children made believe that the beautiful
+Goldilocks, in her rose-colored dress, with
+her beaming hair and flying feet, was a great
+butterfly, which they were trying to catch.
+Now here, now there, the glowing butterfly
+flitted from flower to flower, leading her followers
+a merry chase. Every child thought
+to seize and hold her, for a kiss. She
+laughed; and the breezes danced with her
+hair, like&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Zephyr with Aurora playing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As he met her once a-Maying.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>But before any one had kissed or even
+touched her, she had disappeared, leaving
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg&nbsp;172]</a></span>
+the children gazing into the air, and seeking
+their late companion with tearful eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Goldilocks had only gone back to Despard,
+who was still planting flower-seeds.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a miserable game,&rdquo; said Goldilocks;
+&ldquo;it is worse than playing funeral!
+Who thought you could make flowers grow?
+Our old nurse said it was only Demeter, the
+goddess, who could do that. Here, now, you
+have called up a bristling crop of thistles
+and brambles? On my word, Despard, it is a
+pity!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, well, Goldilocks, see what you can
+make of them. I am doomed to work,
+though I don&rsquo;t wish it; and my work is
+always disagreeable, though I can&rsquo;t tell
+why!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Goldilocks knelt, and blew on the prickly
+plants with her sweet breath. By the nodding
+of the next breeze, they were changed
+to roses, violets, and hare-bells.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg&nbsp;173]</a></span>
+&ldquo;It is pleasant to see any thing smile,
+even a flower,&rdquo; said Goldilocks, laughing as
+she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; replied Despard, &ldquo;that this is a
+strange pilgrimage. I believe our very
+thoughts are alive. I wish I could stop
+thinking.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>By and by they came to a rude house,&mdash;as
+fine a one, though, as people in the Silver
+Age had yet learned how to build. Despard
+paused, and knocked gently. &ldquo;Why linger
+here?&rdquo; whispered his sister.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know not,&rdquo; sighed the boy, &ldquo;but so
+must I do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How now, little ones? you startled me
+so!&rdquo; cried a woman, opening the door by the
+width of a crack.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let us come in,&rdquo; said Despard, sorrowfully;
+&ldquo;we are two little wanderers; and our
+hairs are wet with night-dews.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg&nbsp;174]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Come in, then, little ones, and welcome;
+but never, at any one&rsquo;s door, knock so loud
+again,&rdquo; added the woman, pressing her hand
+against her heart.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I only tapped with the ends of my fingers,&rdquo;
+said the boy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said the woman, &ldquo;it was louder to
+me than thunder.&rdquo; Then, after she had set
+before them a supper of bread and milk, she
+rocked her baby, and sang to it a sweet cradle-song
+about mother Juno and high Olympus.</p>
+
+<p>The children lay down on beds of rushes;
+and Goldilocks, soothed by the lullaby, fell
+asleep; but soon awoke, and saw her brother
+leaning, on tiptoe, over the osier basket.
+The baby&rsquo;s face looked, in the moonlight,
+white and pinched; and its sick hands were
+pressed together like two withered rose-leaves.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let me kiss him,&rdquo; whispered Goldilocks
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg&nbsp;175]</a></span>
+smiling. But bitter tears rolled down Despard&rsquo;s
+cheeks. Drawing his little sword
+from its sheath, he pricked the baby&rsquo;s heart
+till one red drop, the life-drop, stained the
+steel. The sick baby ceased to breathe.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O Despard, what have you done?&rdquo; cried
+Goldilocks, seizing his arm.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know not,&rdquo; said the boy; &ldquo;but as my
+heart moves me, so must I do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Hearing voices, the mother awoke, and, as
+her habit was, turned at once to the cradle.
+The baby lay there beautiful and still; the
+pinched look gone, and its furrowed brow
+smoothed into a baby&rsquo;s smile. The mother
+wept bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, little stranger,&rdquo; said she, turning to
+Despard, &ldquo;I knew you when I let you in.
+Why did I open the door for you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor mother,&rdquo; said the boy sorrowfully,
+&ldquo;if you had not opened the door, I must have
+come in by the window.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg&nbsp;176]</a></span>
+But Goldilocks threw her soft arms about
+the woman&rsquo;s neck, and comforted her till it
+was morning, and the &ldquo;gilded car of day&rdquo;
+had risen from the ocean. The tears on her
+cheeks she dried with her fan, made of magical
+feathers.</p>
+
+<p>When the children set out again on their
+journey, the woman gave Goldilocks a loving
+kiss, and then embraced Despard, saying,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For the sake of your sweet sister, I love
+even you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor little brother,&rdquo; said Goldilocks when
+they had gone farther on their journey, &ldquo;you
+are as good as I; but how is it? you make
+people weep, while I must go with you to
+dry the tears you call forth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am a black cloud,&rdquo; groaned Despard,
+&ldquo;you a sunbeam.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I like to have a cloud to shine on,&rdquo;
+said loving little Goldilocks.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg&nbsp;177]</a></span>
+Footsore and weary, the little pilgrims
+travelled on; and, when they had gone from
+north to south, and back again, the Sibyl met
+them with tender kisses; and, when they
+were refreshed, bade them go forth again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;this world is always
+new, my dears. The people who are born to-day
+were not here yesterday; and every
+mortal must see the faces of my foster-children.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was now the Brazen Age, and Despard
+and Goldilocks had grown to be a youth and
+maiden; but still they travelled on. The
+Iron Age came; and Despard&rsquo;s raven hair
+was frosted; but Goldilocks&rsquo; curls never
+faded. Let her live as long as live she may,
+she can never grow old.</p>
+
+<p>Their pilgrimage is not over yet; nor will
+it be while the earth revolves about the sun.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg&nbsp;178]</a></span>
+The brother and sister come to every house;
+they knock at every door.</p>
+
+<p>To all the children who open their eyes
+upon the light, come Despard and Goldilocks,
+the bitter and the sweet of life, the twin angels
+of Happiness and Sorrow.</p>
+
+<p class="center padtop padbase">THE END.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="bbox">
+<p><b>Transcriber's Note</b></p>
+
+<p>Archaic and variable spelling is preserved as printed. Punctuation errors
+have been repaired. Hyphenation has been made consistent. Typographic errors
+(omitted letters) have been repaired.</p>
+
+<p>On page <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, seen has been amended to then&mdash;"One sees, now and then,
+stupid human beings, ..."</p>
+
+<p>On page <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, a reference to Hilda has been amended to Zora&mdash;"He described
+Zora&rsquo;s visit to the cruel goblin."</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Fairy Book, by Sophie May
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+</body>
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@@ -0,0 +1,3381 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Fairy Book, by Sophie May
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Fairy Book
+
+Author: Sophie May
+
+Release Date: November 24, 2008 [EBook #27321]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FAIRY BOOK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Sam W. and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+            LITTLE PRUDY SERIES.
+
+
+                 FAIRY BOOK.
+
+                     BY
+
+                 SOPHIE MAY.
+
+
+                  BOSTON:
+              LEE AND SHEPARD,
+  (SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON, & CO.)
+                   1866.
+
+
+
+
+  Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by
+                         LEE & SHEPARD,
+  In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District
+                       of Massachusetts.
+
+
+
+
+    [Illustration: CRISTOBAL. Page 32.]
+
+
+
+
+         THIS
+  BOOK OF FAIRY TALES
+     IS DEDICATED
+   TO LITTLE BESSIE.
+
+
+
+
+LITTLE PRUDY SERIES.
+
+BY SOPHIE MAY.
+
+
+    I.
+    LITTLE PRUDY.
+
+    II.
+    LITTLE PRUDY'S SISTER SUSY.
+
+    III.
+    LITTLE PRUDY'S CAPTAIN HORACE.
+
+    IV.
+    LITTLE PRUDY'S COUSIN GRACIE.
+
+    V.
+    LITTLE PRUDY'S STORY BOOK.
+
+    VI.
+    LITTLE PRUDY'S DOTTY DIMPLE.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                      PAGE
+    INTRODUCTION                         9
+
+    CRISTOBAL                           19
+
+    WILD ROBIN                          35
+
+    THE VESPER STAR                     53
+
+    THE WATER-KELPIE                    59
+
+    THE LOST SYLPHID                    74
+
+    THE CASTLE OF GEMS                 100
+
+    THE ELF OF LIGHT                   117
+
+    THE PRINCESS HILDA                 137
+
+    GOLDILOCKS                         160
+
+
+
+
+FAIRY BOOK.
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+While Prudy was in Indiana visiting the Cliffords, and in the midst of
+her trials with mosquitoes, she said one day,--
+
+"I wouldn't cry, Aunt 'Ria, only my heart's breaking. The very next
+person that ever dies, I wish they'd ask God to please stop sending
+these awful skeeters. I can't bear 'em any longer, now, certainly."
+
+There was a look of utter despair on Prudy's disfigured face. Bitter
+tears were trickling from the two white puff-balls which had been her
+eyes; her forehead and cheeks were of a flaming pink, broken into
+little snow-drifts full of stings: she looked as if she had just been
+rescued from an angry beehive. Altogether, her appearance was
+exceedingly droll; yet Grace would not allow herself to smile at her
+afflicted little cousin. "Strange," said she, "what makes our
+mosquitoes so impolite to strangers! It's a downright shame, isn't it,
+ma, to have little Prudy so imposed upon? If I could only amuse her,
+and make her forget it!"
+
+"Oh, mamma," Grace broke forth again suddenly, "I have an idea, a very
+brilliant idea! Please listen, and pay particular attention; for I
+shall speak _in a figure_, as Robin says. There's a certain small
+individual who is not to understand."
+
+"I wouldn't risk that style of talking," said Mrs. Clifford, smiling;
+"or, if you do, your figures of speech must be _very_ obscure,
+remember."
+
+"Well, ma," continued Grace with a significant glance at Prudy, "what
+I was going to say is this: We wish to treat certain young relatives
+of ours very kindly; don't we, now?--certain afflicted and abused
+young relatives, you know.
+
+"Now, I've thought of an entertainment. Ahem! Yesterday I entered a
+certain Englishman's house,"--here Grace pointed through the window
+towards Mr. Sherwood's cottage, lest her mother should, by chance,
+lose her meaning,--"I entered a certain Englishman's house just as the
+family were sitting down to the table,--_festal board_, I mean.
+
+"They were talking about mistle-toe boughs, and all sorts of old-country
+customs; and then they said what a funny time they had one Christmas,
+with the youngest, about the _mizzle_, as he called it: do you remember,
+ma? do you understand?"
+
+"You mean little Harvey? Oh, yes."
+
+"Pray do be careful, ma! Then Mr. Sherwood said to his--I mean, the _hat_
+said to the _bonnet_, that there were some wonderful--ahem--legends,
+about genii and sprites and--and so forth; not printed, but _written_,
+which the boy liked to hear when he was 'overgetting' the measles. A
+certain lady, not three inches from your chair, ma, was the one who wrote
+them; and now"--
+
+Prudy had turned about, and the only remnants of her face which looked
+at all natural--that is, the irises and pupils of her swollen
+eyes--were shining with curiosity.
+
+"There, now, what is it, Gracie? what is it you don't want me to
+hear?"
+
+Grace laughed. "Oh, nothing much, dear: never mind."
+
+"You oughtn't to say 'Never mind,'" pursued Prudy: "my mother tells me
+_always_ to mind."
+
+"I only mean it isn't any matter, Prudy."
+
+"Oh! do you? Then don't you care for my skeeter-bites? You always say,
+'Never mind!' I didn't know it wasn't _any matter_."
+
+"Now, ma," Grace went on, "I want to ask you where are those
+I-don't-know-what-to-call-'ems? And may I copy them, Cassy and I, into
+a book, for a certain afflicted relative?"
+
+"Yes, yes, on gold-edged paper!" cried Prudy, springing up from the
+sofa; "oh, do, do; I'll love you dearly if you will! Fairy stories are
+just as nice! What little Harvey Sherwood likes, _I_ like, and I've
+had the measles; _but_ I shouldn't think his father and mother'd wear
+their hat and bonnet to the dinner-table!"
+
+"Deary me!" laughed Grace; "how happened that little thing to mistrust
+what I meant?"
+
+"It would be strange if a child of her age, of ordinary abilities,
+should _not_ understand," remarked Mrs. Clifford, somewhat amused.
+"Next time you wish to ask me any thing confidentially, I advise you
+to choose a better opportunity."
+
+"When may she, Aunt 'Ria?" cried Prudy, entirely forgetting her
+troubles; "when may she write it, Aunt 'Ria, she and Cassy?"
+
+"A pretty piece of folly it would be, wouldn't it, dear, when you
+can't read a word of writing?"
+
+"But Susy can a little, auntie; and mother can a great deal: and I'll
+never tease 'em, only nights when I go to bed, and days when I don't
+feel well. Please, Aunt 'Ria."
+
+"Yes, ma, I know you can't refuse," said Grace.
+
+Mrs. Clifford hesitated. "The stories are yellow with age, Grace;
+they were written in my girlhood: and they are rather torn and
+disarranged, if I remember. Besides, my child, my flowing hand is
+difficult to read."
+
+"Oh, mamma, I think you write beautifully! splendidly!"
+
+"Another objection," continued Mrs. Clifford: "they are rather too old
+for Prudy, I should judge."
+
+"But I keep a-growing, Aunt 'Ria! Don't you s'pose I know what fairy
+stories mean? They don't mean any thing! You didn't feel afraid I'd
+believe 'em, did you? I wouldn't believe 'em, I _promise_ I wouldn't;
+just as true's I'm walking on this floor!"
+
+"Indeed, I hope you would not, little Prudy; for I made them up as I
+went along. There are no fairies but those we have in our hearts. Our
+best thoughts are good fairies; and our worst thoughts are evil
+fairies."
+
+"Oh, yes, auntie, I know! When we go bathing in the ocean, Susy says,
+'Let's be all clean, so the spirit of the water can enter our hearts.'
+And it does; but it goes in by our noses."
+
+Mrs. Clifford had tacitly given her consent to Grace's copying the
+stories. This task was performed accordingly, much to the disgust of
+Horace, who declared that of the whole number only the tale of "Wild
+Robin" was worth reading.
+
+"And 'Wild Robin,'" said Grace, instructively, "is the only one that
+has a moral for you, Horace. When our soldiers are starving so, it is
+really dreadful to see how you dislike corned beef and despise
+vegetables! Such a dainty boy as you needs to be stolen a while by the
+fairies."
+
+"Well, Gracie, I reckon you'd run double-quick to pull me off the
+milk-white steed. You couldn't get along without me two days. Look
+here! what story has a moral for you, miss? It's the 'Water-kelpie.'
+You are like the man that married Moneta: you're always wanting
+money."
+
+"But it's for the soldiers, Horace," said Grace, with a smile of
+forbearance toward her brother. "I'm willing to give all my
+pocket-money; and I mean the other girls shall. If we're stingy to our
+country these days, we ought to be shot! 'Princess Hilda's' the best
+story in the book. I wish Isa Harrington could read it! She wouldn't
+make any more mischief between Cassy and me!"
+
+"I like 'The Lost Sylphid' the best," said Prudy; "but _was_ she a
+great butterfly, do you s'pose? The stories are all just as nice; just
+like book stories. I shouldn't think anybody made 'em up. Aunt 'Ria
+can write as good as the big girls to the grammar-school. I promised
+not to believe a single word; and I sha'n't. I'm glad she called it
+_my_ Fairy Book."
+
+
+
+
+CRISTOBAL.
+
+A CHRISTMAS LEGEND.
+
+
+Long ago, in fair Burgundy, lived a lad named Cristobal. His large
+dark eyes lay under the fringe of his lids, full of shadows; eyes as
+lustrous as purple amethysts, and, alas! as sightless.
+
+He had not always been blind, as perhaps a wild and passionate lad,
+named Jasper, might have told you. On a certain Christmas Eve, a merry
+boy was little Cristobal, as he pattered along to church, trying with
+his wooden shoes to keep time to the dancing bells. In his hand he
+carried a Christmas candle of various colors. Never, he thought, was
+a rainbow so exquisitely tinted as that candle. Carefully he watched
+it when it winked its sleepy eye, eagerly begging his mamma to snuff
+it awake again. How gayly the streets twinkled with midnight lanterns!
+And how mortifying to the stars to be outdone by such a grand
+illumination!
+
+A new painting had just been hung in the church,--the Holy Child,
+called by the people "Little Jesus," with an aureola about his head.
+Cristobal looked at this picture with reverent delight; and, to his
+surprise, the Holy Child returned his gaze: wherever he went, the
+sweet, sorrowful eyes followed him. There was a wondrous charm in that
+pleading glance. Why was it so wistful? What had those deep eyes to
+say?
+
+The air was cloudy with the breath of frankincense and myrrh. Deep
+voices and the heavy organ sounded chants and anthems. There were
+prayers to the coming Messiah, and the sprinkling of holy water; and,
+at last, the midnight mass was ended.
+
+Then, in tumult and great haste, the people went home for
+merry-makings. Cristobal, eager to see what the Yule-log might have in
+store for him, rushed out of the church with careless speed, stumbling
+over a boy who stood in his way,--the haughty, insolent Jasper.
+Jasper's beautiful Christmas-candle was cracked in twenty pieces by
+his fall.
+
+"I'll teach you better manners, young peasant!" cried he, rushing upon
+Cristobal in a frenzy, and dealing fierce blows without mercy or
+reason.
+
+It was then that Cristobal's eyes went out like falling stars. Their
+lustre and beauty remained; but they were empty caskets, their vision
+gone.
+
+Then followed terrible anguish; and all Cristobal's mother could do
+was to hold her boy in her arms, and soothe him by singing. At last
+the fever was spent; but the pain still throbbed on, and sometimes
+seemed to burn into Cristobal's brain. He cried out again and again,
+"What right had that fierce Jasper to spring upon me so? I meant him
+no harm; and he knew it. Oh, I would like to see him chained in a den!
+He is like the wicked people who are turned into wolves at
+Christmas-tide. I would cry for joy if I could hear him groan with
+such pain as mine!"
+
+Poor Cristobal never hoped to see again. He carried in his mind
+pictures of cities and hamlets, of trees, flowers, and old familiar
+faces; but oftenest came Jasper's face, just as it had last glared on
+him with blood-thirsty eyes. It was a terrible countenance. Only one
+charm could dispel the horror,--the remembrance of the beautiful Child
+in the church. That picture blotted out every thing else. It was like
+the refrain in the Burgundy carols, "Noel, Noel," which comes again
+and again, and never tires of coming.
+
+A whole year passed away. Cristobal's mother only prayed now that her
+boy might suffer less: she had ceased to pray for the healing of his
+blindness.
+
+Now it was Christmas-tide again. Ever since Advent, people had been
+clearing their throats, and singing carols. They roasted chestnuts,
+drank white wine, and chanted praises of the "Little Jesus," who was
+soon to come, bringing peace on earth, good-will to men.
+
+In the streets, one heard bagpipes and minstrels; and, by the
+hearthstones, the music of the wandering piper. The children began to
+talk again of the Yule-log, and to wonder what gifts Noel would bring
+to place under each end of it; for these little folks, who have no
+stocking-saint like our Santa Claus, believe in another quite as good,
+who rains down sugar-plums in the night.
+
+Everywhere there was a joyful bustle. Housewives were making ready
+their choicest dishes for the great Christmas-supper; fathers were
+slyly peeping into shop-windows, and children hoarding their sous and
+centimes for bonbons and comfits.
+
+Everybody was merry but Cristobal; or so thought the lad. He had no
+money to spend, and little but pain for his holiday-cheer. A patch
+here and there in his worn clothes was the best present his thrifty
+mother was able to make; always excepting the little variegated taper,
+which few were too poor to buy.
+
+Christmas Eve came. Family friends dropped in. The Yule-log was set
+on the fire with shouts and singing. "Oh that I could see these kind
+faces!" moaned Cristobal. "No doubt, Jasper's chestnuts are popping
+merrily; and his shoes will be full of presents. And here am I! My
+head aches, and my eye-balls burn."
+
+He stole out of the room, and, throwing himself on a wicker bench,
+mused over his troubles in solitude. One might have supposed him
+sleeping; for how should one imagine that his beautiful eyes were of
+no manner of use, except when they were closed? When Cristobal said,
+"Let me see," he dropped his eye-lids; and what he saw then, no artist
+can paint.
+
+On this night, a beautiful child appeared before him, as like the
+picture of the Little Jesus as if it had stepped out of its frame on
+the church-wall. Even the crimson and blue tints of the old painting
+were faithfully preserved; and every fold of the soft drapery was the
+very same.
+
+"I saw you, Cristobal, when you came before me with your colored
+candle, one year ago."
+
+"I knew it, I knew it!" cried Cristobal, clasping his hands in awe. "I
+saw your eyes follow me; and I never once turned but you were looking.
+They told me it was only a picture; but I said for that very reason
+your eyes were sorrowful,--you longed to be alive."
+
+The child replied by a slight motion of the head; and the aureola
+trembled like sunlight on the water. The longer Cristobal gazed, the
+more courage he gathered. "Lovely vision," said he, "if vision you may
+be,--I have said to myself, I would gladly walk to Rome with peas in
+my shoes, if I could know what you wished to say to me that Christmas
+night."
+
+"Only this, little brother: Are you ready for Christmas?"
+
+"Alas! no: I never am. I have only two sous in the world."
+
+"Poor Cristobal! Yet, without a centime, one may be ready for
+Christmas."
+
+"But I am so very unhappy!"
+
+"You do indeed look sad, little brother: where is your pain?"
+
+"In my eyes," moaned the boy, pouring out the words with a delightful
+sense of relief; for he was sure they dropped into a pitying heart.
+"Beloved little Jesus, let me tell you that since I saw you last I
+have been wickedly injured. Now I have always a pain in my eyes: there
+are two flames behind them, which burn day and night."
+
+"I grieve for you," said the Child with exquisite tenderness; "yet,
+dear boy, for all that, you might be ready for Christmas: but is there
+not also a pain throbbing and burning in your _heart_?"
+
+"Oh, if you mean that, I am tossed up and down by vexation: I am full
+of hatred against that terrible Jasper. It was all about a miserable
+Christmas-candle he carried. I broke it by pushing him down. Tell me,
+was he right to fly at me like a wild beast? Ought he not to suffer
+even as I have suffered? Is it just, is it right, for the great man's
+son to put out a peasant boy's eyes, and be happy again?"
+
+"Misguided Jasper!" said the Child solemnly; "let him answer for his
+own sin: judge not, little brother."
+
+Cristobal hid his face in his hands, and wept for shame.
+
+"Shall I give you ten golden words for a Christmas-gift? Will you
+hide them in your heart, and be happy?"
+
+"I will," answered Cristobal.
+
+"They are these," said the Child with a voice of wondrous sweetness:
+"Pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you."
+
+Cristobal repeated the words, a soft light stealing over his face. "I
+will remember," he said, looking up to meet the pleading eyes of the
+Child: but, lo! the whole face had melted into the aureola; nothing
+was left but light. Yet Cristobal was filled with a new joy; and, as
+he opened his eyes, his dream--if dream it were--changed, becoming as
+sweet and solemn as a prayer. It seemed to him that the roof of the
+cottage glittered with stars, and was no longer a roof, but the
+boundless sky; and, afar off, like remembered music, a voice fell on
+his ear, "For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father
+will also forgive you your trespasses."
+
+Cristobal arose, and, although still blind, walked in light. "It is
+the aureola which has stolen into my heart," thought Cristobal. "The
+pain and hate are all gone. Now I am ready for Christmas. I wish I
+could help poor Jasper, who has such a weight of guilt to carry!"
+
+Next day, "golden-sided" Burgundy saw no happier boy than Cristobal.
+He walked in the procession that night, carrying a candle whose light
+he could not see; but what did it signify, since there was light in
+his soul?
+
+Hark! In the midst of the Christmas-chimes breaks the jangling of
+fire-bells. The count's house is on fire! The sparks pour out thicker
+and faster; tongues of flame leap to the sky; the bells clang
+hoarsely; the Christmas procession is broken into wild disorder; the
+wheels of the engine roll through the streets, unheard in the din.
+
+Cristobal rushed eagerly toward the flames, but was pulled away by the
+people.
+
+"We cannot drown the fire!" they cried: "the building must fall! Are
+the inmates all safe?"
+
+"All, thank Heaven!" cried the count.
+
+"No: _Jasper_! See, he waves his hand from the third story! Save him!
+save my boy!"
+
+Jasper had set fire to a curtain with his fatal Christmas-candle. Now
+he raved and shouted in vain: no one would venture up the ladder.
+
+"O Little Jesus," whispered Cristobal, "give light to my eyes, even as
+unto my soul! Let me save Jasper!"
+
+At once the iron band fell from Cristobal's vision. He saw, and, at
+the same moment, felt a supernatural strength. He tore away from the
+restraining arms of the people; he rushed up the ladder, shouting, "In
+the name of the Little Jesus!" He reached the window, heedless of his
+scorched arms. "Jasper!" he cried, seizing the half-conscious boy, "be
+not afraid: I have the strength to carry you."
+
+And down the ladder he bore him, step by step, through the crackling
+flames.
+
+Jasper was revived; and the fainting Cristobal was borne through the
+streets in the arms of the populace.
+
+"Wonder of wonders!" they all shouted.
+
+"It was the Little Jesus," gasped Cristobal: "he opened my eyes; he
+guided me up the ladder, and down again!"
+
+"Hallelujah!" was now the cry. "On the birthday of our Lord, the
+blind receive their sight."
+
+"It is a triumph of faith," said the saints reverently.
+
+"A miracle," murmured the nuns, making the sign of the cross.
+
+"Not a miracle," replied the wise doctors, after they had first
+consulted their books: "it is only the electrifying of the optic
+nerve."
+
+But hardly any two could agree, and what was so mysterious at the time
+is no clearer now.
+
+"Dear little Cristobal," sobbed the broken-hearted Jasper, "how could
+you forgive such a wicked boy as I?"
+
+"It was very easy," replied Cristobal, "when once the Little Jesus
+called me 'brother,' and bade me pray for you."
+
+"Oh that I could repay you for your wonderful deed of love," said
+Jasper, through his tears.
+
+"Do not thank me," whispered Cristobal, with a look of awe; "thank the
+Little Jesus. And when he comes again next year, to ask what feelings
+we hold in our hearts, let us both be ready for Christmas."
+
+
+
+
+WILD ROBIN.
+
+A SCOTTISH FAIRY TALE.
+
+
+In the green valley of the Yarrow, near the castle-keep of Norham,
+dwelt an honest, sonsy little family, whose only grief was an unhappy
+son, named Robin.
+
+Janet, with jimp form, bonnie eyes, and cherry cheeks, was the best of
+daughters; the boys, Sandie and Davie, were swift-footed, brave, kind,
+and obedient; but Robin, the youngest, had a stormy temper, and, when
+his will was crossed, he became as reckless as a reeling hurricane.
+Once, in a passion, he drove two of his father's "kye," or cattle,
+down a steep hill to their death. He seemed not to care for home or
+kindred, and often pierced the tender heart of his mother with sharp
+words. When she came at night, and "happed" the bed-clothes carefully
+about his form, and then stooped to kiss his nut-brown cheeks, he
+turned away with a frown, muttering, "Mither, let me be."
+
+It was a sad case with Wild Robin, who seemed to have neither love nor
+conscience.
+
+"My heart is sair," sighed his mother, "wi' greeting over sich a son."
+
+"He hates our auld cottage and our muckle wark," said the poor father.
+"Ah, weel! I could a'maist wish the fairies had him for a season, to
+teach him better manners."
+
+This the gudeman said heedlessly, little knowing there was any danger
+of Robin's being carried away to Elf-land. Whether the fairies were at
+that instant listening under the eaves, will never be known; but it
+chanced, one day, that Wild Robin was sent across the moors to fetch
+the kye.
+
+"I'll rin away," thought the boy: "'tis hard indeed if ilka day a
+great lad like me must mind the kye. I'll gae aff; and they'll think
+me dead."
+
+So he gaed, and he gaed, over round swelling hills, over old
+battle-fields, past the roofless ruins of houses whose walls were
+crowned with tall climbing grasses, till he came to a crystal sheet of
+water, called St. Mary's Loch. Here he paused to take breath. The sky
+was dull and lowering; but at his feet were yellow flowers, which
+shone, on that gray day, like freaks of sunshine.
+
+He threw himself wearily upon the grass, not heeding that he had
+chosen his couch within a little mossy circle known as a "fairy's
+ring." Wild Robin knew that the country people would say the fays had
+pressed that green circle with their light feet. He had heard all the
+Scottish lore of brownies, elves, will-o'-the-wisps, and the strange
+water-kelpies, who shriek with eldritch laughter. He had been told
+that the queen of the fairies had coveted him from his birth, and
+would have stolen him away, only that, just as she was about to seize
+him from the cradle, he had _sneezed_; and from that instant the
+fairy-spell was over, and she had no more control of him.
+
+Yet, in spite of all these stories, the boy was not afraid; and if he
+had been informed that any of the uncanny people were, even now,
+haunting his footsteps, he would not have believed it.
+
+"I see," said Wild Robin, "the sun is drawing his night-cap over his
+eyes, and dropping asleep. I believe I'll e'en take a nap mysel', and
+see what comes o' it."
+
+In two minutes he had forgotten St. Mary's Loch, the hills, the moors,
+the yellow flowers. He heard, or fancied he heard, his sister Janet
+calling him home.
+
+"And what have ye for supper?" he muttered between his teeth.
+
+"Parritch and milk," answered the lassie gently.
+
+"Parritch and milk! Whist! say nae mair! Lang, lang may ye wait for
+Wild Robin: he'll not gae back for oat-meal parritch!"
+
+Next a sad voice fell on his ear.
+
+"Mither's; and she mourns me dead!" thought he; but it was only the
+far-off village-bell, which sounded like the echo of music he had
+heard lang syne, but might never hear again.
+
+"D'ye think I'm not alive?" tolled the bell. "I sit all day in my
+little wooden temple, brooding over the sins of the parish."
+
+"A brazen lie!" cried Robin.
+
+"Nay, the truth, as I'm a living soul! Wae worth ye, Robin Telfer: ye
+think yersel' hardly used. Say, have your brithers softer beds than
+yours? Is your ain father served with larger potatoes or creamier
+buttermilk? Whose mither sae kind as yours, ungrateful chiel? Gae to
+Elf-land, Wild Robin; and dool and wae follow ye! dool and wae follow
+ye!"
+
+The round yellow sun had dropped behind the hills; the evening breezes
+began to blow; and now could be heard the faint trampling of small
+hoofs, and the tinkling of tiny bridle-bells: the fairies were
+trooping over the ground. First of all rode the queen.
+
+    "Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,
+      Her mantle of the velvet fine;
+    At ilka tress of her horse's mane
+      Hung fifty silver bells and nine."
+
+But Wild Robin's closed eyes saw nothing; his sleep-sealed ears heard
+nothing. The queen of fairies dismounted, stole up to him, and laid
+her soft fingers on his cheeks.
+
+"Here is a little man after my ain heart," said she: "I like his
+knitted brow, and the downward curve of his lips. Knights, lift him
+gently, set him on a red-roan steed, and waft him away to Fairy-land."
+
+Wild Robin was lifted as gently as a brown leaf borne by the wind; he
+rode as softly as if the red-roan steed had been saddled with satin,
+and shod with velvet. It even may be that the faint tinkling of the
+bridle-bells lulled him into a deeper slumber; for when he awoke it
+was morning in Fairy-land.
+
+Robin sprang from his mossy couch, and stared about him. Where was he?
+He rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Dreaming, no doubt; but what
+meant all these nimble little beings bustling hither and thither in
+hot haste? What meant these pearl-bedecked caves, scarcely larger than
+swallows' nests? these green canopies, overgrown with moss? He pinched
+himself, and gazed again. Countless flowers nodded to him, and seemed,
+like himself, on tiptoe with curiosity, he thought. He beckoned one of
+the busy, dwarfish little brownies toward him.
+
+"I ken I'm talking in my sleep," said the lad; "but can ye tell me
+what dell is this, and how I chanced to be in it?"
+
+The brownie might or might not have heard; but, at any rate, he
+deigned no reply, and went on with his task, which was pounding seeds
+in a stone mortar.
+
+"Am I Robin Telfer, of the Valley of Yarrow, and yet canna shake aff
+my silly dreams?"
+
+"Weel, my lad," quoth the queen of the fairies, giving him a smart tap
+with her wand, "stir yersel', and be at work; for naebody idles in
+Elf-land."
+
+Bewildered Robin ventured a look at the little queen. By daylight she
+seemed somewhat sleepy and tired; and was withal so tiny, that he
+might almost have taken her between his thumb and finger, and twirled
+her above his head; yet she poised herself before him on a
+mullein-stalk, and looked every inch a queen. Robin found her gaze
+oppressive; for her eyes were hard and cold and gray, as if they had
+been little orbs of granite.
+
+"Get ye to work, Wild Robin!"
+
+"What to do?" meekly asked the boy, hungrily glancing at a few kernels
+of rye which had rolled out of one of the brownie's mortars.
+
+"Are ye hungry, my laddie? touch a grain of rye if ye dare! Shell
+these dry bains; and if so be ye're starving, eat as many as ye can
+boil in an acorn-cup."
+
+With these words she gave the boy a withered bean-pod, and, summoning
+a meek little brownie, bade him see that the lad did not over-fill the
+acorn-cup, and that he did not so much as peck at a grain of rye.
+Then, glancing sternly at her unhappy prisoner, she withdrew, sweeping
+after her the long train of her green robe.
+
+The dull days crept by, and still there seemed no hope that Wild Robin
+would ever escape from his beautiful but detested prison. He had no
+wings, poor laddie; and he could neither become invisible nor draw
+himself through a keyhole bodily.
+
+It is true, he had mortal companions: many chubby babies; many
+bright-eyed boys and girls, whose distracted parents were still
+seeking them, far and wide, upon the earth. It would almost seem that
+the wonders of Fairy-land might make the little prisoners happy. There
+were countless treasures to be had for the taking, and the very dust
+in the little streets was precious with specks of gold: but the poor
+children shivered for the want of a mother's love; they all pined for
+the dear home-people. If a certain task seemed to them particularly
+irksome, the heartless queen was sure to find it out, and oblige them
+to perform it, day after day. If they disliked any article of food,
+that, and no other, were they forced to eat, or starve.
+
+Wild Robin, loathing his withered beans and unsalted broths, longed
+intensely for one little breath of fragrant steam from the toothsome
+parritch on his father's table, one glance at a roasted potato. He was
+homesick for the gentle sister he had neglected, the rough brothers
+whose cheeks he had pelted black and blue; and yearned for the very
+chinks in the walls, the very thatch on the home-roof.
+
+Gladly would he have given every fairy-flower, at the root of which
+clung a lump of gold ore, if he might have had his own coverlet
+"happed" about him once more by the gentle hands he had despised.
+
+"Mither," he whispered in his dreams, "my shoon are worn, and my feet
+bleed; but I'll soon creep hame, if I can. Keep the parritch warm for
+me."
+
+Robin was as strong as a mountain-goat; and his strength was put to
+the task of threshing rye, grinding oats and corn, or drawing water
+from a brook.
+
+Every night, troops of gay fairies and plodding brownies stole off on
+a visit to the upper world, leaving Robin and his companions in ever
+deeper despair. Poor Robin! he was fain to sing,--
+
+    "Oh that my father had ne'er on me smiled!
+      Oh that my mother had ne'er to me sung!
+    Oh that my cradle had never been rocked,
+      But that I had died when I was young!"
+
+Now, there was one good-natured brownie who pitied Robin. When he took
+a journey to earth with his fellow-brownies, he often threshed rye for
+the laddie's father, or churned butter in his good mother's dairy,
+unseen and unsuspected. If the little creature had been watched, and
+paid for these good offices, he would have left the farmhouse forever
+in sore displeasure.
+
+To homesick Robin he brought news of the family who mourned him as
+dead. He stole a silky tress of Janet's fair hair, and wondered to see
+the boy weep over it; for brotherly affection is a sentiment which
+never yet penetrated the heart of a brownie. The dull little sprite
+would gladly have helped the poor lad to his freedom, but told him
+that only on one night of the year was there the least hope, and that
+was on Hallow-e'en, when the whole nation of fairies ride in
+procession through the streets of earth.
+
+So Robin was instructed to spin a dream, which the kind brownie would
+hum in Janet's ear while she slept. By this means the lassie would not
+only learn that her brother was in the power of the elves, but would
+also learn how to release him.
+
+Accordingly, the night before Hallow-e'en, the bonnie Janet dreamed
+that the long-lost Robin was living in Elf-land, and that he was to
+pass through the streets with a cavalcade of fairies. But, alas! how
+should even a sister know him in the dim starlight, among the passing
+troops of elfish and mortal riders? The dream assured her that she
+might let the first company go by, and the second; but Robin would be
+one of the third:--
+
+    "First let pass the black, Janet,
+      And syne let pass the brown;
+    But grip ye to the milk-white steed,
+      And pull the rider down.
+
+    For _I_ ride on the milk-white steed,
+      And aye nearest the town:
+    Because I was a christened lad
+      They gave me that renown.
+
+    My right hand will be gloved, Janet;
+      My left hand will be bare;
+    And these the tokens I give thee:
+      No doubt I will be there.
+
+    They'll shape me in your arms, Janet,
+      A toad, snake, and an eel
+    But hold me fast, nor let me gang,
+      As you do love me weel.
+
+    They'll shape me in your arms, Janet,
+      A dove, bat, and a swan:
+    Cast your green mantle over me,
+      I'll be myself again."
+
+The good sister Janet, far from remembering any of the old sins of her
+brother, wept for joy to know that he was yet among the living. She
+told no one of her strange dream; but hastened secretly to the Miles
+Cross, saw the strange cavalcade pricking through the greenwood, and
+pulled down the rider on the milk-white steed, holding him fast
+through all his changing shapes. But when she had thrown her green
+mantle over him, and clasped him in her arms as her own brother
+Robin, the angry voice of the fairy queen was heard:--
+
+    "Up then spake the queen of fairies,
+      Out of a bush of rye,
+    'You've taken away the bonniest lad
+      In all my companie.
+
+    'Had I but had the wit, yestreen,
+      That I have learned to-day,
+    I'd pinned the sister to her bed
+      E're he'd been won away!'"
+
+However, it was too late now. Wild Robin was safe, and the elves had
+lost their power over him forever. His forgiving parents and his
+leal-hearted brothers welcomed him home with more than the old love.
+
+So grateful and happy was the poor laddie, that he nevermore grumbled
+at his oat-meal parritch, or minded his kye with a scowling brow.
+
+But to the end of his days, when he heard mention of fairies and
+brownies, his mind wandered off in a mizmaze. He died in peace, and
+was buried on the banks of the Yarrow.
+
+
+
+
+THE VESPER STAR.
+
+
+Once upon a time, the new moon was shining like a silver bow in the
+heavens, and the stars glittered and trembled as if they were afraid.
+
+"What frightens you?" said the placid Moon; "be calm, like me."
+
+"I am freezing," answered the North Star; "that is why I shake."
+
+"We are dancing," said the Seven Sisters; "and, watch as closely as
+you please, you can never get a fair peep at our golden sandals, our
+feet twinkle so."
+
+"I am sleepy," grumbled the Great Bear; "I am trying to keep my eyes
+open. Perhaps that is the reason I wink so much."
+
+Thus, with one accord, they made excuses to the pale Moon, who is
+their guardian,--all but the sweet Vesper Star: she was silent; and
+when a white cloud floated by, she was glad of an excuse to hide her
+face.
+
+"Let the North Star shiver, and the Seven Sisters dance, and all the
+golden stars hold a revel," thought she; "as for me, I am sad."
+
+For you must know that the Vesper Star has a task to perform, and is
+not allowed to sleep. She keeps vigil over the Earth, by night; and
+never ceases her watch till the world is up in the morning. For the
+sick and sad, who cannot sleep, she feels an unutterable pity, so that
+her heart is always throbbing with sorrow.
+
+The Moon looked at the Vesper Star, and said, "Dream on, sweet sister;
+for you, the noblest of all, have told me no falsehood."
+
+This the Moon said because she knew that none of the stars had given
+a true reason for twinkling so gayly that night. The truth was, they
+were filled with envy, and were trying to be as brilliant as possible,
+to compete with a flaming Comet which had just appeared in the sky.
+
+It is not for man to know how long and how peacefully the gentle stars
+had travelled together, doing the work which God has appointed,
+without a murmur. But now that this distinguished stranger had
+arrived, the whole firmament was in dismay. How proudly he strode the
+heavens! how his blaze illumined the sky! The Stars whispered one to
+another, and cast angry eyes on the shining wonder.
+
+"Make way for me," he said, sweeping after him a glorious train of
+light.
+
+"Not I," muttered the fiery Mars.
+
+"Not I," quoth the majestic Jupiter; "I do not move an inch."
+
+The Comet flashed with a lofty disdain.
+
+"Puny Stars," said he, "keep your places, give out all your
+light,--nobody heeds you; the place of honor is always by the Vesper
+Star; here I make my throne."
+
+The Vesper Star smiled sadly, but without a twinge of envy.
+
+"Welcome, shining one! Warm me with your fires; let us work together."
+
+"Work!" cried the Comet, throwing out sparkles of scorn; "I was not
+born to work, but to _shine_!"
+
+"Indeed!" said the Vesper Star; "you have come into strange company,
+then; for here we all work with a good will." "He does not burn with
+the true fire," thought the good Star; and she wrapped herself about
+with a soft cloud, and said no more.
+
+"Oh that I could be set on fire like the Comet!" thought the cold
+North Star. "I would gladly burn to death if I could astonish the
+world with my blaze!"
+
+"Let us die!" said the Seven Sisters; "let us die together; we have
+ceased to be noticed."
+
+"Ah, hum!" growled the Great Bear; "so many years as I have kept watch
+in this sky; and now to be set one side by this upstart of a
+foreigner! I've a great mind to go to sleep and never wake up!"
+
+"Hush!" whispered the Vesper Star gently; "do your duty, and trust God
+for the rest."
+
+And lo! that very night there was an end of the Comet's splendor.
+
+"Adieu, my dull friends," said he; "I am tired of a quiet life: a
+little more, and I should fade out entirely!"
+
+Then, with a blaze and a whiz, and a dizzy wheel, he flashed out of
+the sky; and no one knew whither he went, or whence he came, any more
+than the path of the quick lightning.
+
+The stars were ashamed of their envy, and went to their old work with
+a stronger will and a steadier purpose: but to the Vesper Star was
+given a brighter and sweeter light than to any other, because she had
+done her work without envy and without repining.
+
+
+
+
+THE WATER-KELPIE.
+
+
+Once there lived under the earth a race of fairies called gnomes. They
+were strange little beings, with dull eyes and harsh voices; but they
+did no harm, and lived in peace.
+
+They never saw the sun; but they had lamps much brighter than our
+gaslight, which burned night and day, year after year.
+
+They had music; but it was the tinkling of silver bells and golden
+harps,--not half so sweet as the singing of birds and the babbling of
+brooks.
+
+Flowers they had none, but plenty of gems,--"the stars of earth."
+There were green trees in the kingdom: but the leaves were hard
+emeralds; and the fruit, apples of gold or cherries of ruby; and these
+precious gems the gnomes ground to powder, and swallowed with much
+satisfaction.
+
+They heaped up piles of gold and diamonds as high as your head; and
+never was there a gnome so poor as to build a house of any thing a
+whit coarser than jasper or onyx. You would have believed yourself
+dreaming, if you could have walked through the streets of their
+cities. They were paved with rosy almandine and snowy alabaster; and
+the palaces glittered in the gay lamplight like a million stars.
+
+These gnomes led, for the most part, rather dull lives. Like their
+cousins, the water-sprites, or undines, they were roguish and shrewd,
+but had no higher views of life than our katydids and crickets.
+Indeed, they hardly cared for any thing but frisking about, eating
+and sleeping. But, after all, what can be expected of creatures
+without souls? One sees, now and then, stupid human beings, whose eyes
+have no thoughts in them, and whose souls seem to be sound asleep.
+Such lumps of dulness might almost as well be gnomes, and slip into
+the earth and have done with it.
+
+These underground folk had a great horror of our world. They knew all
+about it; for one of them had peeped out and taken a bird's-eye view.
+He went up very bravely, but hurried back with such strange accounts,
+that his friends considered him a little insane.
+
+"Listen!" said the gnome, whose name was Clod. "The earth has a soft
+carpet, of a new kind of emerald; overhead is a blue roof, made of
+turquoise; but I am told that there is a crack in it, and sometimes
+water comes pouring down in torrents. But the worst plague of all is
+a great glaring eye-ball of fire, which mortals call the sun."
+
+When Clod told his stories of the earth, he always ended by saying,--
+
+"Believe me, it is bad luck to have the sun shine on you. It nearly
+put my eyes out; and I have had the headache ever since."
+
+Now, there was a young girl, named Moneta, who listened very eagerly
+to the old gnome's stories of the earth, and thought she would like to
+see it for herself. She was a kind little maiden, as playful as a
+kitten; and her friends were not willing she should go. But Moneta had
+somewhere heard that fairies who marry mortals receive the gift of a
+human soul: so, in spite of all objections, she was resolved to take
+the journey; for she had in her dark mind some vague aspirations after
+a higher state of being.
+
+Then the gnome-family declared, that, if she once went away, they
+would never allow her to return; for they highly disapproved of
+running backward and forward between the two worlds, gossiping.
+
+"Have you no love of country," cried they, "that you would willingly
+cast your lot among silly creatures who look down upon your race?"
+
+The old gnome, who had travelled, took the romantic maiden one side,
+and said,--
+
+"My dear Moneta, since you _will_ go, I must tell you a secret; for
+you remember I have seen the world, and know all about it. Mortals are
+a higher race than ourselves, it is true; but that is only because
+they live atop o' the earth, while we are under their feet. They make
+a great parade about their little ticking jewel they call Conscience;
+but, after all, they will any of them sell it for one of our
+ear-rings! I assure you they love money better than their own souls;
+and I would advise you, as a friend that has seen the world, to load
+yourself with as much gold as you can carry."
+
+So Moneta donned a heavy dress of spun gold, which was woven in such a
+manner, that, at every motion she made, it let fall a shower of
+gold-dust. She filled the sleeves with sardonyx, almandine, and
+amethyst; and hid in her bosom diamonds and sapphires enough to
+purchase a kingdom.
+
+Then she went up a steep ladder, and knocked on the alabaster ceiling,
+using the charm which the gnome had given her:--
+
+"Mother Earth, Mother Earth, set me free!"
+
+At her words there was a sound as of an earthquake, and a little space
+was made, just large enough for her to crawl through. When she had
+reached the top, the earth closed again, and she was left seated upon
+a rock; and the light of the sun was so dazzling, that she hid her
+face in her hands.
+
+Thus she sat for a long time, not knowing whither to go, till a young
+man chanced to come that way, who said, "What do you here?"
+
+She raised her face at his words, and could not speak, so great was
+her surprise at the beauty of the strange youth. He, for his part,
+could not help smiling; for she was as yellow as an orange; and an
+uglier little creature he had never beheld: but he said in a kind
+voice,--
+
+"Come with me to my mother's house, and you shall be refreshed with
+cake and wine."
+
+She arose to follow him; and, as she walked, a bright shower of
+gold-dust sprinkled the earth at every step.
+
+The young man held out his hands eagerly to catch the shining spray,
+thinking he would like such a rarely-gifted damsel for his wife; and,
+in truth, he smiled so sweetly, and dropped such winning words, that
+in time he won her heart and she became his bride.
+
+    "And, when she cam' into the kirk,
+      She shimmered like the sun;
+    The belt that was about her waist
+      Was a' with pearles bedone."
+
+So great was her love for him, that she forgot her lost home under the
+earth; and every day, when she bade her husband "good-morning," she
+placed in his hand a precious stone; and he kissed her, calling her
+his "dear Moneta," his "heart's jewel." But at last the diamonds,
+sapphires, and rubies were all gone; and she was also losing the power
+of shedding gold-dust. Then her husband frowned on her, and no longer
+called her his "heart's jewel," or his "dear Moneta."
+
+At length she presented him with a little daughter as lovely as a
+water-sprite, with hair like threads of gold. Now the father watched
+the babe with a greedy eye; for its mother had wept precious tears of
+molten gold before she received the gift of human grief, and he hoped
+her child would do the same; but, when he found it was only a common
+mortal, he shut his heart against the babe. Moneta was no longer
+yellow and ugly, but very beautiful; with deep eyes, out of which
+looked a sweet soul: yet she had lost her fairy gifts, and her husband
+had ceased to love her. The good woman mourned in secret; and would
+have wished to die, only her precious child comforted her heart.
+
+One day, as she was sitting by the shore of the lake, a water-kelpie
+saw her weeping, and came to her in the form of a white-haired old
+man, saying,--
+
+"Charming lady! why do you weep? Come with me to my kingdom under the
+waters. My people are always happy."
+
+Then she looked where he bade her, and saw, afar down under the
+waters, a beautiful city, whose streets were paved with red and white
+coral.
+
+The kelpie said, "Will you go down?"
+
+"No," sighed Moneta, thinking of the kind words her husband had
+sometimes spoken to her: "I cannot go yet."
+
+But the kelpie came every day, repeating the question, "Will you go
+now?" and she answered, "I cannot go yet."
+
+But at last her husband said,--
+
+"How often the thought comes to me, If I had no wife and child, all
+this gold would be mine!" and he knitted his brows with a frown.
+
+Then Moneta looked in his face, and said,--
+
+"Dear Ivan, I have loved you truly; but you no longer care for Moneta.
+I will go away with the little child, and all our gold shall be yours.
+Farewell!"
+
+Then she embraced him with falling tears. His heart was stirred within
+him; and he would have followed her, only he knew not which way she
+had gone.
+
+Soon the water-kelpie came to him in the form of a horse; and ran
+before him, neighing fiercely, and breathing fire from his mouth. This
+is the way kelpies take to announce the fact that some one has gone
+under the water.
+
+So the man followed the kelpie. His heart was swelling with grief;
+and all his love for his wife and child had come back to him.
+
+He looked into the lake, and saw the fair city. In a transparent
+palace Moneta was sitting, crowned with pearls, the child sleeping on
+her bosom. He shouted,--
+
+"Come back, O Moneta!" but she heard him not.
+
+He went every day to the same spot, never leaving it until the water
+was clear, and he had seen his wife and child. He cared no more for
+his fine castle and his gold; for the castle was empty, and the gold
+could not speak.
+
+"Alas," cried he, "if I could listen to the music of Moneta's voice!
+if I could hold the child in my arms once more!"
+
+Now he cared for nothing but to gaze into the waters at Moneta and her
+child.
+
+One day, the water-kelpie appeared to him in the form of an old man.
+
+    [Illustration: THE WATER-KELPIE. Page 70.]
+
+"Why sit you here, sighing like the north wind?" said the kelpie.
+
+"I have loved gold better than my best friends," replied Ivan; "and
+now my best friends are taken away from me, and the gold is left; but
+I love it no longer."
+
+"Ah, ah!" growled the kelpie; "I have heard of such men as you:
+nothing is dear till it is missed. You should have thought of that
+before. If your lost ones were to return, you would treat them as
+badly as ever, no doubt."
+
+"No, no," groaned Ivan; "I would love them better than all the wealth
+in the world! I would love them better than my own life! Ah, the sting
+it is to think of my own ingratitude!"
+
+"Hold!" said the kelpie: "grumble to yourself if you like, but don't
+vex my ears with your complaints. Suppose I were to bring back Moneta
+and the child,--would you give me your chests of gold?"
+
+"That I will," cried the man, "right joyfully."
+
+"Not so fast: will you give me your castle as well?"
+
+"Ah, yes, castle and gold; take them, and welcome."
+
+"Not so fast: Moneta and her child are worth more than these. Will you
+give me the castle and gold, and ten years of your life?"
+
+"With all my heart."
+
+"Then," said the kelpie "go home, and to-morrow you shall see Moneta
+and her child."
+
+When the morrow came, the husband and wife wept for joy at meeting
+once more; and Ivan said,--
+
+"Can you forgive me, dearest Moneta?"
+
+Moneta had already forgiven him; and the three--father, mother, and
+child--loved one another, and were content to the end of their lives;
+and Ivan said,--
+
+"Once for all I have found that gold cannot make one happy; but, with
+the blessing of a clear conscience, warm hearts and loving words are
+the sweetest things in life."
+
+
+
+
+THE LOST SYLPHID.
+
+    "I tell the tale as 'twas told to me."
+
+
+I have heard that one night, on a distant shore, a band of
+water-nixies were dancing to gentle music, their golden sandals
+twinkling like stars.
+
+A lord and lady were walking on the same shore. The lord's eyes were
+bent on the ground; but his wife paused, and said,--
+
+"Listen, my lord, to that enchanting music!"
+
+"I hear no music," he replied, laughing. "You must wake up, dear wife.
+
+    "With half-shut eyes, ever you seem
+    Falling asleep in a half-dream."
+
+"But, my lord, those exquisite beings in gossamer robes! surely you
+see them!"
+
+"I see the play of the moonbeams, my love, and nothing more."
+
+But the wife stood transfixed. One beautiful fairy, taller and fairer
+than her companions, had wings, and floated through the dance,
+scarcely touching the earth.
+
+"Was ever such a vision of loveliness?" cried the enraptured lady:
+"she must be my own little daughter,--eat of my bread, and sleep upon
+my bosom."
+
+Then, kneeling, she sang,--
+
+    "Fair little nixies, that dwell near the water,
+    Give me the winged one to be my own daughter."
+
+The dance ceased. The nixies, bewildered, looked north and south, and
+knew not which way to flee; but the winged fairy, attracted by the
+human love in the lady's eyes, glided slowly forward. Then the nixies
+stormed in fierce wrath, their willowy figures swaying to and fro as
+if blown by the wind.
+
+"They shall not harm you, little one. Come with me, be my own
+daughter, and I will carry you home."
+
+"Home!" echoed the lovely child; "my home is in the Summer-land. Oh,
+will you indeed carry me there?"
+
+Then she folded her white wings, and nestled in the lady's bosom like
+a gentle dove, and was borne to a beautiful castle that overlooked the
+sea. The water-nixies soon forgot her, for they could not hold her
+memory in their little humming-bird hearts.
+
+She was not of their race. Her wings were soft and transparent, like
+those of a white butterfly; and she ever declared that she had once
+alighted from a cloud, and been caught in a nixie's net spread upon
+the grass.
+
+But, in time, her wings dwindled and disappeared; and then the lord,
+who was now her father, could not remember that she had ever been
+other than an earthly child.
+
+"You fancy you were once a sylphid," said he; "but there are no
+sylphids, my sweet one, and there is no Summer-land."
+
+The child became as dear to the lord and lady as their very heart's
+blood; and they forgot her foreign birth, and almost believed, as all
+the world did, that she was their own little daughter. But the child
+did not forget. She longed for the true home she had left; but whither
+should she go to seek it?
+
+"Dear papa," said she, one day, "I beg you will not say again there
+are no sylphids; for I remember so well how I spread my wings and
+flew. It was glorious to see the clouds float under my feet!"
+
+"Very well," said the lord; "if you like, I will say there are
+sylphids in the air, and trolls inside the earth; and, once on a time,
+I was myself a great white butterfly: do you remember chasing me over
+a bed of roses?"
+
+"O papa, now you laugh! I love the twinkle in your eye; and I am so
+glad it is you, and no one else, who is my papa; but just the same,
+and forevermore, I shall keep saying, _I was a sylphid_!"
+
+Sometimes, when she set her white teeth into some delicious fruit, she
+said with dreamy eyes,--
+
+"These grapes of Samarcand came across the seas; but they are not so
+sweet as the fruit in my own garden, mamma."
+
+"And where is your garden, my child?"
+
+"Oh, in the Summer-land. I always forget that you have never seen it.
+When I go there again, mamma, I will certainly take you too; for I
+love you with all my heart. I can never go without you."
+
+When she heard the evening-bells from the minster, she said, "Oh, they
+are like the joy-bells at home, only not so sweet. Nothing, here, is
+so sweet. Even my dear mamma is not so lovely as the lady who comes
+when I am asleep."
+
+Little One--they called her Little One for the want of a name--loved
+to prattle about the wonders of that mysterious fairy-land, which no
+one but herself had ever seen. Her mother would not check her, but let
+her tell her pretty visions of remembered rainbows, and palaces, and
+precious gems. She said,--
+
+"The child has such a vivid fancy! It is not all of us who can see
+pictures when our eyes are shut."
+
+But the lord was not so well pleased; and once, when his daughter
+looked at a frozen stream and murmured, "_We_ have the _happiest_
+rivers at home; they sing all day long, all the year, without
+freezing! Can I find that Summer-land again! Oh, I would creep all
+over the world to seek it," he replied,--
+
+"Little One, it is some cloud-city you are thinking of, some
+dream-land, or isle of Long Ago, which you will never see again. I beg
+you to forget these wild fancies."
+
+But still the child dreamed on. Once she heard the glad song of the
+Hyperboreans:--
+
+    "I come from a land in the sun-bright deep,
+      Where golden gardens glow;
+    Where the winds of the North, becalmed in sleep,
+      Their conch-shells never blow."
+
+She clapped her hands, murmuring to herself,--
+
+"_There_ is my home! I think I remember now it _was_ 'a land in the
+sun-bright deep!'"
+
+So, when she journeyed with her parents to distant countries, she
+always hoped that some ship would bear her away to the Happy Isles;
+and when they once touched a bright shore, and some one cried, "The
+isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!" she thought she was home at
+last, and hardly dared look at the remembered shore. But, alas, she
+had not yet reached the Summer-land: this was not her home.
+
+Then she heard her father say that the jewels she wore had been
+brought up from the deep places under the earth.
+
+"I wonder I had not thought of that," she said to herself. "Since
+there are such beautiful gems in my lost home, it must lie under the
+earth. No doubt if I could only find the right cave, and walk in it
+far enough, I should come to the Summer-land."
+
+So she set out, one day, in wild haste, but only lost herself in a
+deep cavern; and, when she found daylight again, she was all alone
+upon the face of the earth. Her father and mother were nowhere to be
+seen. She shouted their names, and ran to and fro seeking them till
+her strength was all spent. It was growing dark; and Little One could
+only creep under a shelter, and weep herself asleep.
+
+Next morning it was no better, but far worse. Her wretched parents had
+gone home, believing her drowned in the sea. Poor Little One was now
+all alone in the world, and her heart ached with the cold. Kind
+friends gave her food and shelter, and her clothing was warm as warm
+could be; still her heart ached with the cold. People praised her
+beauty so much that she dared not look up to let them see how lovely
+she was; but she had lost both her father and mother, and her heart
+ached and ached. She thought winter was coming on; and the world was
+growing so chilly, that now she must certainly set out for the
+Summer-land. Then she said,--
+
+"If I am a sylphid, perhaps my home is over the hills, and far away.
+Yes: I think it must be in the country where the music goes."
+
+For she thought, when she heard music, that it seemed to hover and
+float over the earth, and lose itself in the sky; so she began to set
+her face toward the country where the music goes. But, though she
+gazed till her eyes ached, she never saw her long-lost home, nor so
+much as a glimpse of one of its spires.
+
+One night, after gazing and weeping till she could scarcely see, and
+had no tears left, the bright being who visited her dreams came and
+whispered,--
+
+    "If there be a land so fair
+      O'er the mountain shining,
+    You will never enter there
+      By looking up and pining."
+
+"Dear me! then what shall I do?" said Little One, clasping her hands.
+"I am tired of the dropping rain, and the bleak winds; I have lost my
+father and mother; I long to go home to the Summer-land."
+
+"There are hills to climb, and streams to cross," said the fairy.
+
+"But I have stout shoes," laughed Little One.
+
+"There are thorns and briers all along the road."
+
+"But I can bear to be pricked."
+
+"Then I will guide you," said the fairy.
+
+"How can that be?" cried the child. "You come to me in dreams; but by
+daylight I cannot see so much as the tips of your wings."
+
+"Listen, and you will hear my voice," replied the fairy. "Set out
+toward the East, at dawn, to-morrow, and I will be with you."
+
+When Little One awoke, the sun was rising, and she said,--
+
+"Oh that golden gate! The sun has left it open: do you see it,
+beautiful lady?"
+
+"I see it," whispered the fairy: "I am close beside you."
+
+"Then," said Little One, fastening her dress, and putting on all the
+jewels she could possibly carry, "I think I will set out at once; for,
+if I make all speed, I may reach the Summer-land before that golden
+gate is closed."
+
+She pressed on, as the fairy directed, up a steep hill, her eyes
+fixed on the glowing eastern sky. But, as the sun strode up higher,
+the morning clouds melted away.
+
+"Where is my golden gate?" cried the child.
+
+"Weeping so soon?" whispered the fairy.
+
+"Do not scold me, dear Whisper," moaned the child; "you know I have
+lost my kind father and mother; and the thorns prick me; and then this
+is such a lonely road; there is nobody to be seen."
+
+The truth was, there were children gathering strawberries on the hill,
+and old women digging herbs; but Little One did not see them, for she
+was all the while watching the sky. But she was soon obliged to pause,
+and take breath.
+
+"Look about you," said the Whisper, "you may see some one as unhappy
+as yourself."
+
+The child looked, and saw a little girl driving a goat; while large
+tears trickled down her cheeks, and moistened her tattered dress. For
+a moment, Little One's heart ceased aching with its own troubles.
+
+"What is your name, little girl?" said she: "and why do you weep?"
+
+"My name is Poor Dorel," replied the child; "my father and mother are
+long since dead; and I have nothing to eat but goat's milk and
+strawberries:" and, as she spoke, the large tears started afresh.
+
+"Poor Dorel! you are the first one I ever saw who had as much trouble
+as I. I, too, have lost a father and mother."
+
+"Were they a king and queen?" asked Dorel, wiping her eyes, and gazing
+at Little One's beautiful dress and glittering ornaments.
+
+"They loved me dearly," replied Little One sadly; "yet I never heard
+that they were king and queen. Come with me, darling Dorel! I never
+before saw any one who was hungry. Come with me! I live in a country
+where there is food enough for everybody."
+
+"Where is that?" said Dorel, eagerly.
+
+"I do not quite know, little girl; but it is not in the bosom of the
+earth, and it is not in the sun-bright deep: so I suppose it is over
+the hills, and far away."
+
+"Now I know who you are," said Dorel. "You are the _lost sylphid_; and
+people say you have travelled all over the world. But, if you do not
+know the way home, pray how can you tell which road to take?"
+
+"Oh! I have a guide,--a beautiful fairy, called Whisper: she shows me
+every step of the way. I wish you would go too, little Dorel!"
+
+"I think I will not, little Sylphid; for, if you have only a Whisper
+for a guide, I do not believe you will ever get there; but, oh, you
+are very, very beautiful!"
+
+"If you will not go," said Little One, "let me, at least, give you a
+few of my jewels: you can sell them for bread."
+
+So saying, she took from her girdle some turquoise ornaments, and
+placed them in Dorel's hand with a kiss which had her whole heart in
+it.
+
+"Now I love you," said Dorel; "but more for the kiss than any thing
+else; and I am going before you to cut down the thorns that shoot out
+by the wayside. I am a little mountain-girl, and know how to use the
+pruning-knife."
+
+Little One danced for joy. She found she could now walk with wonderful
+ease; for not only were there no more sharp thorns to prick her, but
+her heart was also full of a new love, which made the whole world look
+beautiful.
+
+"You see the way is growing easier," said the Whisper.
+
+    "Pour out thy love like the rush of a river,
+    Wasting its waters forever and ever."
+
+"So I will," said Little One. "Is there any one else to love?"
+
+By and by she met an old woman, bent nearly double, and picking up dry
+sticks with trembling hands.
+
+"Poor woman!" said Little One: "I am going to love you."
+
+"Dear me!" said the old crone, dropping her sticks, and looking up
+with surprise in every wrinkle: "you don't mean _me_? Why, my heart is
+all dried up."
+
+"Then you need to be loved all the more," cried Little One heartily.
+
+The poor woman laughed; but, at the same time, brushed a tear from
+her eye with the corner of her apron.
+
+"I thought," said Little One, "I was the only unhappy one in the
+world: it seemed a pity my heart should ache so much; but, oh, I would
+rather have it ache than be dried up!"
+
+"I suppose you never were beaten," said the old woman; "you were never
+pelted with whizzing stones?"
+
+"Indeed I never, never was!" replied Little One, greatly shocked by
+the question.
+
+"By your costly dress, I know you never were so poor as to be always
+longing for food. Let me tell you, my good child, when one is beaten
+and scolded, and feels cold all winter, and hungry all summer, it is
+no wonder one's heart dries up!"
+
+Little One threw her arms about the old woman's neck. "Let me help
+you pick sticks!" said she; "you are too old for hard work; your hands
+tremble too much."
+
+Swiftly gathering up a load of fagots, she put them together in a
+bundle.
+
+"Now, how many jewels shall I give her?" thought the child. "She must
+never want for food again."
+
+"How many?" echoed the Whisper.
+
+    "Give as the morning that flows out of heaven:
+    Give as the free air and sunshine are given."
+
+"Then she shall have half," said Little One in great glee. "Here, poor
+woman, take these sapphires and rubies and diamonds, and never be
+hungry again!"
+
+"Heavenly child!" said the stranger, laying her wasted hand on the
+sylphid's bright head, and blessing her, "it is little except thanks
+that an old creature like me can give; yet may be you will not scorn
+this pair of little shoes: they are strong, and, when you have to step
+on the sharp mountain-rocks, they will serve you well."
+
+Little One's delicate slippers were already much worn, and she gladly
+exchanged them for the goat-skin shoes; but, strange to relate, no
+sooner had she done so than she found herself flitting over rocks and
+rough places with perfect ease, and at such speed, that, when she
+looked back, in a moment, she had already left the old woman far
+behind, and out of sight. They were magical shoes; but, no matter how
+fast they skimmed over the ground, Dorel, out of pure love, continued
+to go before, talking and laughing and smoothing the way.
+
+One by one Little One sold her jewels to buy bread, which she shared
+with all the needy she chanced to meet. After many days there
+remained but one gem; and she wept because she had no more to give.
+But, through her tears, she now, for the first time, fancied she could
+see the spires and turrets of her beautiful home, though, as yet, very
+far off.
+
+"How fast I have come!" said she, laughing with delight. "But for
+these magical shoes, and Dorel's pruning-knife, I should have been
+even now struggling at the foot of the hill."
+
+Then she looked down at her torn dress.
+
+"What a sad plight I am in! no one will know me when I get home!"
+
+"Never fear!" said the fairy: "you are sure to be welcome."
+
+Little One now held up her last jewel in the sunlight, while a
+starving boy looked at it with eager eyes.
+
+"Take it!" said she, weeping with the tenderest pity. "I only wish
+it were a diamond instead of a ruby,--a diamond as large as my heart!"
+
+    [Illustration: THE LOST SYLPHID. Page 95.]
+
+The boy blessed her with a tremulous voice. Little One pressed on,
+singing softly to herself, till she came to a frightful chasm, full of
+water.
+
+"How shall I ever cross it!" she cried in alarm.
+
+"May I help you, fair Sylphid?" said the grateful boy to whom she had
+given her last jewel. "I can make a bridge in the twinkling of an
+eye."
+
+So saying, he threw across the roaring torrent a film which looked as
+frail as any spider's web.
+
+"It will bear you," said the Whisper: "do not be afraid!"
+
+So Little One ventured upon the gossamer bridge, which was to the eye
+as delicate as mist; but to the feet as strong as adamant. She hushed
+her fears, and walked over it with a stout heart.
+
+Now, she was on the borders of the Summer-land. Here were the turrets
+and spires, the soft white clouds, the green fields, and sunny
+streams. Instantly her long-lost wings appeared again; and she spread
+them like a happy bird, and flew home. Oh, it was worth years of
+longing and pain! She was held in tender embraces, and kissed lovingly
+by well-remembered friends. To her great surprise and delight, her
+father and mother were both there--they had arrived at the Summer-land
+while seeking their Little One.
+
+"Now I know," said her father, "that my daughter was not dreaming when
+she longed for her remembered home."
+
+Little One looked at her soiled dress; but the stains had disappeared;
+and, most wonderful! all the jewels she had worn on her neck and
+arms, and in her girdle, were there yet, burning with increased
+brilliancy. Little One gazed again, and counted to see if any were
+missing. Yes: two she had sold for bread were not there. It was the
+jewels she had _given away_ which had come back in some mysterious
+manner and were more resplendent than before.
+
+"Ah!" said she, with a beaming smile, "now I know what it means when
+they say, 'All you give, you will carry with you.' It was delightful
+to scatter my gems by the wayside; but I did not think they would all
+be given back to me when I reached home!"
+
+Then, intwining arms with a bright sylphid, she flew with her over the
+gardens in a trance of delight.
+
+"Here," said Little One, "is my own dear garden. I remember the border
+and the paths right well; but it never bore such golden fruit, it
+never glowed with such beautiful flowers."
+
+"Your fairy, the one you call Whisper, has taken care of it for your
+sake," said the sister sylphid. "Do you know that those flowers, and
+those trees with fruit like 'bonny beaten gold,' have been watered by
+your tears, Little One? It is in this way they have attained their
+matchless beauty and grace."
+
+"_My tears_, little sister?"
+
+"Yes, your tears. Every one you shed upon earth, your fairy most
+carefully preserved; and see what wonders have been wrought!"
+
+"If I had known that," said Little One clapping her hands, "I would
+have been _glad_ of all my troubles! I would have smiled through my
+tears!"
+
+Now I know no more than I have told of this story of the Lost
+Sylphid. I tell the tale as 'twas told to me; and I wish, with all my
+heart, it were true.
+
+
+
+
+THE CASTLE OF GEMS.
+
+
+Once upon a time, though I cannot tell when, and in what country I do
+not now remember, there lived a maiden as fair as a lily, as gentle as
+a dewdrop, and as modest as a violet. A pure, sweet name she had,--it
+was Blanche.
+
+She stood one evening, with her friend Victor, by the shore of a lake.
+Never had the youth or maiden seen the moonlight so enchanting; but
+they did not know
+
+    "It was midsummer day,
+    When all the fairy people
+    From elf-land come away."
+
+Presently, while they gazed at the lake, which shone like liquid
+emerald and sapphire and topaz, a boat, laden with strangely
+beautiful beings, glided towards them across the waters. The fair
+voyagers were clad in robes of misty blue with white mantles about
+their waists, and on their heads wreaths of valley-lilies.
+
+They were all as fair as need be; but fairest of all was the
+helms-woman, the queen of the fairies. Her face was soft and clear
+like moonlight; and she wore a crown of nine large diamonds, which
+refracted the evening rays, and formed nine lunar rainbows.
+
+The fairies were singing a roundelay; and, as the melody floated over
+the waters, Victor and Blanche listened with throbbing hearts. Fairy
+music has almost passed away from the earth; but those who hear it are
+strangely moved, and have dreams of beautiful things which have been,
+and may be again.
+
+"It makes me think of the days of long ago when there was no sin,"
+whispered Blanche.
+
+"It makes me long to be a hero," answered Victor with a sparkling eye.
+
+All the while the pearly boat was drifting toward the youth and
+maiden; and, when it had touched the shore, the queen stepped out upon
+the land as lightly as if she had been made entirely of dewdrops.
+
+"I am Fontana," said she; "and is this Blanche?"
+
+She laid her soft hand upon the maiden's shoulder; and Blanche thought
+she would like to die then and there, so full was she of joy.
+
+"I have heard of thy good heart, my maiden: now what would please thee
+most?" said the queen.
+
+Blanche bowed her head, and dared not speak.
+
+Queen Fontana smiled: when she smiled it was as if a soft cloud had
+slid away from the moon, revealing a beautiful light.
+
+"Say pearls and diamonds," said Victor in her ear.
+
+"I don't know," whispered Blanche: "they are not the best things."
+
+"No," said the queen kindly: "pearls and diamonds are _not_ the best
+things."
+
+Then Blanche knew that her whisper had been overheard, and she hid her
+face in her hands for shame. But the queen only smiled down on her,
+and, without speaking, dropped into the ground a little seed. Right at
+the feet of Blanche, it fell; and, in a moment, two green leaves shot
+upward, and between them a spotless lily, which hung its head with
+modest grace.
+
+Victor gazed at the perfect flower in wonder, and, before he knew it,
+said aloud, "Ah, how like Blanche!"
+
+The queen herself broke it from the stem, and gave it to the maiden,
+saying,--
+
+"Take it! it is my choicest gift. Till it fades (which will never be),
+love will be thine; and, in time to come, it will have power to open
+the strongest locks, and swing back the heaviest doors.
+
+    "'Gates of brass cannot withstand
+    One touch of this magic wand.'"
+
+Blanche looked up to thank the queen; but no words came,--only tears.
+
+"I see a wish in thine eyes," said Fontana.
+
+"It is for Victor," faltered Blanche, at last: "he wishes to be rich
+and great."
+
+The queen looked grave.
+
+"Shall I make him one of the great men of the earth, little Blanche?
+Then he may one day go to the ends of the world, and forget thee."
+
+Blanche only smiled, and Victor's cheek flushed.
+
+"I shall be a great man," said he,--"perhaps a prince; but, where I
+go, Blanche shall go: she will be my wife."
+
+"That is well," said the queen: "never forget Blanche, for her love
+will be your dearest blessing."
+
+Then, removing from her girdle a pair of spectacles, she placed them
+in the youth's hand. He drew back in surprise. "Does she take me for
+an old man?" thought he. He had expected a casket of gems at least;
+perhaps a crown.
+
+"Wait," said Fontana: "they are the eyes of Wisdom. When you have
+learned their use, you will not despise my gift. Keep a pure heart,
+and always remember Blanche. And now farewell!"
+
+So saying, she moved on to the boat, floating over the ground as
+softly as a creeping mist.
+
+When Blanche awoke next morning, her first thought was, "Happy are the
+maidens who have sweet dreams!" for she thought she had only been
+wandering in a midsummer's night's dream; so, when she saw her lily in
+the broken pitcher where she had placed it, great was her delight. But
+a change had come over it during the night. It was no longer a common
+lily,--its petals were large pearls, and the green leaves were now
+green emeralds. This strange thing had happened to the flower, that it
+might never fade.
+
+After this, people looked at Blanche, and said, "How is it? she grows
+fairer every day!" and every one loved her; for the human heart has no
+choice but to love what is good and gentle.
+
+As for Victor, he at first put on his spectacles with a scornful
+smile: but, when he had worn them a moment, he found them very
+wonderful things. When he looked through them, he could see people's
+thoughts written out on their faces; he could easily decipher the fine
+writing which you see traced on green leaves; and found there were
+long stories written on pebbles in little black and gray dots.
+
+When he wore the spectacles, he looked so wise, that Blanche hardly
+dared speak to him. She saw that one day he was to become a great man.
+
+At last Victor said he must leave his home, and sail across the seas.
+Tears filled the eyes of Blanche; but the youth whispered,--
+
+"I am going away to find a home for you and me: so adieu, dearest
+Blanche!"
+
+Now Victor thought the ship in which he sailed moved very slowly; for
+he longed to reach the land which he could see through his magic
+spectacles: it was a beautiful kingdom, rich with mines of gold and
+silver.
+
+When the ship touched shore, the streets were lined with people who
+walked to and fro with sad faces. The king's daughter, a beautiful
+young maiden, was very ill; and it was feared she must die.
+
+Victor asked one of the people if there was no hope.
+
+It so happened that this man was the greatest physician in the kingdom
+and he answered,--
+
+"Alas, there is no hope!"
+
+Then Victor went to a distant forest where he knew a healing spring
+was to be found. Very few remembered it was there; and those who had
+seen it did not know of its power to heal disease.
+
+Victor filled a crystal goblet with the precious water, and carried
+it to the palace. The old king shook his head sadly, but consented to
+let the attendants moisten the parched lips of the princess with the
+water, as it could do no harm. Far from doing harm, it wrought a great
+good; and, in time, the royal maiden was restored to health.
+
+Then, for gratitude, the king would have given his daughter to Victor
+for a wife; but Victor remembered Blanche, and knew that no other
+maiden must be bride of his.
+
+Not long after this, the king was lost overboard at sea during a
+storm. Now the people must have a new ruler. They determined to choose
+a wise and brave man; and, young as he was, no man could be found
+braver and wiser than Victor: so the people elected him for their
+king. Thus Fontana's gift of the eyes of Wisdom had made him truly
+"one of the great men of earth."
+
+In her humble home, Blanche dreamed every night of Victor, and hoped
+he would grow good, if he did not become great; and Victor remembered
+Blanche, and knew that her love was his dearest blessing.
+
+"This old palace," thought he, "will never do for my beautiful bride."
+
+So he called together his people, and told them he must have a castle
+of gems. Some of the walls were to be of rubies, some of emeralds,
+some of pearls. There was to be any amount of beaten gold for doors
+and pillars; and the ceilings were to be of milk-white opals, with a
+rosy light which comes and goes.
+
+All was done as he desired; and, when the castle of gems was finished,
+it would need a pen of jasponyx dipped in rainbows to describe it.
+
+Victor thought he would not have a guard of soldiers for his castle,
+but would lock the four golden gates with a magic key, so that no one
+could enter unless the gates should swing back of their own accord.
+
+When the castle of gems was just completed, and not a soul was in it,
+Victor locked the gates with a magic key, and then dropped the key
+into the ocean.
+
+"Now," thought he, "I have done a wise thing. None but the good and
+true can enter my castle of gems. The gates will not swing open for
+men with base thoughts or proud hearts!"
+
+Then he hid himself under the shadow of a tree, and watched the people
+trying to enter. But they were proud men, and so the gates would not
+open.
+
+King Victor laughed, and said to himself,--
+
+"I have done a wise thing with my magic key. How safe I shall be in
+my castle of gems!"
+
+So he stepped out of his hiding-place, and said to the people,--
+
+"None but the good and true can get in."
+
+Then he tried to go in himself; but the gates would not move.
+
+The king bowed his head in shame, and walked back to his old palace.
+
+"Alas!" said he to himself, "wise and great as I am, I thought _I_
+could go in. I see it must be because I am filled with pride. Let me
+hide my face; for what would Blanche say if she knew, that, because my
+heart is proud, I am shut out of my own castle? I am not worthy that
+she should love me; but I hope I shall learn of her to be humble and
+good."
+
+The next day he sailed for the home of his childhood. When Blanche saw
+him, she blushed, and cast down her eyes; but Victor knew they were
+full of tears of joy. He held her hand, and whispered,--
+
+"Will you go with me and be my bride, beautiful Blanche?"
+
+"I will go with you," she answered softly; and Victor's heart
+rejoiced.
+
+All the while Blanche never dreamed that he was a great prince, and
+that the men who came with him were his courtiers.
+
+When they reached Victor's kingdom, and the people shouted "Long live
+the queen!" Blanche veiled her face, and trembled; for Victor
+whispered in her ear that the shouts were for her. And, as the people
+saw her beautiful face through her gossamer veil, they cried all the
+more loudly,--
+
+"Long live Queen Blanche! Thrice welcome, fair lady!"
+
+The sun was sinking in the west, and his rays fell with dazzling
+splendor upon the castle of gems. When Blanche saw the silent, closed
+castle and its golden gates, she remembered the words of Queen
+Fontana, who had said that her lily should have power to "open the
+strongest locks, and swing back the heaviest doors."
+
+Like one walking in a dream, she led Victor toward the resplendent
+castle. She touched, with her lily, the lock which fastened one of the
+gates.
+
+    "Gates of gold could not withstand
+    One touch of that magic wand."
+
+In an instant, the hinges trembled; and the massive door swung open so
+far, that forty people could walk in side by side. Then it slowly
+closed, and locked itself without noise.
+
+One of the people who passed in was the king, whose heart was no
+longer proud. The others, who had entered unwittingly, could not speak
+for wonder. Some of them were poor, and some were lame or blind; but
+all were good and true.
+
+At the rising of the moon a wonderful thing came to pass. The people
+entered the castle of gems, and became beautiful. This was through the
+power of the magic lily.
+
+Now there were no more crooked backs and lame feet and sightless eyes;
+and the king looked at these people, who were beautiful as well as
+good, and declared he would have them live in the castle; and the
+gentlemen should be knights; and the ladies, maids of honor.
+
+To this day Victor and Blanche rule the kingdom; and such is the charm
+of the lily,--so like the pure heart of the queen,--that the people
+are becoming gentle and good.
+
+Until Queen Fontana shall call for the magic spectacles and the lily
+of pearl, it is believed that Victor and Blanche will live in the
+castle of gems, though the time should be a hundred years.
+
+
+
+
+THE ELF OF LIGHT.
+
+A NORSE TALE.
+
+
+In the strange island of Iceland, thrown up, by fire, from the depths
+of the sea, there once lived a lad who worshipped the god Odin, and
+was taught from two absurd books called the Eddas. He wished to fight
+and die on a battle-field, so that his soul might cross a
+rainbow-bridge, and dwell in the beautiful halls of Valhalla.
+There--so the Eddas say--are the chosen heroes, who are forever
+fighting all day, and feasting all night.
+
+Thus, instead of a Bible, young Thule studied wild fairy-tales; yet,
+for all his heathenish training, he had some noble traits, which a
+Christian lad might imitate.
+
+He lived with his widowed mother at the edge of a forest. The snow
+piled itself in drifts, and the wind howled through the trees, and
+crept in at the windows; for the cottage was old, and a blind
+hurricane might almost have mistaken it for a heap of brushwood. But
+Thule was quite as happy as if the hut had been a palace. He loved the
+winter-beauty of his mother's face, and the silvery hair half hidden
+under her black cap. All the fire they burned was made of the dry
+sticks he gathered in the forest, and more than half the money they
+used was earned by his small hands.
+
+In one of the ice-months of the year, when the weather was sharper
+than a serpent's tooth, Thule came home from a hard day's work; and,
+the chillier he grew, the more he whistled to keep up a brave heart.
+Looking at the horizon before him, he saw the cold glare which we call
+Northern Lights, but which he knew to be the flickering of helmets and
+shields and spears.
+
+"The warlike maidens are out to-night," thought the boy: "they are
+going to the battle-fields to decide who is worthy to be slain. How I
+love to see the sky lighted up with the flash of their armor! Odin,
+grant I may one day be a hero, and walk over the bridge of a rainbow!"
+
+Then Thule went to his whistling again; but, just as he struck into
+the forest where the deep shadows lay, he heard a faint moan, which
+sounded like a human voice, or might have been a sudden gust of wind
+in a hollow tree.
+
+"Perchance it is some poor creature even colder than I," thought the
+boy: "I hope not a _troll_!"
+
+Hurrying to the spot whence the sound came, he found an ugly,
+long-nosed dwarf lying on the ground, nearly perishing with cold. It
+was growing late, and the boy himself was benumbed; but he went
+briskly to work, chafing the hands and face of the stranger, even
+taking off his own blue jacket to wrap it about the dwarf's neck.
+
+"Poor old soul, you shall not die of cold!" said he; then, helping him
+to rise, he added cheerily, "We will go to my mother's cottage, and
+have a warm supper of oat-cakes and herrings; and our fire of dry
+boughs will do you good."
+
+The noble boy knew there was barely supper enough for two, but did not
+mind going hungry to bed for charity's sake. In the ear of his heart,
+he heard the words of his mother:--
+
+"Never fear starving, my son, but freely share your last loaf with the
+needy."
+
+They walked through the forest, the old man leaning heavily on the
+youth's shoulder.
+
+"Why should you befriend a poor wretch who cannot repay you?" whined
+the dwarf in a hollow voice which startled Thule, it was so like the
+echo sent back by a mountain or a rock.
+
+"I do not ask or wish to be repaid," was the reply. "Don't you know
+what the proverb says? 'Do good, and throw it into the sea; if the
+fishes don't know it, _Odin_ will!'"
+
+"Yes: Odin shall know it, never fear," answered the dwarf; "but, as I
+happen to be informed that your tea-table is not quite large enough
+for three, I think I will decline your invitation to supper. Really,
+my lad," he continued, "it would delight me to do you a little favor;
+for, though I am only a poor dwarf, I know how to be grateful. By the
+way, have you seen such a thing hereabouts as a green alder-tree?"
+
+"A green alder-tree in winter-time!" cried Thule.
+
+"A curious thing, indeed," said the dwarf; "but I chanced to see one
+the other night in my rambles. Ah! look, here it is right before your
+eyes."
+
+All the other forest-trees were dry and hard, their hearts frozen
+within them; but this tree was alive, hidden behind a clump of firs.
+When Thule began to dig about its roots, it seemed to come out of the
+ground of its own free will, and to lie over his shoulders as if it
+would caress him.
+
+"Take home the little tree, and plant it before your door, my lad."
+
+The youth turned to thank the stranger; but he had vanished. Then
+Thule ran home with all speed to tell his mother of the little old man
+who had faded from his sight like a wreath of smoke.
+
+"Now I wonder what it is you have seen," said the good woman, raising
+her hands in surprise. "Was he brown, my son, with a long nose?"
+
+"As brown as a nut, mother, with no end of nose."
+
+"Just as I supposed, my child! That dwarf is a wonderful
+creature,--one of the night-elves, a race gifted with great
+understanding. Know, my son, that he carves runes upon stones; and he
+no doubt assisted in making Thor's hammer, that terrible instrument
+which can crush the skull of a giant."
+
+"One thing I observed," said the boy: "he blinked at that flashing in
+the sky, which people call Northern Lights; he had to shade his eyes
+with his funny little hand."
+
+"Did he, indeed? Poor Elf! Light is painful to his race; and I have
+even heard that a stroke of sunshine is able to turn them into
+stones. I am almost afraid of this little tree," added the good mother
+musingly. "You know what we read in the holy Eddas: Both the alder and
+the ash trees should be held sacred; for Odin formed man from the ash,
+and woman from the alder. Nevertheless, the night-elf could not have
+meant to do you a mischief. Let us plant the tree as he directed."
+
+"What, in the frozen ground, under the snow?"
+
+But it now, for the first time, appeared that there was a spot of
+earth near the south window, which must have been waiting for the
+tree, since it was as soft and warm as if the sun had been shining on
+it all the year. Here they planted the alder; and Thule brought water,
+and moistened the roots.
+
+Next morning the tree seemed to have grown a foot higher; and by
+daylight its leaves showed a silver lining.
+
+"May Odin favor my pretty alder!" said Thule; "nor let the frost pinch
+it, nor the winds blacken its green buds!"
+
+Thule went into the woods again; and, as he was whistling at his work,
+he happened to look down, and there, on the ground, at his feet, lay a
+purse, well lined with gold. He counted the pieces: fifty, all bright
+and new.
+
+"I will go to the town," thought the boy, shaking his head and sighing
+(for the gold was very tempting), "I will go to the town, and ask who
+has lost a purse with fifty pieces of precious gold. Ah, me! I wish I
+could keep it! then we should swim in herrings and oil; and who knows
+but, for once in my life, I might even get a taste of venison?"
+
+But next moment he loosened his greedy clutch at the purse. "No matter
+how bravely it shines! it is not _my_ gold; and it is too heavy for
+me to carry. Stolen money is worse than a mill-stone about one's neck,
+so my mother says."
+
+"Keep the purse, little boy," said a sweet voice close by his elbow.
+He turned, and saw a beautiful child, as radiant as a sunbeam, and
+clad in garments of delicate and transparent texture.
+
+"I will be your friend, little boy. That purse was dropped by a lady
+who wears a fur cloak and long veil. If she asks for her treasure, I
+can say it fell into a hole in the ground. Everybody believes me:
+never fear!"
+
+"Poor misguided angel!" said the boy, amazed by her wondrous beauty no
+less than by her apparent want of truth. "You are, indeed, a lovely
+little tempter; but I have a dear mother at home, and I love her
+better than a million pieces of gold. I must go to the town, and seek
+out this lady you mention, who wears a fur cloak and long veil."
+
+"Nay, if you will be so stupid," said the shining child, "why, I will
+even go with you, and show you the way."
+
+So, gliding gracefully before the bewildered youth, she led him out of
+the forest, into the most crowded part of the city, up to the door of
+a splendid mansion; but, when Thule turned his head only an instant,
+she was gone, and no trace of her was to be seen: she seemed to have
+melted into sunshine.
+
+The lady of the house received the purse with thanks, and would gladly
+have given Thule a piece of the gold; but, much as the boy longed for
+it, he put it aside, saying, "No, madam: my mother assures me I must
+be honest without the hope of reward. She would not like me to take
+wages for not being a thief!"
+
+The next morning the alder-tree had grown another foot; and Thule and
+his mother watched the growing leaves, and touched them with reverent
+fingers. They were certainly of a tender green, lined with shining
+silver.
+
+"May Odin favor my pretty alder!" said Thule; "nor let the frost pinch
+it, nor the winds blacken its green buds!"
+
+Then Thule kissed his mother, and trudged off to the forest as usual.
+But he seemed doomed to adventures; for this time he was met by three
+armed men, who were roaming the country as if seeking something.
+
+"Prithee, little urchin," said one of the men, "can you tell us what
+has become of a young alder-tree, whose green leaves are lined with
+silver?"
+
+"I dug up an alder-bush, kind sirs," replied the boy, trembling, and
+remembering that his mother had said she was almost afraid of that
+little tree.
+
+"There are many alder-bushes," said another of the men gruffly; "but
+only one is green at this time of year, and has silver-lined leaves.
+It was placed here by command of the giant Loki, and no one was to
+touch it under pain of death; for, when his mountain-garden should be
+laid out in the spring, the tree was to be uprooted, and planted
+therein."
+
+Thule grew almost as stiff and white as if a frost-giant had suddenly
+breathed on him. He knew that Loki was a pitiless god, feared by all,
+and beloved by none,--a god who had an especial grudge against the
+whole human race.
+
+"I will hold my peace," thought Thule. "I will never confess that the
+tree I carried away has silver-lined leaves. I will hasten home, pluck
+up the bush, and burn it: then who will be the wiser?"
+
+But Thule, in spite of his trembling, could not forget his good
+mother's counsel:--
+
+"Your words, my boy, let them be truth, and nothing but truth, though
+a sword should be swinging over your head."
+
+Then, as soon as his voice returned to him, he confessed that the tree
+he had removed was really just such an one as the men described, and
+begged for mercy, because, as he said, he had committed the sin
+ignorantly, not knowing the mandate of the terrible giant.
+
+But the men bade Thule lead them to his mother's house, and point out
+his stolen treasure; declaring that they could show no mercy; for,
+when Loki had made a decree, no man should alter it by one jot or one
+tittle.
+
+"Oh!" thought the unfortunate boy, wringing his hands, and trembling
+till the woollen tassel on his cap danced a gallopade, "oh, if the
+cruel night-elf, who led me into this mischief, would only come
+forward now, and help me out of it! But, alas, it is of no avail to
+invoke him; for it is now broad daylight, and the sun would strike him
+into a stone image in a twinkling."
+
+When Thule, followed by the messengers of Loki, had reached the door
+of his cottage, he found his gray-haired mother sprinkling the roots
+of the beautiful alder, and fondling its leaves with innocent
+pleasure. At sight of the armed men, she started back in affright.
+
+"It is indeed the giant's tree," said the men to Thule. "Pluck it up,
+and follow us with it to Loki's castle on the mountain."
+
+"To Loki's castle!" shrieked the wretched mother. "Then he must pass
+a frightful wilderness, be assailed by the frost-giants; and, if there
+be any breath left in him, Loki will dash it out at a glance! Have
+mercy on a poor old mother, O good soldiers!"
+
+The unhappy boy touched the tree, and it came out of the ground of its
+own free will; and, in a trice, stood on its feet, shook out its
+branches into arms, and in another moment was no longer a tree, but a
+child, with a beauty as dazzling as sunshine.
+
+"Unfortunate men!" said she, in a voice whose angriest tones were
+sweeter than the music of an AEolian harp, "unfortunate are you in
+being the servants of Loki! Go, tell your cruel master that the
+schemes he has plotted against me and mine have all failed: my
+enchantment is over forever. Yonder boy," said she, pointing to little
+Thule, "has saved me. I was, and still remain, an elf of light, as
+playful and harmless as sunshine. The merciless Loki, enraged at the
+love I bear the children of men, changed me to a little alder-tree,
+which is the emblem of girlhood. But he had no power to keep me in
+that form forever. He was obliged to make a condition, and he made the
+hardest one that his artful mind could invent: 'Since you love mortals
+so dearly,' said he, 'no one but a mortal shall free you from your
+imprisonment. You shall remain a tree till a good child shall touch
+you,--a child who is generous enough to SHARE HIS LAST LOAF WITH A
+STRANGER, honest enough to GIVE BACK A REWARD FOR HIS HONESTY, brave
+enough to SPEAK THE TRUTH WHEN A LIE WOULD HAVE SAVED HIS LIFE. Long
+shall you wait for such a deliverer!'
+
+"Now how amazed will Loki be when he learns that this little boy has
+been tempted in all these particulars, yet proves true. My poor
+soldiers, you may return whence you came, for the alder-tree will
+never rustle its silver leaves in the mountain-garden of Loki."
+
+Then the men disappeared, not sorry that the good boy had escaped his
+threatened doom.
+
+Thule, looking at the beautiful elf so lately a tree, could hardly
+trust his own eyes; and I fancy that many a boy, even at the present
+day, would have felt rather bewildered under the circumstances.
+
+"Shining child!" said he: "you look vastly like the wonderful little
+being who led me out of the forest yesterday."
+
+"That may well be," replied the elf of light; "for she is my sister.
+The brown dwarf who pointed out to you the alder-tree is also an
+excellent friend of mine, though, strange to say, I have never seen
+him. We love to aid each other in all possible ways; yet we can never
+meet, for there is a fatality in my eyes which would strike him dead.
+He had heard of Thule, the little woodcutter who was called so brave
+and generous and true. He tried you, you see; and so did my frolicsome
+sister, who was fairly ablaze with delight when she found you could
+not be tempted to steal!"
+
+Thule's mother had stood all the while on the threshold, overawed and
+dumb. Now she came forward, and said,--
+
+"I am prouder to-day than I should be if my son had slain ten men on
+the battle-field!"
+
+The beautiful elf of light, penetrated with gratitude and admiration,
+remained Thule's fast friend as long as he lived. She gave the lad
+and his mother an excellent home, and made them happy all the days of
+their lives.
+
+
+
+
+THE PRINCESS HILDA.
+
+
+Princess Hildegarde sat at an open window, looking out upon her garden
+of flowers. She was very beautiful, with a face as fair and sweet as a
+rose. Not far off sat, watching her, her young cousin Zora, with a
+frown on her brow.
+
+There was bitter hatred in Zora's heart because Hildegarde was rich
+and she was poor; because Hildegarde would, in time, be a queen, and
+she one of her subjects. Moreover, Hildegarde was so beautiful and
+good that the fame of her loveliness had spread far and wide; and it
+was for her beauty that Zora hated her more than for any thing else.
+
+In childhood Zora had been very fair; and the courtiers had petted
+her, and pronounced her even fairer than the princess; but her beauty
+had never meant any thing but bright eyes and cherry cheeks: so it
+could not last. If she had only cherished pure thoughts and kind
+wishes, she might still have been as lovely as Hilda; but who does not
+know that evil feelings write themselves on the face?
+
+Jealousy had pulled her mouth down at the corners; deceit had given it
+a foolish smirk; spite had plowed an ugly frown in her brow; while she
+had tried so many arts to make her rich brown skin as delicately white
+as Hilda's, that it was changed to the tint of chrome yellow.
+
+It was said in those days, that Zora was in the power of wicked
+fairies, who twisted her features into the shape that pleased them
+best.
+
+At any rate, how the amiable Princess Hilda was to blame for all
+these deformities it would be hard to say; and she little dreamed of
+the malice in her cousin's heart.
+
+But, while Hilda was looking out of the window, a noble knight passed
+that way; and so delighted was he with the rare sweetness of her face,
+that he forgot himself, and paused a moment to gaze at her. The
+princess blushed, and let fall the silken curtain; but Zora had seen
+the knight, and knew he was the royal Prince Reginald. She ground her
+teeth in rage; for she had determined that the prince should never see
+her beautiful cousin.
+
+"They shall not meet," said she to herself: "no, not if there are bad
+fairies enough to prevent it."
+
+But, when the princess looked up, Zora was smiling very sweetly. Who
+could have dreamed that she was thinking of nothing but how to ruin
+the peace of her gentle cousin?
+
+Zora could hardly wait for nightfall, so eager was she to do her
+wicked work. When it was dark, and all was quiet, she stole out of the
+castle, wearing a black mantle which hid her face.
+
+"Now," thought she, "no one can recognize me, and I will seek the
+fairy Gerula."
+
+You must know that Gerula was one of the most wicked and hideous
+sprites that ever existed. She dwelt in a cave far from the abodes of
+men. It was hidden by huge trees through which the wind never ceased
+howling. At evening owls hooted overhead, and many creeping things
+wound their length along the ground. The more toads and snakes she
+could see about her, the better was she pleased; for fairies, as well
+as mortals, are attracted by what is akin to themselves.
+
+She was descended from a race called kobolds or goblins; and she loved
+all the metals which lie under the earth as well as the living things
+which crawl up out of its bosom.
+
+So acute were her ears, that she heard Zora's steps from a great
+distance. She brushed back her elf-locks, and gave a low grunt like
+some wild beast. It pleased her that the Lady Zora should find need of
+her counsel; but, when Zora had reached the cave, the cunning fairy
+pretended to be sleeping, and started up in seeming surprise.
+
+"What brings a body here at this time of night?" said she.
+
+"I am Lady Zora. I have come, sweet fairy, to beg a favor. The
+Princess Hilda is hateful to me: work one of your charms on her, and
+let me see her face no more."
+
+The old fairy pricked up her ears and said to herself, "Ha! ha! I
+will have nice sport out o' this!" then said aloud, "Say, what harm
+has the princess done to my rosebud, my lily, my pride?"
+
+Zora's eyes flashed. "Prince Reginald has seen her; and to see her is
+to love her. My heart is set on wedding Prince Reginald. Take her out
+of his way!"
+
+Just then a broad gleam of moonlight fell on the treacherous maiden.
+It was strange how much she looked like the cruel fairy; and Gerula
+gazed on her with delight.
+
+"My beautiful viper!" said she, using the sweetest pet-name she could
+think of, "I will do your bidding. But first say what you will give me
+if I put Hildegarde out of your way."
+
+Then she chuckled, and rubbed her hands in great glee. Zora started
+back in alarm.
+
+"I did not know you sold your charms for gold; but I would give you
+half my fortune if need be, any thing, to be rid of Hilda."
+
+The fairy chuckled again. "Just the damsel for me," thought she.
+
+"I will give you a diamond necklace," said Zora: "it is worth a small
+kingdom, and was given me by my cousin Hilda. You can surely ask no
+more?"
+
+"Diamonds!" said the goblin, snapping her fingers. "What think you I
+care for them? Do I not tire of stooping to pick them up? for they are
+given me by my cousins, the gnomes, any day. No diamonds for me! Keep
+them and your gold. I ask but one thing, my dear."
+
+Here she spoke in low hissing tones, more terrible than her loudest
+croakings.
+
+"Promise me, if you do not marry Prince Reginald, you will let me
+change you into a charming green snake."
+
+"Alas!" cried Zora, turning pale, "who ever heard of such a cruel
+request?"
+
+"Cruel, am I?" said the goblin in delight. "Oh, I must seem cruel to
+one who is so gentle and lovely as Hilda!"
+
+"Alas," cried Zora, "I may fail to win Prince Reginald."
+
+"All the better," chuckled the fairy. "When you become a snake, you
+and I shall enjoy each other's society, I assure you."
+
+Zora shuddered.
+
+"But it's all one to me," added the goblin, beginning to yawn. "On the
+whole, I think you may as well go home."
+
+Zora wrung her hands, and groaned.
+
+"Yes," said the gnome: "go back to the castle. Ugh! I would sooner
+trust one of my winking owls to do a daring deed than you! Fie upon
+you! Creep back to your bed, and let Hilda marry the prince: a lovely
+pair they will make. Off with you, for I have to make up my sleep I
+have lost."
+
+But Zora was thinking.
+
+"I am silly indeed!" she said to herself. "Why do I fear that I shall
+not win the love of Prince Reginald? Only Hilda stands in my way."
+Then she said aloud,--
+
+"Lovely being! sweetest of all the race! Great as is my horror, I will
+consent to your will."
+
+Just then was heard a crackling in the dry leaves.
+
+"Only a snake," said the goblin. Zora trembled.
+
+"Will you promise me that Hilda will never trouble me again?"
+
+"I promise," said the goblin, with one of her merriest laughs, as
+loud and hoarse as the song of a frog.
+
+Just then a sigh was heard not far from the place where Zora stood.
+"There is some one here: we are watched," she whispered. But Gerula
+thought it the howling of the wind; for she was busily musing over the
+charm she was about to obtain of her cousins, the gnomes, and her eyes
+and ears were not as sharp as usual.
+
+She took from the ground her crooked staff.
+
+"Hush," said she; "if the sky were to fall on your head, you are not
+to speak; for now begins the charm."
+
+Then she drew a circle three times on the ground, with her staff, and
+said in low tones,--
+
+    "Hither, ye cousins, that come at my call:
+      The princess is young and fair;
+    Mix me a charm that shall bring her to woe
+      Spin me your vilest snare."
+
+A mist arose, in which Zora could see dim figures, one after another.
+Zora held her breath. Gerula muttered again in low tones,--
+
+    "Hilda is gentle, and dreams of no guile;
+      The little gnomes sit and weep;
+    'Make her,--if _must_ be,--a snowy wee lamb,
+      In the fold with her father's sheep.'"
+
+Zora clapped her hands in delight. But just then, a faint sound was
+heard, as of some one talking between the teeth. Then Zora spoke, and
+the charm was broken. She did not intend to speak; but asked, "What
+noise was that?" before she thought.
+
+"You have broken the charm," said the fairy. "The soft-hearted gnomes
+are unwilling to punish Hilda; but I hoped, by my craft, I could force
+them to keep her a lamb forever; or, at most, to let her grow to a
+sheep, and die by the knife.
+
+"I will now weave a new charm; but I fear me they will repent; and
+Hilda will not be got out of the way, after all. Not a word more, I
+warn you."
+
+So saying, the goblin made another circle three times, on the ground,
+and again muttered,--
+
+    "How long is fair Hilda a snowy wee lamb?
+      The little gnomes cry, 'We fear
+    Till comes a brave lion so tender and true,
+      She lives by his side a year.'"
+
+Zora clapped her hands again. "That is well," said she, "for never was
+a lion seen who could let a little helpless lamb pass his way without
+tearing it in pieces."
+
+"True," said the gnome, well pleased, "it has worked well. Hilda will
+never trouble you again: so creep home softly, and go to your rest:
+dream of bats and creeping snakes; and to-morrow, at sunrise, ask
+your cousin to walk with you in the park. Now adieu!"
+
+"Adieu, sweetest and best of fairies!" said Zora, drawing her silken
+mantle closely about her face. As she left the hideous cave, snakes
+hissed after her, and a bat flew in her face; but she had sold herself
+to evil, and walked on without fear of the creatures she so strongly
+resembled.
+
+Next morning, at the first peep of the sun, she cried, "Awake, dearest
+Hilda, joy of my life, and walk with me in the park. I have lost my
+diamond necklace; and last night I dreamed it was lying in the grass."
+
+So Princess Hildegarde opened her eyes, and hastened to follow her
+cousin; for her heart was quickly moved to any act of kindness.
+
+"What a fine flock of sheep!" cried Hilda, as they were walking in
+the park. "Such innocent"----
+
+She would have said more, but the words on her tongue were suddenly
+changed to tender bleatings; and even as Zora stood looking at her,
+she crouched down on all fours, dwindled in size, was enveloped in
+white fleece, and became a dumb lamb.
+
+Overwhelmed with horror and surprise, she raised her pleading, tearful
+eyes to the face of her cousin. But Zora gave a mocking laugh, and
+said, pointing her finger at her,--
+
+"Who now is the heir of the throne? Will they set the royal crown on a
+sheep's head, think you? Bravo, sweet creature! You may stand now
+between me and Prince Reginald as much as you please. It's all my
+work. I tell you once for all, I hate you, Hildegarde."
+
+Was this Zora's return for her cousin's love? The princess would fain
+have expressed her grief and amazement.
+
+"Pray don't try to talk, my bonny wee thing! It is not one of your
+gifts, at present. Your voice has ceased to be musical. I can sing now
+as well as you. Go to nibbling grass, deary, and a long life to you!"
+
+Then the treacherous Zora turned on her heel, and left her poor cousin
+to her mute despair.
+
+A search was made far and wide for the missing princess. Forests were
+hunted, rivers were dragged; but without avail. Deep gloom fell on the
+people, and the queen nearly died of sorrow. They all believed Hilda
+dead, all but Zora, who knew too well her cruel fate.
+
+Then Zora was treated like the king's daughter. Wherever she went,
+there were servants to follow her; yet none loved her, and behind her
+back they made wry faces, and said she looked like one who was
+tormented by evil fairies.
+
+But, alas for Zora, nothing more was seen of Prince Reginald. She
+watched the windows day after day, hoping to see him ride by on his
+coal-black steed; but he never came. Then she grew crosser than ever,
+and the frown on her brow ploughed deeper still. She dreamed every
+night of horrible goblins and slender green snakes.
+
+All the while, poor Hildegarde roamed about the park. The other lambs
+were content to nip the sweet grass, and frisk in the sun; but the
+princess remembered something better, for her soul did not sleep.
+
+The king himself, in his walks, was struck with the beauty of the
+lamb; its fleece was far softer, finer, and whiter than was common.
+He said to his chief shepherd, "Watch well yonder snow-white lamb, and
+give it particular care."
+
+For there was something in its soft dark eyes, as they were raised to
+his face, which stirred the king's heart, though he knew not why.
+
+One day the city was thrown into a great tumult. A lion had been seen
+in the thicket which bordered the park. The huntsmen, hearing of it,
+stole out privately to waylay him in a snare. He was caught alive by
+the king's favorite huntsman. It was agreed that such a fine lion had
+never been seen before; and the king ordered a strong iron cage for
+the beast, and made his favorite huntsman his keeper.
+
+Now the cage was in the midst of the park; and such was the terror of
+the sheep and deer, that none of them went near it.
+
+"I will go," thought poor Hildegarde; "let the lion tear me in
+pieces. Sooner would I perish, than live on, a poor wee lamb all my
+days."
+
+So she went up to the cage, though with a faint heart; but the lion
+put his paw out of the bars, and stroked her face, as if he would bid
+her welcome. The keeper reported the fact with great surprise.
+
+It may be that the beautiful brown eyes of the lamb tamed the fierce
+spirit of the lion; for they were human eyes, full of Hildegarde's own
+soul. Be that as it may, the lamb went every day to the cage, till the
+lion learned to watch for her, and gave a low growl of joy when he saw
+her coming. At last the keeper ventured to drop her carefully into the
+cage. The lion was beside himself with joy; and, after that, the lamb
+was placed in the cage every morning, and only taken out at night.
+
+Then the king invited all the noblemen into his park, to see the
+strange sight of a lion and a lamb living together in peace. And all
+the while Hildegarde loved her shaggy companion, and asked herself
+every day how it could be that a lion should have such speaking eyes
+and such a tender heart. But she almost believed that he was a human
+being, shut up, like herself, in a cruel disguise.
+
+At last, when a whole year had gone by, the time came for Hilda to be
+disenchanted; for the good little gnomes had declared that if she
+could live for a twelvemonth in peace with a lion, the charm would
+then be at an end.
+
+Hilda did not know this; but awoke at sunrise, and, going to drink,
+saw the image of her old self in the fountain; and faint voices
+repeated in chorus these lines:--
+
+    "Thrice welcome, sweet Hilda! the little gnomes say
+      At sunrise their charms shall end;
+    So go to the lion, and open the cage;
+      The prince is your own true friend."
+
+This was so sudden and unexpected that the happy Hilda could hardly
+believe her senses. She gazed at her jewelled fingers; she touched her
+velvet robe. "It is Hildegarde," said she dreamily; "where has she
+stayed so long?"
+
+She went to the cage; and, finding the key hanging on the outside,
+would fain have freed the poor lion, but thought of the terror it
+would cause the sheep and deer, and dared not do it.
+
+She put her soft white arms within the bars, saying,--
+
+"You have been a true friend to the little white lamb. She has found
+her tongue again, and can say so. Kind old lion, gentle prisoner,
+Hildegarde will not forget you."
+
+The noble beast looked at the disenchanted princess, and the next
+instant was changed to his true form; and, in place of a tawny lion,
+it was the brave Prince Reginald. Hilda blushed with joyful surprise,
+and would have taken down the key to unlock the cage, but the prince
+said,--
+
+"Loveliest Hildegarde, will you be my bride? Speak before you unlock
+the cage; for, if you say nay, Reginald must again become a dumb
+beast, and, as he has been for a year, so will he be for the rest of
+his days."
+
+Hildegarde cast down her eyes, and answered, "If so be the lion and
+the lamb could live side by side for a year, may not Reginald and
+Hilda dwell together in peace?"
+
+"Then," said the joyful Prince Reginald, "I pray thee unlock the
+cage."
+
+Now, as they walked together in the park, the prince told Hildegarde
+that he had loved her for a twelvemonth and a day.
+
+He described Zora's visit to the cruel goblin. He said that he himself
+had overheard the two talking together, had ground his teeth, and
+sighed. Then the gnomes, seeing his grief, had come asking him if he
+would be changed for a year, and maybe for life, into a lion; and for
+Hildegarde's sake he had gladly consented.
+
+Hearing all these things, the grateful princess wept, and said,--
+
+"Now I know that Prince Reginald is my own true friend."
+
+The prince led Hilda to the palace, and presented her to the king and
+queen. Great was the wonder, and loud the rejoicing throughout the
+land.
+
+The treacherous Zora was seen no more, but was changed into a slender
+green snake; and the king said she deserved her fate; "for, mark
+you," cried he, "there is no crime worse than to play false to those
+whom we pretend to love."
+
+But Prince Reginald and Hildegarde were married, and lived in peace
+all the rest of their lives.
+
+
+
+
+GOLDILOCKS.
+
+
+    "A king lived long ago,
+    In the morning of the world,"
+
+who had two children, Despard and Goldilocks. They were twin brother
+and sister, but no more alike than a queen-lily and a nightshade, a
+raven and a dove.
+
+Goldilocks was a bright young damsel, with hair like fine threads of
+gold, and a face so radiant that people questioned if the blood in her
+veins might not be liquid sunshine. Her eyes were as soft as violets;
+and her laugh was like the music of a spring robin.
+
+Despard, on the other hand, was as melancholy as an owl. His raven
+hair cast gloomy shadows, and his mournful eyes pierced you with a
+sudden sorrow. He was too low-spirited to chase butterflies, weave
+daisy-chains, and dance with Goldilocks among the flowers. He liked
+better to play at a mimic funeral, and deck himself as chief mourner,
+in a friar's robe with sable plumes. He could never understand why
+laughing Goldilocks should object to making believe die, and be buried
+in the large jewel-coffer, which stood for a tomb.
+
+He always said that, if he lived to be a man, he should grow all the
+more wretched, and creep over the earth like a great black cloud. When
+Despard spoke so hopelessly, Goldilocks paused in her song or her
+play, and stealthily brushed a rare tear from her eye. She was afraid
+her brother's words might prove true.
+
+These children lived in what is called the Golden Age, when the
+rivers flowed with milk and wine, and yellow honey dripped from
+oak-trees. Their childhood would probably have lasted forever; but the
+Silver Age came on, and every thing was changed. Then, it was
+sometimes too warm, and sometimes too cold. People began to live in
+caves, and weave houses of twigs. The king, their father, died, and
+went, so it was said, to the "Isles of the Blessed."
+
+The children were shipwrecked upon a foreign shore, all because of a
+sudden swell of the ocean. Here they were desolate and homesick. The
+strange people among whom they had fallen did not know they were the
+children of a king. No one was left to care for them but their old
+nurse, named Sibyl.
+
+This aged woman was growing lame, and her hair was gray; yet she loved
+the twins, and would spin all the day long, to buy black bread for
+them, and now and then a little choice fruit.
+
+"Alas," she sighed, "alas, for the Golden Age, when the forests had
+never been robbed, when oxen were not called to draw the plough, and
+the beautiful earth laughed, and tossed up fruit and flowers without
+waiting to be asked!"
+
+The frocks that Sibyl made for Goldilocks were coarse; but on fair
+spring days she took from the chest a delicate, rosy robe, embroidered
+with gold, and smiled to see how it adorned the child.
+
+But as for Despard, she had no hope that he would ever look well in
+any thing. She would part Goldilocks' wonderful hair, and say,--
+
+"Old Sibyl knows who is her love; she knows who would be glad to give
+her pomegranates and grapes, when she is too old to spin, and too weak
+to sit up."
+
+Little Goldilocks would laughingly reply,--
+
+"And I know, too: when I am a woman I shall weave a net of my hair,
+and fish up all the gold that has sunk to the beds of the rivers. Then
+I know who will have a set of hard gold teeth, and a silver
+rocking-chair."
+
+"Thou art lovely enough to be a goddess, little Goldilocks. And what
+wilt thou do with the rest of the gold?"
+
+"Oh, Despard shall have all he can carry; for Despard is good, let
+people say what they may. And I will have a crown made for him, with
+diamonds set in it as plenty as plums in a pudding."
+
+"Listen, my children," said the old Sibyl, sadly: "there will be no
+one to give me grapes and pomegranates when I am faint and weak. I can
+read by the stars that you are soon to go on a pilgrimage, and leave
+your old nurse behind. You may well weep, my good little boy: there is
+to be no rest for your feet till you have travelled over the whole
+world, from north to south."
+
+Despard groaned aloud; but Goldilocks clapped her hands and laughed.
+"Oh, let us start to-night," she cried.
+
+"When the sun-god has made twelve journeys in his winged boat," sighed
+Sibyl, "and when the young moon has arisen out of the ocean, then you
+may go."
+
+And, at the appointed time, the faithful nurse, with many tears,
+prepared her foster-children for their long journey. She took from a
+worm-eaten coffer some family heirlooms, which had been lying since
+the days of the Golden Age, enveloped in rose-leaves and gold paper.
+
+She placed in the hand of Despard a dagger with a jewelled hilt, a
+quiver of poisoned arrows, and a glittering sword, with a blade
+sharper than a serpent's tooth.
+
+But to Goldilocks she gave a flask of smooth, fragrant oil, a vase of
+crystal-bright water, and a fan made of the feathers of the beautiful
+bird of Paradise.
+
+Kissing the little pilgrims, she said,--
+
+"These gifts have been saved for you these many years: use them as an
+inward voice shall whisper you: I give you my blessing. The gods
+attend you! Farewell."
+
+The children at first walked on sorrowfully; but soon the gay spirits
+of Goldilocks rebounded, and she waltzed hither and thither, like a
+morsel of thistle-down.
+
+"See, brother," said she, "we almost fly! What a glorious thing it is
+to go on a pilgrimage! I am glad the beautiful Silver Age has come,
+and Jupiter has given us leave to take a peep at the world!"
+
+"All very well for you to say," moaned Despard; "you flit about as if
+you had wings on your feet; while, as for me, it is true I move with
+equal speed, but so painfully that I wonder my footprints are not
+stained with blood."
+
+Soon the children observed, not far off, a party of youths rowing on
+the bosom of a lake. They sat in a rocking, unsteady little bark, but
+were in gay spirits, blowing bubbles, watching idle clouds, and
+throwing up empty shouts to be caught up and echoed by the hills.
+
+"I wish we had not seen these happy people," sighed Despard; "for, if
+you can believe me, sister, I really feel as if I must pelt them with
+my arrows."
+
+So saying, little Despard began to fire his poisonous darts at random.
+
+"Why, brother," cried Goldilocks, in alarm, "are you possessed by the
+furies? Take care how you aim, or you will surely do mischief."
+
+Even as she spoke, several of the gay youths dropped to the bottom of
+the boat, apparently wounded. Their companions pushed for the shore;
+and Goldilocks almost flew, to pour into the red wounds her brother
+had made the smooth healing oil from her flask.
+
+"Poor dears," said she, pitying their pain, "I have done my best; and,
+see! these ugly gashes are almost healed. I cannot promise you,
+though, that they will not leave scars."
+
+The youths thanked the sweet girl, and assured her it was almost a
+pleasure to be wounded, if one might be nursed by such gentle hands as
+hers. But as for Despard, it was hardly strange that they should look
+upon the poor boy as a wicked little highwayman; or, at best, a saucy,
+careless fellow.
+
+Some of the older youths, however, patted him on the shoulder, and
+said, "For your sweet sister's sake we can even endure your pranks."
+
+"Do not despise me," said the boy, sadly; "for as I am moved, so must
+I do. Not for the whole world would I fire a poisonous arrow, if the
+mighty Jove did not compel me."
+
+As they walked on, Despard, against his will, flung into the air a
+quantity of winged torments, which he found stowed away in his wallet,
+such as gnats, wasps, and flies.
+
+"There, now," said sweet Goldilocks, ready to weep, "why could you not
+look before you, and see those pretty children playing yonder in that
+fragrant meadow?"
+
+"I saw them," said Despard; "but what good did that do?"
+
+"O brother, I wish the Golden Age would come again, and then you
+would cease scattering mischief and trouble."
+
+The little ones, suddenly stopped in their play by the army of
+insects, ran hither and thither over the meadow, screaming with pain.
+But Goldilocks appeared in the midst of them, with her shining hair,
+violet eyes, and laugh like the music of a spring robin.
+
+"Come to me," said she; "let me kiss away the stings."
+
+In a very short space the children were soothed, and had forgotten
+their trouble. Then they threw their little arms about Goldilocks'
+neck, and begged her to stay and play with them.
+
+"Sweet children, it is my mission,--so the stars say,--to travel all
+over this world, from north to south. But, for all that, I will frolic
+with you till the sun sets."
+
+"Will the sad boy come too?" asked the children.
+
+Goldilocks shook her bright curls. "He is planting a garden," said
+she; "no need to ask him; he hears nothing while he is at play, and
+his games are as solemn as midnight."
+
+The children made believe that the beautiful Goldilocks, in her
+rose-colored dress, with her beaming hair and flying feet, was a great
+butterfly, which they were trying to catch. Now here, now there, the
+glowing butterfly flitted from flower to flower, leading her followers
+a merry chase. Every child thought to seize and hold her, for a kiss.
+She laughed; and the breezes danced with her hair, like--
+
+    "Zephyr with Aurora playing,
+    As he met her once a-Maying."
+
+But before any one had kissed or even touched her, she had
+disappeared, leaving the children gazing into the air, and seeking
+their late companion with tearful eyes.
+
+Goldilocks had only gone back to Despard, who was still planting
+flower-seeds.
+
+"What a miserable game," said Goldilocks; "it is worse than playing
+funeral! Who thought you could make flowers grow? Our old nurse said
+it was only Demeter, the goddess, who could do that. Here, now, you
+have called up a bristling crop of thistles and brambles? On my word,
+Despard, it is a pity!"
+
+"Well, well, Goldilocks, see what you can make of them. I am doomed to
+work, though I don't wish it; and my work is always disagreeable,
+though I can't tell why!"
+
+Goldilocks knelt, and blew on the prickly plants with her sweet
+breath. By the nodding of the next breeze, they were changed to roses,
+violets, and hare-bells.
+
+"It is pleasant to see any thing smile, even a flower," said
+Goldilocks, laughing as she spoke.
+
+"I think," replied Despard, "that this is a strange pilgrimage. I
+believe our very thoughts are alive. I wish I could stop thinking."
+
+By and by they came to a rude house,--as fine a one, though, as people
+in the Silver Age had yet learned how to build. Despard paused, and
+knocked gently. "Why linger here?" whispered his sister.
+
+"I know not," sighed the boy, "but so must I do."
+
+"How now, little ones? you startled me so!" cried a woman, opening the
+door by the width of a crack.
+
+"Let us come in," said Despard, sorrowfully; "we are two little
+wanderers; and our hairs are wet with night-dews."
+
+"Come in, then, little ones, and welcome; but never, at any one's
+door, knock so loud again," added the woman, pressing her hand against
+her heart.
+
+"I only tapped with the ends of my fingers," said the boy.
+
+"Ah," said the woman, "it was louder to me than thunder." Then, after
+she had set before them a supper of bread and milk, she rocked her
+baby, and sang to it a sweet cradle-song about mother Juno and high
+Olympus.
+
+The children lay down on beds of rushes; and Goldilocks, soothed by
+the lullaby, fell asleep; but soon awoke, and saw her brother leaning,
+on tiptoe, over the osier basket. The baby's face looked, in the
+moonlight, white and pinched; and its sick hands were pressed together
+like two withered rose-leaves.
+
+"Let me kiss him," whispered Goldilocks smiling. But bitter tears
+rolled down Despard's cheeks. Drawing his little sword from its
+sheath, he pricked the baby's heart till one red drop, the life-drop,
+stained the steel. The sick baby ceased to breathe.
+
+"O Despard, what have you done?" cried Goldilocks, seizing his arm.
+
+"I know not," said the boy; "but as my heart moves me, so must I do."
+
+Hearing voices, the mother awoke, and, as her habit was, turned at
+once to the cradle. The baby lay there beautiful and still; the
+pinched look gone, and its furrowed brow smoothed into a baby's smile.
+The mother wept bitterly.
+
+"Ah, little stranger," said she, turning to Despard, "I knew you when
+I let you in. Why did I open the door for you?"
+
+"Poor mother," said the boy sorrowfully, "if you had not opened the
+door, I must have come in by the window."
+
+But Goldilocks threw her soft arms about the woman's neck, and
+comforted her till it was morning, and the "gilded car of day" had
+risen from the ocean. The tears on her cheeks she dried with her fan,
+made of magical feathers.
+
+When the children set out again on their journey, the woman gave
+Goldilocks a loving kiss, and then embraced Despard, saying,--
+
+"For the sake of your sweet sister, I love even you."
+
+"Poor little brother," said Goldilocks when they had gone farther on
+their journey, "you are as good as I; but how is it? you make people
+weep, while I must go with you to dry the tears you call forth."
+
+"I am a black cloud," groaned Despard, "you a sunbeam."
+
+"But I like to have a cloud to shine on," said loving little
+Goldilocks.
+
+Footsore and weary, the little pilgrims travelled on; and, when they
+had gone from north to south, and back again, the Sibyl met them with
+tender kisses; and, when they were refreshed, bade them go forth
+again.
+
+"For," said she, "this world is always new, my dears. The people who
+are born to-day were not here yesterday; and every mortal must see the
+faces of my foster-children."
+
+It was now the Brazen Age, and Despard and Goldilocks had grown to be
+a youth and maiden; but still they travelled on. The Iron Age came;
+and Despard's raven hair was frosted; but Goldilocks' curls never
+faded. Let her live as long as live she may, she can never grow old.
+
+Their pilgrimage is not over yet; nor will it be while the earth
+revolves about the sun. The brother and sister come to every house;
+they knock at every door.
+
+To all the children who open their eyes upon the light, come Despard
+and Goldilocks, the bitter and the sweet of life, the twin angels of
+Happiness and Sorrow.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+Archaic and variable spelling is preserved as printed. Punctuation
+errors have been repaired. Hyphenation has been made consistent.
+Typographic errors (omitted letters) have been repaired.
+
+On page 61, seen has been amended to then--"One sees, now and then,
+stupid human beings, ..."
+
+On page 158, a reference to Hilda has been amended to Zora--"He
+described Zora's visit to the cruel goblin."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Fairy Book, by Sophie May
+
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