1§ i' - ^feSfl Cbe Hibtarp of t&« 53nitiet0itp of JSortb Carolina ©niiotoeti bp Wzt dialectic ana 3H UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 00022228420 This BOOK may be kept out TWO WEEKS ONLY, and is subject to a fine of FIVE CENTS a day thereafter. It was taken out on the day indicated below: Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2012 with funding from University of North Carolina at Chapel Hil http://archive.org/details/firesidefairiesopind FIRESIDE FAIRIES OR CHRISTMAS AT AUNT ELSIE'S. BY SUSAN PINDAR. NEW-YORK: D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 200 BROADWAY. PHILADELPHIA : GEO. S. APPLETON, 164 CHESNUT-ST. 1850. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1849, by D. APPLETON & COMPANY, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New-York. Library, Univ. of North Carolina PREFACE. " Home truths in strange dresses " would, perhaps, be an appropriate title for this unobtrusive volume, which, it is hoped will meet the approbation of the " little people" for whom it is expressly designed. There exists, in the minds of some parents, a strong and reasonable prejudice against Fairy Tales for children ; as the extravagant imagery and im- probable incidents, in which they generally abound, often mislead or bewilder the youthful imagination. But it is hoped this little book may escape such censure. The mind of a child is easily impressible through the medium of fancy; and this humble attempt to deck familiar, yet important truths, and the home duties of every-day life, in the drapery of fairy land, D PREFACE. may, perhaps, serve to awaken a reasoning thought^ leading ultimately to an active principle. If so, the mission of this little volume is fulfilled. It is too humble to provoke criticism ; and only seeks a welcome from those earthly "Fireside Fairies," whose instruction and entertainment have been its highest aim. CONTENTS. The Two Voices, or the Shadow and Shadowless . 18 The Minute Fairies 40 I Have and Oh Had I 64 The Hump and the Long Nose .... 83 The Lily Fairy and the Silver Beam . . .108 The Wonderful Watch 128 The Red and White Rose Trees .... 147 The Diamond Fountain 178 The Magical Key 189 Conclusion . . 200 FIRESIDE FAIRIES CHAPTER I. Yes, they had come at last ; the merry Christmas holidays ! and little hearts were beating high, and bright eyes growing brighter, in anticipation of enjoy- ment to come, — of many days free from the wearisome bondage of tasks, and recitations, — a perfect vista of light and happiness. Christmas Holidays ! magical words ! the syllables chime together like the tinkle of a merry sleigh-bell, and the very letters seem the types of fun and frolic. And they had actually arrived ; — of that you might have assured yourself, had you peeped into Aunt Elsie's large old-fashioned parlor, and seen the merry group assembled there around the great open fireplace, in which a huge Christmas log (so big that it seemed 10 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. miraculous how it was ever carried and deposited there) was blazing, with a steady flame, while the younger and smaller branches went crackling, and shooting up their slender spears of light, and alto- gether casting a ruddy glow throughout the room, illuminating the happy faces grouped therein. Every few moments a chesnut, bursting with im- patience from its bed among the embers, would pop out on the broad hearthstone, and then such jump- ing and scrabbling ensued, with shouts of merry laughter, as was delightful to witness, and which Aunt Elsie seemed heartily to enjoy. Never was there such a place to spend the holi- days as at Aunt Elsie's, nor such a priestess to pre- side over the festivities as Aunt Elsie herself. She was a widow, and childless, her children having all died in infancy, and her warm love seemed ever over- flowing towards all created things ; but more espe- cially went it forth to the " little people," as she loved to call the groups of children that clustered about her. She was aunt to every child for miles around, and never was the tie of relationship stronger than the bond of love that united Aunt Elsie to her proteges. All their tales of troubles were poured into her sym- pathizing ear, with the certainty of receiving good advice and real assistance. Every project for a frolic FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 11 was confided to her, sure to be encouraged if harm- less, or dissuaded from if mischievous or hurtful. But while all obedient children were favorites, more especially did the orphans or destitute interest her love; and for these she had more substantial be- nefits in store than the distribution of holiday gifts or other kindnesses shared with the happy and fortunate children of kind parents. Many little friendless ones owed their instruction and the means of honorable support to Aunt Elsie's benevolence ; and it was plea- sant to see how many young people, grown to matu- rity, used to visit her, for her ever judicious and kind counsel ; and were proud to acknowledge her as their first and truest friend. An invitation to Aunt Elsie's to spend the holi- days, was a reward eagerly sought for and highly prized ; none were asked whose conduct during the year had not been marked with some sign of improve- ment ; and no other incentive was necessary to awaken the most strenuous endeavors. Dear good Aunt Elsie ! no wonder the children loved to visit her : such piles of dough-nuts and krol- lers, such baskets of apples and bags of nuts were provided for their entertainment ! to say nothing of the mince pies and little cranberry tarts, with the ini- tial of each name cut from the crust and baked on the top, or the delicious plum pudding, of which they 12 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. were allowed to partake in moderation on Christmas Day, after they had done ample justice to the enor- mous turkey, fatted on purpose, and whose immense bulk was the wonderment of young eyes. But good cheer was not the only pleasure to he enjoyed. Aunt Elsie was not troubled with nervous headaches ; she liked the little folks to enjoy themselves in their own way, but without rudeness, and the loud- est laugh and merriest shout never called forth a re- primand. There was a fine sloping hill at the back of the house, down which the sleds ran famously, and a large pond at the side for skating. Then, for in- door amusements, there was a great upper room, nearly the whole width of the house, containing a swing and a hammock, formerly belonging to Aunt Elsie's bro- ther ; and every one was at liberty to bring what they pleased to contribute to the general enjoyment. In the evening they all congregated in the parlor, and never was there a parlor better suited for the purpose than Aunt Elsie's. It was a large room, as I have said, with rather a low ceiling, and four windows (for it was a corner room), well protected from the cold and storm by thick wooden shutters ; and if a prying gust should insinuate itself between the chinks, it was prevented entering the apartment by the heavy curtains of crim- son moreen that fell in great folds to the floor, and FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 13 behind whose ruddy screen the chilly little gust was soon converted into a genial atmosphere. What fine places the thick folds of those curtains were for pinning handkerchiefs in the game of " hot buttered blue beans ;" and the deep window seats made convenient hiding-places in the game of " hide and go seek." And though there were plenty of high- backed walnut chairs with stuffed seats, and low otto- mans with faded embroidered covers, and two old- fashioned couches, there was still enough of room for a game of " blindman's buff," without risk of a black eye or bruised ankle against obtrusive furniture. There was an antique piano, quite tunable enough for a country-dance or Virginia reel, and not suf- ficiently good to be ruined by indifferent performers. Then there were small work-stands, and a large centre table, covered with amusing and instructive games and pictures, and all sorts of materials for fancy knitting and embroideries ; besides, a large and well- filled bookcase, for those who preferred a quiet enjoy- ment. The walls were hung with portraits of Aunt Elsie's family : shepherdesses in hoops and fardingales, and demure gentlemen in powdered hair and knee- buckles, all smiling benignly on the merry group be- neath them, while they seemed to flourish in a green old age, being completely embowered in Christmas greens, with which the frames were wreathed. The 2 14 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. high China jars on the mantelpiece were filled with bunches of laurel, box and cedar, intermixed with the bright berries of the mountain ash and winter-green, and graceful festoons adorned the doorway and win- dows. What a cheerful friendly room it was, to be sure ! of all places to pass the Christmas holidays, commend me to Aunt Elsie's, at Woodleigh. Never was there a happier party of children than those now assembled in that cozy, old-fashioned parlor. There was little Norah Graham and her brother Wil- lie, and Lucy and Mary Parker, fine intelligent girls of ten and twelve ; and Harry Wilder, with his bro- ther George, and cousins Grace and Clara ; besides the orphans, Frank Field and his sweet sister, Lilias ; little pet Lily, the darling of Aunt Elsie, and the de- light of all. There was Bertha Carrol, the countess, as her companions called her, a stately girl just enter- ing her fifteenth year, and her two younger brothers, Charles and Ernest, frank, joyous-hearted boys. These, with the gentle sisters Jessie and May Lester, com- pleted the group, who were spending their holidays entirely at Aunt Elsie's. Other visitors there were in plenty, but they spent a day or evening only with them, having other engage- ments to fulfil. As I have said that non£ but good children were invited to Aunt Elsie's, of course all the members of the party deserved this commenda- FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 15 tion ; but each one possessed different traits of charac- ter, which were constantly elicited by the close asso- ciation with. others, as sparks are brought out by the contact of flint and steel. They had their faults too, but perhaps the certainty that a dismissal from Aunt Elsie's festivities would immediately follow every fla- grant act of bad behavior, acted as a restraint, and kept them pleasantly united. Aunt Elsie sat in her high-backed chair, at the corner of the fireplace, knit- ting away, occasionally offering some suggestions as to the games in progress, and smiling kindly on all ; giving sly hints as to the best places for hiding the handkerchief, and taking a lively interest in the sports about her. " What are you poring over there ?" asked Clara Wilder of her cousin George, as she stopped to gain breath after a hearty game of blindman's buff, and looking over his shoulder as she spoke. 11 It is a fairy book, and I have just finished it," he answered, closing it as he spoke. " I do love fairy stories better than any thing in the world ; when I get a library it shall be filled with them." " Before you get a library you will have lost your relish for fairy tales," said Lucy Parker, laughing ; " but they are delightful, I don't think I shall ever tire of the Arabian Nights." "Nor I ! nor I !" cried half a dozen voices. 16 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. " Do you remember the voyages of Sindbad, the sailor," asked Charles Carrol ; " I like those the best." " Not better than the story about the magic horse, all made of ebony and ivory, that could fly all over," chimed in little Lily. " They are all beautiful," said Jessie Lester ; and forthwith the little group clustered together and began discussing the merits of their favorite tales, for each seemed to have learned the Thousand and one Nights by heart. " Heigho ! I wish fairies were in fashion yet," ex- claimed Harry Wilder ; " nothing wonderful ever happens now-a-days ; only think how delightful it would be to have a wishing cap, by which one could get all he desired." " Or to have guardian fairies," said May Lester, " to prompt you to do right always." " Every one has a guardian fairy of that kind, I think," said Aunt Elsie. " A guardian fairy !" exclaimed many voices. " I know what Aunt Elsie means, it is conscience," said May. " There is a beautiful Eastern legend," said Aunt Elsie, " which runs thus :" " Every man has two attendant angels, one on either shoulder. "Whenever he does a good action FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 17 the angel on the right records and seals it, because a thing once well done is finished for ever. When he commits an evil deed, the angel on his left writes it down also, but he does not seal it; and if, before midnight the offender cries, ' Allah forgive me !' the angel drops a tear of joy upon the words and effaces them." " What a lovely story," cried the children. " I have often felt," said Mary Parker, " as if a voice whispered me when to do right." " Yes ; and when I commit a great fault, that voice seems to speak to me in tones like thunder," replied Ernest. "Yet this is only the still small voice of con- science, murmuring in your heart," answered Aunt Elsie. " How wonderful is the power that spirit voice possesses ; and how humbly should we listen to its lightest tone ! It is indeed a monitor that should never be disregarded. And now, my dear children, since you are in the humor for fairy tales, I will, if you choose, read one out of an old manuscript, which has for many years been stored away in my bookcase. I cannot promise it will be as delightful as the Arabian Nights, but it has, at least, a moral which I will leave to your ingenuity to discover." A general burst of delight followed this proposal, and the elder girls, taking up their knitting, seated 2* 18 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. themselves at the table, while the boys gathered in a corner, and the little children, hugging up their dolls in their arms, drew their chairs to the fire. Aunt Elsie, in the meantime took from the upper shelf of her bookcase an old portfolio, and selecting one from the numerous manuscripts it contained, deliberately put on her glasses, and read the story of OR THE SHADOW AND THE SHADOWLESS. In a certain small village, there lived a very poor man, a basket-maker, named Hans. He lived quite alone in a mean little hut, which was his only in- heritance. He had no wife nor children to comfort him, for he was too poor to marry, and he had for many years supported his infirm and bed-ridden mother. She was now dead, and though Hans was no longer obliged to toil for her support, yet he missed her very much, and felt miserably lonely, working day after day, without a soul to speak to, unless by chance a straggling villager should stop at the door to exchange a word with him. But his mother had taught him to be industrious, and con- FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 19 tented, so he worked steadily on, though he scarcely earned enough to keep the wolf from the door. Hans might have grown old and gray in the midst of his humble labors, without indulging any vain longings for a better condition, if he had not had the misfortune to see the miller's pretty daughter, who smiled kindly on him, and so set him to thinking how happy he should be, if he had but her bright eyes and pleasant voice to cheer his lonely home. But Hans knew full well that he could hardly support himself, and what then could he do with a wife ? So he was obliged to see the miller's daughter walk to church with rich farmer Trenck, while he had to keep indoors on account of his ragged coat. This state of things made poor Hans very unhappy. "I am as comely and young as farmer Trenck," said he to himself, " and if I only had money, there is no telling what might happen." Then he fell to thinking how he should obtain the gold he so much coveted ; and these thoughts kept him awake "at night when he should have been sleeping, and made him sit, idly twisting the rushes through the day, when he ought to have been working. It so happened one day when Hans went out to cut some rushes for his baskets, that as he stooped down, with his knife in his hand, he saw a leather wallet lying among the reeds. He dropped his knife 20 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. and seized the wallet. It was very heavy, and as he turned it over in his hand, a bright gold piece rolled out upon his palm. Hans felt as if his heart had stopped beating. He rubbed his eyes to be sure he was not dreaming, and then looked round to see if any one was near. But nobody was in sight, and Hans, sitting down on a green bank, counted out the bright gold pieces, one by one, and then dropped them again into the leathern bag, thinking all the time that the chink of the precious metal was the sweetest music he had ever heard. There were ninety-one gold pieces in the wallet, and as Hans, after satisfying himself twenty times by counting them over and over, finally tied the string tightly about the bag, he heard a delicate little voice close to his ear say : " What are you going to do with the money, Hans?" Poor Hans started up in affright, for he thought that some one had been watching him all the time. He looked all around but could see nothing, when again the voice repeated : " What are you going to do with the money, Hans? it is not yours." Again Hans looked about him, and now he saw, seated on his right shoulder, a small but beautiful creature, with silver wings, and bearing a star on its FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 21 forehead, which cast" a bright radiance all around. Before he could recover from his surprise, so as to reply to the question the tiny figure had twice asked, another voice, very unlike the first, and sounding as if it came through a brazen tube, answered for him : " Hans will keep the money, to be sure ; he found it, and it is his." "He has no right to keep what belongs to an- other," answered the silver voice. "How does he know the real owner?" said the brazen voice ; " whoever dropped it considers it lost. Hans is a poor man, and this is a piece of good luck which he ought not to throw away." While this dialogue was going on, Hans, looking towards his left shoulder, beheld a small dark form, enveloped in a sort of dazzling haze that prevented him from seeing its outline with distinctness. This was not a silvery light, such as emanated from the spirit of the silver voice, but a sort of lurid glare, like the reflection from molten copper. Yet there was something strangely fascinating in its brightness, which tempted one to look again. Hans at last mus- tered courage to speak : " Who are ye both, that thus dispute about my iffairs V he asked. " I am the voice of the Shadowless ; whoso follow- 3th my advice shall never commit sin or know de- 22 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. spair ;" answered the star-crowned figure on his right shoulder. " And men call me the voice of the Shadow," replied the brazen tone, with a harsh laugh ; " whoso followeth me, shall have riches in plenty, and a life of joy." Hans cast down his eyes in thought, and there, on the greensward, rested the shadow of the brazen one, a dark, unshapely thing, portraying his true form divested of the dazzling glare that surrounded it, and twice the size of the figure itself. Hans started and trembled. There was no shadow near the figure on his right, but a soft light like a reflected moonbeam lay shimmering on the grass, the reflection of her silver wings. " Pooh, pooh* man, never be afraid of a shadow," said the brazen tone, jeeringly; "that is the best proof you can have that I am a real, tangible being, and ready to serve you. The words of the Shadow- less are all very well for ordinary occasions, but at a time like this listen to me." " What shall I do with the wallet ?" asked Hans ; " I don't want to keep it, if it is dishonest. I could not bear to be a thief." " Never call yourself hard names," answered the brazen tone. " The act of finding, and of stealing, are two very different things. The facts are these : FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 23 Somebody loses a purse — you are fortunate enough to find it ; therefore it is your own, of course, to do with as you like." " Not so," interrupted the Shadowless. " The money must have a proper owner ; it is the duty of Hans to discover him, if possible, and restore it to him ; that is what he will do, as an honest man." Hans winced at these words ; and the Shadow, seeming to perceive that he had gone too far, replied, " "Well, there is, at least, no harm in Hans taking the wallet home with him, and thinking it over a while ; it will be much safer in his chest than lying out here in the reeds." This suggestion pleased Hans ; but the Shadow- less spoke : f Do not listen to the tempter, Hans, but take the money at once to the justice, and tell him all about it. If once within your grasp, you know not to what you may be tempted — perhaps even to steal." Hans was offended at this implied doubt of his strength ; so he said, angrily, " Do you think me a child, that I cannot be trusted ? I choose to take the wallet with me, and I will." " Hans ! Hans !" murmured the silver voice, im- ploringly, " drive me not from you, by wilful obsti- nacy ; know me as your true friend, and trust me, all will be well at the last." 24 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. A pang went through the heart of Hans at these words ; and he was just about yielding, when the Shadow interposed. " How childish your fears are," he said. " "What ! afraid to trust yourself one night with a little bag of gold ? I thought you were more of a man. Suppose you had not found the wallet to-day, it would have laid among the reeds all night. Is it not, in reality, much safer with you ? you can carry it to the justice to-morrow." These specious words decided Hans, and the soft, imploring voice of the Shadowless was no longer heeded. He arose, and went towards his home, at- tended by the voice of the Shadow, who kept sour.d- ing in his ear the praises of his manliness i ad strength. Hans observed that the shadow on the green- sward was larger than before, and he thought it obscured the sunlight ; but the voice of flattery sounded sweet in his ear, and the lurid light hover- ing on his shoulder dazzled him; and so he went on, not heeding that the shimmering light had gone from his pathway, and that the star-crowned form sat drooping, dimmed, and silent. When Hans arrived at his cottage, he carefully barred the door, a precaution he had never before thought of using ; and then once more spread the FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 25 flittering pieces out upon the board before him, and ^ounted them, one by one. " There are just ninety-one pieces," suggested the Shadow; "one piece would buy a new coat; don't fou think you deserve something for finding the wal- let, Hans ?" j Hans listened, but said nothing : he was thinking ■hat if he had a new coat, he might walk to church ;'ith the miller's pretty daughter; but the people -ould wonder where he got a new coat. It seemed ii if the Shadow knew his thoughts, for it went on : ( " You might go. to the town, you know, and per- ; aps there might be something owing you ;— who jqows? The coat is bought with money owed to !bu, eh, Hans ? And then, on Sunday, when farmer renck comes along, he will have to stand one side ;— jid look, now, there comes the miller's pretty daugh- ijr !" ( Hans looked up, and there she went, sure enough, okmg more blooming than ever. t| " You can replace the piece when you earn it, and nitore the wallet then; no one knows when you 'and it," said the Shadow. Hans sighed heavily ; then he took up the bright #es and dropped them in the bag, all save one ; rit he left upon the table. ? u Thou shalt not steal," murmured the silver 3 26 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. voice, but now the tone was faint as a dying echo ; and the brazen tone drowned it at once with a loud laugh, and the inquiry, " Who talks of stealing ? Hans borrows the piece awhile, and hurts no one by it." It was now dark, and Hans threw himself on the bed, after carefully locking up the bag in his chest. and hiding the one piece beneath his pillow. His sleep was restless and disturbed ; and early the next morning, unrefreshed, but determined, and noi daring to question himself, he arose, took the gold piece, and hastened away to the adjoining town. It seemed to Hans that a dark pall was thrown over every thing, and the shadow that was flung on the ground at his side increased as he went ; but the voice of the Shadow never ceased urging him on, and the Shadowless was silent and dim. The tailor, who knew Hans well, looked surprised when Hans offered the piece of gold, but he believed him when he said it was money long owed him ; and having fitted him a handsome coat, with bright but- tons, handsomer even than farmer Trench's, Hans; with his purchase, turned towards his home. The morrow was Sunday, and the voice of the Shadow whispered of triumph in the new coatj but, despite all he could say, the dark pall seeme FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 43 Presently the babble floated amid a tuft of forget- me-nots that grew close to the water's edge, and the beautiful fairy spreading her graceful wings, alighted close at Enna's side. ■ Enna was too childish and untutored to feel aught but delighted surprise, at the presence of the lovely little fairy, and so she said : " Who are you, little beauty, and from whence did you come ?" The fairy smiled at Enna's fearless questioning, and replied in a voice soft and silvery as the rippling of a brook on the white pebbles : " I am the Lady of the Spring, Enna. Have you never heard that on a certain midsummer day, there is one particular moment in which any wish that a mortal makes, while looking on this fountain, shall be fulfilled? You have unknowingly chosen the very moment to wish you were happy, and now I have come to grant your wish." . - " Are you really in earnest ? have you such pow- er ?" asked Enna, her eyes opening wide with aston- ishment ; and then assured by the kind smile of the fairy, she exclaimed : " Oh, how delightful this is, and how happy I shall be'. I wish to be rich, to have servants, to ride in a fine coach, and have nothing to do." v Not so fast," interrupted the Lady of the Spring; 44 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. u you wished to be happy, but the way in which your happiness is brought about, must rest with me. How- ever, as there are certain conditions which you seem to think essential, they must be attended to. You say, Enna, if you had nothing to do, you would be perfectly happy ?" " Yes," answered the little girl, in a more sub- dued manner ; " I should like to be elegantly dressed as you are, and have nothing to do but sail about as you do." " You are very much mistaken, Enna, in supposing me idle," said the fairy ; " I have my duties as well as yourself. It is I who keep this living spring from stagnating by constantly agitating it, and sending the bright bubbles, who are my servants, up to its sur- face. Indeed, it is one of the conditions to which our race owe their existence, that they should be con- stantly employed; idleness brings its own punish- ment to us. Do you see those unsightly stones at the bottom of the spring ? they were once beings as bright and brilliant as myself, but failing to employ themselves for any good purpose, they gradually lost their beauty, and became the dull heavy things you now see, incapable of motion and unconscious of en- joyment. The one among us who is the most active, is chosen queen, a distinction conferred upon me, and which I should forfeit did I yield to indolence. So FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 45 ou see, Enna, that for me at least, idleness has no harm." " Yes," answered Enna, a little abashed, " but •our work is not at all like mine : if I were a fairy I hould like very well to be employed at such delight- ed tasks as yours. But I have many disagreeable hings to do — I don't like to be busy from morning ill night." " You are but a very little child, and have much o learn," said the fairy, gravely. " But you must ee from what I have told you, how impossible it is hat I should gratify your desire to be idle. I will nake you happy, however ; and to accomplish this, I nil give you servants in plently." Enna's eyes danced with eager delight. " With )lenty of servants I need never work," she exclaimed. " Wait a little, until you hear the conditions on vhich they come to you," replied the Lady of the Spring. " I have told you that none of our race can )e idle and live, neither can they exist in the same itmosphere with indolence. The fairy servants I vill give you, must necessarily be ignorant of your hities, and you must teach them by your example yhat they are to do. As they are placed under your ;are, you are responsible for them ; and I warn you ,hat your idleness will cause their death. These fairy servants are like all of our race, very small, but they 46 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. are capable of performing wonderful things ; and i by your example, you properly instruct tbem in thei: present duties, they will, after a time, accomplisl works of which you do not even dream. But to mak< them valuable servants, you must lay aside for a tim< your desire to be idle. Are you willing to accepi them on these conditions VI " Oh, yes I" exclaimed Enna, joyfully. " I wil gladly be industrious a while, that I may do nothing ever afterwards. I thank you a thousand times. But when shall I begin ?" " Come here to-morrow morning, when the first sun- beam falls on the fountain, and here, amid this tuft of forget-me-nots, you will find a small casket, curi- ously wrought; put it in your bosom without opening it, and carry it with you all day. At sunset come here again, and when the last ray quivers on the fountain's breast, take out your casket and open it ; you will then see how you have fulfilled the condi- tions you now accept. The casket will contain a number of minute fairies, as they are called, who are willing to become your servants for life, provided you keep them employed. If, by your example, you have kept them busy, you will find the casket filled with beautiful little creatures, radiant as myself. But if you have wasted your time, it will be filled with little FIRESIDE FAIE.IES. 47 leaden figures, dull and inanimate. Do you under- stand, Enna ?" " Yes," answered the little girl, thoughtfully, " the minute fairies will be mine, and I must teach them to work for me, by showing them how, myself. How long will it take them to learn of me ?" " That depends entirely upon yourself," replied the Lady of the Spring, encouragingly. " Every morning, at the first dawn of sunrise, the casket will be lying here, replenished with fresh servants for you ; and when, for three successive days, you can open it at sunset and find no leaden figures in it, your task will be accomplished, and the minute fairies bound to serve you for ever." ''Then the more industrious I am the sooner they will learn," answered the little girl. " Well, I will try with all my might." The fairy smiled encouragingly. " That is right, Enna, you see it all depends upon yourself, whether or not you shall have servants in plenty ; and now hasten home, and remember to be here at the first ray of sunshine to-morrow." The beautiful fairy spread her wings as she spoke, iand floated away, out of Enna's sight, and the little I'girl, after filling her bucket, returned thoughtfully to sher home. Enna determined to say nothing about her adven- 48 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. ture to her mother, but she was unusually silent at supper, and went early to bed. The next morning the little girl awoke at earliest peep of dawn, and rising softly, went down stairs without disturbing anj one ; then taking her little bucket, hastened away tc the well. This time she did not linger on her way but arrived at the spring, and filling her bucket, sal down to await the first sunbeam. Enna, like mosl other people who do not value time, seldom rose early, and she was therefore surprised and delighted with the quiet and cool appearance of every thing around. The little birds were twittering about among the branches, singing their earliest songs ; the dew laid heaviby upon the grass, and the wild flowers were just unfold- ing their leaves and lifting up their heads from their grassy pillows, as though waiting the command oi the sun to arise. Presently the soft rosy light thai had been slowly spreading over the eastern sky, deep- ened to a richer glow, and one bright golden sun- beam pierced through the intertwining branches, and quivered on the waters of the spring. Enna started up and looked among the tuft of forget-me- nots, scarcely expecting to find the casket, but in- clined to think her fairy adventure all a dream. But there, nestled among the tiny blossoms, was a small curiously wrought silver box, so bright that it dazzled the little girl's eyes when the sun fell on it. Her FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 49 ieart beat with delight as she put the casket in her )OSom, and gayly taking up her bucket went singing m her path. I Yer j much surprised was Enna's mother, when he saw her little girl returning thus early with her racket filled from the spring. She had thought Snna was yet asleep. The good woman kissed her :aughter's rosy cheek, and called her an industrious ittle bee, to be abroad so early, and Enna was so 'ell pleased to be thus praised that she felt happier aan ever. " Now," thought Enna, " what is my first task ? I ai up so early that I shall have a fine opportunity ) set my minute fairies a good example. Well, I ill weed the garden patch before the sun falls on it." ,nd away she ran to the little garden, and by the me her mother called her in to breakfast, the weeds id all disappeared. Incited b^ her mother's praise, and her desire to |ch her fairy servitors, Enna performed all her orning tasks with unwonted alacrity. She washed e breakfast things, swept up the floor, arranged her m room, watered the flowers, fed the chickens, and d every thing her mother bid her so cheerfully that e tears came in the good woman's eyes, at this un- :pected change. After Enna had performed her usual duties, she 5 50 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. took up her book to study her lesson. She began very much in earnest, but presently her thoughts wandered away to the spring, and she commenced congratulating herself on her industry, and specu- lating on the fine times she would have after she had taught her minute fairies how to work for her. She sat idly with the book on her knee, when her mother asked her if she was too tired to study, and told her she need not learn her lesson unless she pleased. This roused Enna to a sense of her idleness, and she studied away in good earnest. She soon learned her lesson, and recited it perfectly. In the afternoon Enna was winding some yarn for her mother, when a neighbor came in, and the little girl soon became interested in her idle gossip, and let the yarn fall idly from her hand. When the neighbor rose to go, Enna saw that it was very near sunset, and so hastened to finish the yarn. She was very anxious to open the casket. She felt pretty sure that all the fairies would be safe, and so, taking her bucket, hastened away to the spring. The sun was just sinking as she reached the silver water, and his last beam was quivering on its surface, when she took the silver casket from her bosom, and with trembling fingers' touched the spring. The casket flew open, and there within it FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 51 were numbers of tiny beautiful creatures, who, as Enna endeavored to count them, spread their gauze- like wings, and floated away. Enna looked into the casket, expecting to find it empty, but to her disap- pointment, there were a great many little leaden figures remaining. Enna endeavored to recollect at what time during the day she had been idle, and remembered how she had sat listening to the neighbor's gossip, and how she had forgotten to study while indulging in golden dreams. She felt sorry and disappointed, but re- solved not to be discouraged on the very first day of trial ; and so, after carefully depositing the casket among the tuft of forget-me-nots, went thoughtfully home, full of good resolutions for the future. Several days passed on with varied success. One afternoon was wasted with an idle companion ; another hour slipped away unperceived while she watched the antics of an organ-grinder's monkey ; but still, when Enna opened the casket at sunset, she thought the leaden figures seemed to dimmish in number; and thus encouraged, she went hopefully on, each day en- deavoring to avoid the faults of the preceding. The little girl was unconsciously forming habits of industry ; and what was at first a task had now become a pleasure. She was happier than she had ever been before ; her mother praised her ; no scold- 52 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. ings awaited her for neglected duties ; the neighbors spoke kindly, and the hours of recreation after her tasks were done had never seemed so bright and de- lightful. Little Enna was in a . fair way to have " servants in plenty," according to the fairy's promise, when a new trial befell her. One morning, upon awaking, she saw the sky look dark and lowering, and heard great rain-drops patter- ing on the roof. Here was a trial. Enna did not like to rise so early on a dark rainy morning, and go through the wet grass to the spring ; and she laid still, thinking perhaps it would stop raining in a little while. But the clouds seemed determined to give the grass a good drenching, and Enna's mother twice called the little girl before she arose, and slowly dress- ing herself, went with a very ill grace to the spring. It was very late, and Enna began to fear the casket would not be there ; but she espied it in its usual place, and, hastily grasping it, returned home sullen and cross. Alas, for poor Enna ! that day was a miserable one to her. Every thing seemed to go wrong. She had wasted so much time in bed, that her tasks were hurriedly done. The yarn would tangle, and the needle would not be threaded, and the lesson would not be learned, and Enna lost her temper, and even FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 53 the bright sunshine that broke amid the clouds just before sunset could not restore her good humor. It was with many misgivings that Enna opened her casket by the spring side on that evening. She felt that the day had been misspent, and knew there were many, very many, leaden images in the box ; but even she, was scarcely prepared for the sight that met her eyes upon lifting the lid. There appeared to be myriads of little shapeless leaden things within, and the few who floated out had lost much of their bril- liant hue ; she could have counted them, so small was the number, had she not been absorbed in grief at the sight of the leaden minute fairies. " Oh, what shall I do ! what shall I do !" sobbed the little girl ; " I have wickedly killed so many fairy servants, that the Lady of the Spring will never trust me again ! what a very, very idle girl I have been !" and she hid her face in her hands and wept loudly and long. She wished the spring fairy would come to her again, that she might tell her how sorry she was, and beg her not to withdraw her promise ; and she waited till the sun had long sunk behind the dis- tant hills, and the pale stars were reflected like span- gles in the spring, hoping the fairy would appear, but she did not come. Enna returned home that night sadder but far wiser than before. The.first sunbeam had scarcely kissed the spring 5 * 54 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. on the next morning when Enna stood trembling at its brink, hoping, yet fearing the casket would not be there ; but, as her eye sought the accustomed place, she espied the shining box, and clasped it with an eagerness she had never known before. From that day Enna had the satisfaction to find the leaden figures decrease every time the casket was opened ; and one evening, to her inexpressible delight, not one remained. She was now near the goal of her wishes ; and after several failures, she was happy in finding it filled with bright fairies for two succeeding evenings. You may be sure she tried harder than ever the next day, and with a beating heart repaired to the spring side and opened her casket. Out soared a cloud of brilliant little creatures, not one leaden figure was there ! Enna's task was done ! As the little girl gazed after the floating forms with delighted satisfaction, she heard her own name called in a sweet low voice, and looking down beheld her friend, the Lady of the Spring. " You have accomplished your task, Enna," said the fairy, smiling kindly on her, while her golden hair floated back upon the breeze, " and are entitled to your reward." Enna blushed, but found courage to reply — " It took me much longer than I had thought ; I did not FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 55 know how idle I was, and feared I had offended you by destroying so many of your fairies." " No," said the fairy, gravely, " the minute fairies belong to one who is willing to sacrifice them in attain- ing good. You have shown much perseverance, En- na, in conquering your idle habits, and I think there is no fear that you will destroy many more minute fairies. You have conquered yourself, my dear little girl, and thus have won a great victory. And now," she added, smiling, " I must remember the reward — ' plenty of servants and nothing to do.' Was not that the wish, Enna ?" Enna was silent a few moments, and then replied timidly, "Do you know I think I should not be con- tented now, were I to be idle and have nothing to do. I am so happy, and all my tasks seem so pleasant ; and yet," she added, blushing, " I should so like to ham more — I would like so much to see the wonder- ful things you said the minute fairies could do." A kind smile, bright and beautiful as a sunbeam, lit up the lovely face of the fairy, as she bent her soft eyes tenderly on the little girl and said : " You have discovered the great secret, my Enna; you have found the true value of the servants I pro- mised you. They will, indeed, teach you many won- derful things. Go on, and perfect the lesson you have so bravely begun, and learn from the minute fairies 5§ FIRESIDE FAIRIES. how much may be accomplished by a proper valuation of time." As she spoke, she clasped around Enna's neck a rare locket, composed of a brilliant stone set round with more than twenty smaller ones, each in their turn encircled by many small and very dazzling jewels. " Wear this for my sake, Enna," she said ; "and, by marking the varying lustre of these gems, you will know whether your minute fairies are doing their duty • henceforward they are bound to serve vou for ever. Farewell, my child, go and prosper." As she spoke, she floated away from Enna's wistful gaze, and the little girl returned joyously home. And what happened then ? Why Enna's servants proved most faithful ones and gave evidence of their power and worth as' years sped on; for Enna, profiting by their teach- ings, became the finest scholar, the neatest hand- maiden, the earliest riser, and most industrious girl for miles around. Her cheeks wore the glow of health, her eyes sparkled with cheerful good-humor, and her form was light and graceful with exercise and youth. Busy as a bee, and happy as a bird, Enna found that the improvement of time brings health, wealth, and happiness. FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 57 There was a hush, as Aunt Elsie finished her tory ; not a word had been spoken during the read- ag; and now, Mary Parker, rising from her seat, ame and laid little Lily's doll on Aunt Elsie's :nee, and said, while tears stood in her eyes and her oice trembled : " You chose that story for my especial benefit, dear bint Elsie, I am sure, and I thank you for its applica- ion. There," she added, smiling, as she pointed to the [oil, " there is my first offering on the shrine of the mi- tute fairies." Aunt Elsie drew Mary towards her, and kissed ier blooming cheek fondly. " I do not mean to be lersonal in my selections," she said kindly, " but' I rill hereafter read any story that is applicable to the ransactions of the day. I think, Mary, we may all find auch to apply to ourselves in a story inculcating the alue of time." " That we may," answered many voices, as the ;roup rose from the table and gathered around the ire. % And now, Miss Lily," said Bertha Carrol, " as ou have profited so much by our industry, please ell us what the beautiful locket was that the fairy ;ave Enna ?" " Oh, that I don't understand," answered Lily, rho was literally devouring her doll with kisses to 58 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. the imminent risk of its rosy cheeks. " But I know the little fairies were real minutes ; and I suppose they looked as beautiful as this dolly, only very small." " The locket represents the day, I think," said Clara Wilder. " Oh, yes ; and the smaller stones the hours, and the little bits of ones minutes," exclaimed Norah Graham. "It is a very pretty story; I like it much," said Jessie Lester. " Yes," chimed in Charles Carrol ;" I can under- stand well enough how the time slips away without one's knowing it. Go out to play ball for five mi- nutes before you begin to study, and whew ! a whole hour bounces off before you know where you are." The children laughed at Charles's bouncing hour, and after Lily's doll had been duly admired, they hastened to remove their working materials, as Aunt Elsie made it a rule never to leave the room disor- dered upon retiring to rest. The next morning the doll's wedding was cele- brated with all due magnificence, and little Lily made happy by having her superb dolly, in her dress of old- fashioned silver brocade and flowing veil, the cynosure of all eyes. While Mary Parker, as she witnessed the delight which the fulfilment of her promise gave her little favorite, inwardly resolved to remember, and profit by the story of the Minute Fairies. FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 59 CHAPTER III. What a glorious winter's day it was ! The snow lay full two feet deep on a level, and was frozen so hard on the top as easily to bear up beneath your footsteps. It was very cold, though, and the sharp keen air rushed bitingly against your face as if it had awakened an appetite within itself, and was ready to devour you. Jack Frost was wide awake that day, and left his mark upon cheeks and noses ; and crept behind the woollen mufflers to give your ears a friendly pinch by way of remembrance. The sun shone down on the crusted snow as bright as bright could be, and tried in vain to thaw its icy surface ; but the bleak northwest wind caught up small particles of the drifted snow flakes, and flung them back into the sun's face in sport, and thus the whole air was filled with sparkling specks of ice, while the leafless branches of the trees were festooned with snow wreaths, and hung 60 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. with icicles that crackled with a clear sharp sound when the wind tossed the boughs about. It was just the day of days for sledding, and the fine slope at the back of Aunt Elsie's was the hill of hills for that purpose. So at least thought our little party as they sallied forth after breakfast, well pro- tected by great coats and tippets, sundry mufflers and mittens, against the cold. The great sled that had been projected proved a failure ; but there were several small ones belonging to the party, and these went merrily enough. The girls were allowed their full share in the sport, and such shouts of merry laughter as rang out on the clear frosty air, might have warmed the heart of a weary traveller. The morning sped away rapidly, and at dinner time the hungry group did ample justice to the store of good things, which Aunt Elsie's kindness had pro- vided for them. " Well, we have had rare sport," cried Ernest Carrol, when they had assembled once more in the old cosy parlor, and were arranging their evening pastimes. "I don't feel in the least tired, and am willing to challenge any one to a game of snow-ball." "I wish I was strong like you, Ernest," said little Frank Field, looking up admiringly into the FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 61 Ene glowing face of the other ; " I get tired so easily, and am so soon out of breath." " Never mind, Franky," cried Harry Wilder, en- couragingly; "wait until you grow a man, and see if you are not as strong as he is. No wonder you are tired, little fellow, when you would take your turn dragging up the sled with the rest, in spite of all we could say. You know we are all older, and of course stronger than you are, Frank." Frank shook his head. "I will never be as strong as any of you," he said. " I am afraid I shall never be able to work as hard as I ought." Little Lily came and laid her curly head on her brother's bosom, and looking up in his face, whis- pered : " Wait till I grow up, Franky, and I will buy a great sled with a horse, on purpose for you." . « So we will, Lily," said Harry Wilder, anxious to change the current of Frank's thoughts, for the sensitive and delicate boy dwelt much upon the lonely situation of himself and little sister—" so We will : wouldn't it be fine to have a large sleigh big enough to accommodate us all, and a pair of horses with plenty of bells, eh ?" « Yes," chimed in his brother George ; " I thought this morning it was pretty hard work dragging the 6 62 FIRESIDE FAIRIES, sleds up hill, just to slide down again. It was mak- ing a toil of a pleasure, too much for my taste." " Why, that is the best part of it, George," cried Charles Carrol; "I don't see that it makes much difference what you do, so as you are out in the snow.' " But I am disappointed in our great sled," said George, fretfully, "and I am tired of these little ones. I propose that we stay in doors, and try to make a large one, and let our old ones alone." " And so lose all the fine sledding !" exclaimed Ernest : " not I, for one." "Let well enough alone, George," said his brother Harry ; " our sleds run famously, I am sure." "Do you remember, Harry," answered his brother, "what a grand one James Grant had? that's the kind I want, these little ones seem so childish now." " I guess you are tired, is the reason you feel so discontented, George," said his cousin Grace. " You said nothing against the sleds this morning." George looked sulky. " Oh," cried Lucy Parker, « George wants a large stage sleigh, with six horses and red feathers in their heads, and buffalo robes, and bear skins, with great redeyes and staring teeth, besides bells enough to deafen us, just to cause a sensation. Then we must FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 63 all jump in, with Aunt Elsie in the back seat, throned like an Indian princess : that is it, isn't it, George?" •The children all laughed, and even George smiled at this description, while Aunt Elsie said, smiling, f I think I should hut ill become so dignified a situ- ation, as the one you have assigned me, and should need the foolscap and bells to make the picture complete." Little Lily clapped her hands in ecstasy at the idea of Aunt Elsie in a foolscap ; and good humor being restored, the controversy was dropped. The evening had now closed in, and the curtains were let down, lights brought, and the usual employ- ments produced. But the little party were too much fatigued to enter into any sport, and as Aunt Elsie sat knitting industriously in the corner, there were sundry whisperings, and side glances towards the bookcase, and at last little Lily, putting her rose- bud mouth close to the old lady's cheek, murmured a request. Aunt Elsie laid down her needles and smiled. "We will put it to vote, Lily," she said. "I think you will be apt to grow sleepy if I read to you to-night." « Oh, no, Aunt Elsie ! Please read, Aunt Elsie, it is so many evenings since we had a story !" cried many voices. 64 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. " Only since the night before last," replied the old lady, kindly ; " however, if you will call Dinah to bring us in some nuts and apples, and a plate of krollers, I will try and find a short story." The refreshments were brought, the old portfolio opened, and good Aunt Elsie, putting aside her knit- ting work, prepared to read to the expectant group the following story, which she called '"$ %m, ml re simple, and daily a little was laid by, Carl think- y to atone in a measure to his father for not obtain- g the wonderful treasure bird. One fine summer morning Carl was singing at his >rk, by the open window, when suddenly he heard sweet trilling melody, close at his ear ; and there, rched on the end of his loom, sat a tiny brown bird, th bright black, eyes, singing away in the merriest d most sociable manner imaginable. It looked very :e the little ordinary forest birds that become tame by eing mankind, and often fly down by a doorway to ck up the crumbs. Carl was pleased with the familiar air of his littlo iitor, and held out his hand, saying, " You are a Sable little fellow ; come here and sing me another Qg if it please you." 72 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. To his great surprise and delight, the little bir< obeyed the summons, and seating himself on Carl' hand, trolled forth a merry roundelay in a manne so irresistibly comic, and with so many trills an< quavers, that Carl was perfectly delighted ; an* when the little warbler paused in his song, and fle\ away to the window-seat, Carl hastened to sprea< crumbs for him, hoping to entice him to stay. Th little bird picked up the crumbs, and hovered roun< the open window all day, cheering Carl with his livel; songs, and in the evening, after the weaver had finishe< his work, he carefully made a soft, warm nest, an< placed it upon one of the beams near the window, a the same time chirping to his little singing friend and inviting him to enter. The bird seemed to understand Carl's invitatior and soon took possession of his comfortable quarters After this the little brown bird became Carl's constan guest ; all day long cheering him with his merry an< delightful melody, and eating the crumbs out of hi hand, perching on his shoulder, and exhibiting th utmost fondness for him. " I don't believe there are any golden eggs in you nest, my little friend," said Carl one day to his bird " for I have seen plenty of your kind before ; but . wouldn't exchange your pleasant company and swee voice for any ' I Have' in the land." FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 73 The little brown bird flew up into its nest at this, d there burst forth in such a gush of trillings and averings, that Carl was fain to put up his hand to i head while he said, laughing : " Well, well, I don't mean to disturb your nest, I little fellow ; I earn enough at my trade for us bh, and I think, when my father sees my little hoard, d hears your pleasant voice, he will not regret the Have.' I wish poor Klem would come home again, d we could all be happy together." Months had passed away, and no tidings had been ird of Klem, when one evening, as Carl was sit- g at his door, he espied his father coming down 3 road. He hastened to him, and a joyful meeting was, you may be certain. 1 1 have got plenty of work, Carl," said his father, er they were seated within, " for the fame of your lustry has reached even the great city where I ve been, and we need never be idle again for want ^employment." Carl then told his father the adventures of Klem d himself. The old man was very much depressed the news. It was an " Oh, Had I" that had be- iled Klem, and he feared he would never give up 3 chase. I Yes, poor Klem would not take my counsel," re- ed Carl, sadly ; " but I have a dear little bird here 7 74 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. that keeps me good company, and I do not pine aft the wonderful " I Have." As he spoke, the little brown "bird jumped up i the edge of the nest, and sung a merry lay, in whic to his great wonderment, Carl plainly distinguish* these words : — " The nest will soon break I have filled for your sake, Then build me another, As soft as the other, And through the long day While you're working away, You never shall weary, While I sing you be cheery, be cheery." The last words, "be cheery," were trolled out : every variety of note, and as the lingering cadeni died away, a shower of golden eggs came tumblii down upon Carl's loom ; the little brown bird sar away louder than ever, -and Carl stood with uplift* hands and eyes, while his father picked up the gold You may be sure that the wonderful little 1 Have" had a soft, warm nest prepared in a very sho: time, and so comfortable did he find his quarters, thi he lived with Carl all his life ; and when the weave died at an advanced age, the little brown bird san a strain of triumphant melody as he soared upward, as though he would fain express that his good frien FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 75 arl had laid up never-failing riches above. Thus le wonderful "I Have" made Carl rich and con- jnted during his life, and happy in death ; but as >r poor Klein, nothing more was ever heard of him, ad for aught we know, he may be chasing the de- aptive " Oh, Had I " even until now. "Is that all!" exclaimed the children, as Aunt itsie closed the manuscript. " Yes," replied the old lady ; " I read you a short tory this time, because you are sleepy and tired." " Oh no, we are not, indeed ; the story was a great leal too short," cried many voices. "Be cheery, be cheery," screamed little Lily; "I Lm the little brown bird, and will coax another golden story from Aunt Elsie to-morrow night." The children all laughed, and Bertha Carrol said : " True, Lily, I think we are making poor appli- 3ation of Aunt Elsie's beautiful story, not to be con- tented with the < I Have,' but still longing after an ■ Oh, Had I.' " " You mean a longer story," said Norah Graham ; ; < it was too pretty to be so short. I wish Aunt Elsie had spun it out." 76 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. "It sounds like a German story," said Harry Wil- der; "and the 'I Have' personifies Content, of course." " It is taken from a German fancy," replied Aunt Elsie ; " they say there are two such little birds in the land, and they call them ' Habtch and Hattch.' " " Droll names enough," laughed Ernest ; " but I like the story much. " After this my motto shall be, 1 Contentment is great riches." "I wonder what became of Klem," said Frank Field, musingly ; " it seems so natural to be ever striving after the bright and unattainable, that I do not wonder at his choice." " Take care, Frank, don't get bewitched by an ' Oh, Had I,' I beseech you," cried Harry, " particu- larly with such a sweet little ' I Have ' ever near you ;' " and he pointed towards Lily. Aunt Elsie gave an approving smile to Harry Wilder. She knew Frank's sensitive, dreamy, poeti- cal nature was illy fritted to encounter the hardships of his destiny, and she saw that Harry Wilder under- stood him thoroughly, and strove to strengthen and cheer him, with his hearty common sense. George had sat musingly apart, but he now ap- proached Aunt Elsie with a pencil and paper in his hand. " Will you please tell me how to spell those German words ?" he said. FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 77 Aunt Elsie complied, and George wrote them. lown. " And what use are you going to make of ' Habtch ,nd Hattch,' may I ask?" questioned Aunt Elsie, :indly. " I am going to paint the i Habtch' on my sled," eplied George, frankly, " to remind me always to be ontent with ' I Have,' and let ' Oh, Had I' alone." Aunt Elsie placed her hand approvingly on the >oy's shoulder, and Lucy Parker exclaimed : " Farewell, bright visions of six horses, red fea- hers, and bear skins ; Aunt Elsie can never be an Indian princess, or wear the cap and bells. The ' Oh, lad I' has vanished in the distance, and hereafter 7e must be contented to slide down hill on an insig- dficant ' I Have.' " "'I Have' is a great possession," cried Willie xraham, with his mouth full, " for I have a fine brown [roller, and oh had I some nuts, I should want no- ting more," he added, as Lily caught up the basket >f nuts and ran across the room, exclaiming : " Fellow them, follow them, Catch them, and crack them." The whole party joined in the chase, amid laugh- ng and singing, and after obtaining the wished-for 78 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. prize, the children regaled themselves, and in due time were snugly tucked away in bed, to dream oi "I Haves "and "Oh, Had Is." FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 79 CHAPTER IV. | A story ! a story !" cried a dozen merry voices, as Aunt Elsie joined the little group on the following evening. " A long story this time, if you please, and let it be just as pretty as the one of the little brown bird." Aunt Elsie made her way good-naturedly amidst the group of petitioners, some of whom were cling- ing around her, whilst others arranged the lights, and placed the footstool; and little Lily officiously climbed up on a chair, to unlock the old bookcase. "Patience, patience, my little people," said the old lady, as she witnessed their busy arrangements. " You have profited but little, I fear, from my lesson on the merits of Slow and Sure ; you are patterning after Klem now, and tumbling head over heels after < Oh, Had I.' " The children loudly denied Aunt Elsie's accusa- °® FIRESIDE FAIRIES. tion ; and as they seated themselves around the table Frank Field said : "I have been thinking that perhaps it is not right, after all, to be contented with things just as they are, for then we would never be anxious for im- provement." " True, Frank," answered Harry Wilder. « Sup- pose our ancestors had been satisfied with their clumsy implements, and slow coaches, where would now have been our machinery and railroads?" "Your inferences are wrong," said Aunt Elsie. "The spirits of discontent, and of eager inquiry after knowledge, are entirely dissimilar. While we are taught to be content in whatever situation we are placed, yet we are nowhere forbidden to improve it by every lawful exertion ; at the same time, it is wise not to forsake a real good for a fancied benefit, and like Klem, overlook the 'I Have,' in our pur- suit of < Oh, Had I.' I never yet knew a discon- tented person who achieved any great end, while one who is constantly improving, is content, simply be- cause he is progressing towards ultimate perfection." " That is the true way to be contented and happy," said Ernest ; "to keep one's self always busy. Father says it is only stagnant water that becomes impure— rapid streams are always clear and healthy." "I wonder," said Frank, musingly, "whether any FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 81 one was ever contented; it seems to me everyone wishes for something that he has not !" " Yes," added May Lester, " and when they ob- tain the coveted prize, it becomes almost valueless to them, and they sigh for something more." " If it were not for this feeling there would be no such thing as hope, and we would never be happy without hope, you know," replied Grace. "I remember reading a story somewhere," said George, " of a gentleman who posted a bill upon his house, stating that the place would be given to any person who was perfectly contented, and when any one applied to him, he asked them, ' Are you per- fectly content V" When they answered, ' Yes,' he asked, ' Then what do you want with my house?' " The children laughed, and Harry remarked : " He must have been rather a cynical philosopher, for he enjoyed the pleasure of disappointing, and ridiculing others, while he kept his property safe." "He was a very selfish man, at any rate," re- marked Clara, " and cruel besides, to excite expecta- tions he never meant to fulfil." " I have often noticed," said Frank, " how many people seem to think themselves worse off than any one else, when they have a great deal more than most folks to make them happy. It is strange that they see every one else's good, and only their own evil." 82 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. Aunt Elsie looked fondly, yet sadly, on the little boy as she answered, smiling kindly on him : " Take care, my dear Frank, that you do not be- come one of those who wilfully stand in the shade of their own path, and grumble at the sunlight that falls upon that of another. We must ever strive to remember, that whatever troubles or trials befall us, they are directed by a never erring Providence, who ordains for us those burdens we are most able to bear, and if we were to exchange places with those whose lot seems enviable, we would find it accompa- nied by some sorrow, for which we were entirely un- fitted." " That reminds me of the ' Mountain of Miseries,' I think it is written by Addison, in which every one is allowed to exchange miseries with his neighbor, and after a trial each person is glad to take up his own again," said Bertha. " Yes, I remember that," cried Lucy Parker, " and the description of the tall man exchanging his long legs for a pair of short ones, made me laugh enough. But now you have all been talking so sensibly that I dare not put in a word edgewise, and I am afraid the evening will be spent without Aunt Elsie's pro- mised story; so, ladies and gentlemen, will you be content to finish your conversation on another occa- FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 83 sion, and enjoy the present good contained in yonder old bookcase 1" The younger children warmly seconded Lucy's proposition, and after a little more talking, the group settled quietly down, like a swarm of bees, and the old portfolio being produced, Aunt Elsie selected a manuscript, which she said had some bearing upon their conversation, and prepared to read. Little Lily petitioned that the story should be a long one, as she was not at all sleepy. Norah polished Aunt Elsie's glasses, and Jessie shaded the light to suit the old lady's eyes; and thus, all being in readiness, the little folks listened attentively to the story of €\t lump; Mi tjp tn% $m. Once upon a time, no matter when — in a large city, situated no matter where — since if I were to tell you both time and place, it is not at all likely you would take a long journey to the city, and search its archives, to assure yourself of the truth of these wonderful events I am about to relate. Suffice it to say, on the veracity of a chronicler, that the story is as true as though the man in the moon had told it himself; therefore, be satisfied to learn, that in a cer- 84 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. tain city, at a certain time, lived two neighbors who were united in the strictest bonds of friendship and sym- pathy, each being equally poor, and equally afflicted. Andreas, the porter, was blest with a nose so enormously large as to cast a shadow almost as long as himself, so that he was obliged to be very careful, lest in turning the corners of the streets he should give his poor nose an unlucky blow. And the pedestrians, when they saw a long shadow creep- ing on the pavement, always stepped aside, saying with contemptuous pity, " Here comes Andreas, the porter, who carries his greatest burden between his eyes and chin." Besides being the possessor of so unusual a nose, poor Andreas had taken on himself another trouble, in the shape of a scolding wife ; who, although she never failed to leave a nicely prepared supper and clean hearth, ready for Andreas on his return home, yet always seasoned his food with so many gibes and cross words, and scolded so unceasingly if her un- lucky husband left a foot-print on the bright hearth- stone, that the tired porter would have been better contented to go supperless and cold to his bed, rather than to be fed and warmed at the expense of his quiet, to say nothing of an occasional tweak at the ungainly nose, that, as the wife too truly said, " was continually poking itself where it was not wanted/' FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 85 and she might also have added, "where its unfor- tunate owner had no idea it was going." On these melancholy occasions, the only comfort of the unlucky porter was to take his pipe and step into his neighbor Casper's house, sure of his sympathy and condolence. Casper, the cobbler, considered himself the most afflicted of mortals, for he was doomed to carry upon his back an enormous hump, larger than any package which his friend, the porter, had ever been known to lift. As he sat all the day pulling out his waxed thread, with his clamps between his knees, the smell of neighbor Andreas' savory supper came refreshingly to his nostrils, and he envied him the wife who could prepare his food so seasonably. By this you may know that Casper was a miser- able bachelor, who was obliged to boil his own coffee, and attend to his own affairs, since not a woman in the country could be found willing to share the home and poverty of the humpbacked cobbler. This was the only subject upon which the friends ever contended, each insisting upon the superior ills of his individual situation, and declaring that he alone was the most afflicted and miserable creature on the face of the earth. To Andreas the hump of his friend seemed only a package, never laid down, and he preferred the thick 8 86 FIRESIDE FAIRIES coffee and dirty hearth, to his own tidy home, with the ceaseless accompaniment of a scolding wife • while Casper considered the enormous nose of his friend the porter, as a mere trifle, compared to his everlasting burden, and thought the warm hearth and good suppers cheaply bought at the expense of a little quiet. While affairs were in this condition, the friends strolled out one evening after their work was done, to indulge in the comfort of reciprocal sympathy. It had been an unlucky day for poor Andreas ; his un- fortunate nose had met with several severe knocks and his tidy wife was tidier, and in consequence, crosser than ever. Andreas felt very unhappy ; he was quite sure that he was the most miserable man alive, and so he told his friend. Casper, on his part, insisted that his misfortunes exceeded his friend's tenfold, inasmuch that there was none who thought enough of him, even to give him a scolding now and then. The dispute waxed warmer, until the two friends became really angry, and the argument seemed likely to end in blows, when Casper, who was just about shaking his clenched hand at the' porter, started back in affright, for there, comfortably seated on Andreas' nose, and thumping his heels against its sides as though it were a horse, appeared the drollest little figure imaginable. # FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 87 He was not higher than a finger, and united in his own tiny figure the deformities of each of the combat- ants ; his nose being as long as his legs, and the hump upon his back nearly the size of his whole body. This comical little figure wore a red cap with a long tassel, and his small black eyes twinkled merrily beneath a mass of foxy -looking hair. When he saw that Casper had observed him, he sprang nimbly off the porter's nose and swung himself on the branch of a tree that grew near, then seating himself on the extreme end of the bough, commenced laughing immoderately, to the no small wonderment of the friends, who knew not what to think of this strange intruder. After a few seconds he recovered from his fit of merriment, and exclaimed, in a shrill voice. "How now, what child's play is this? Are ye so jealous of each other's beauty that ye must needs come to blows about it ?" This speech increased the astonishment of the two, and the dwarf, seeing their looks of frightened sur- prise, again addressed them. "Come, come, my friends," said he, in a good- natured tone, " never be afraid of one so much like yourselves, seeing that I might pass for the brother of either ; I mean you no harm ; tell me the cause of FIE.ESIDE FAIRIES. your quarrel, and who knows but I may settle it to the satisfaction of both ?" Hearing this reasonable address and kind offer, the friends took courage, and Casper, who (by reason,; perhaps, of never having a wife) possessed more bra- very than his comrade, told the dwarf the story of their respective infirmities, and the quarrel that had arisen therefrom. You may be sure he painted his own troubles in the strongest colors, and spoke slightingly of the por- ter's trials ; but Andreas interrupted him, exclaiming loudly, that the cobbler was a prince, beside him, and never was a poor mortal so afflicted as himself. To ail this loud and angry talking the dwarf made no answer but by immoderate peals of laughter, and the two disputants becoming enraged at his ill-timed mirth, turned to quit the spot, when the dwarf ex- claimed, " Stay, my worthy fellows, you must not wonder at my laughing that you should be so anxious to get rid of what I consider great ornaments. I suppose now you would call me deformed. I assure you I am considered the handsomest courtier in her fairy majes- ty's dominions. But since, like foolish, short-sighted mortals, you are not satisfied with your condition, what say you to an exchange? Andreas shall carry FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 89 he hump, and Casper take the long nose and scolding vife." " With all my heart," cried the porter, joyfully, : and never have I shouldered a burden so readily." " The smell of your suppers is very savory," re- )lied the cobbler, " and for their sakes I am well con- ,ent to take both nose and wife, in the bargain." " Are you agreed, then ?" asked the dwarf. " That we are," cried both ; " but how is this lappy exchange to be brought about ?" " Trust that to me," answered their new benefac- ,or. " All you have to do, is to take each a lozenge >ut of the box I will give you, lay it on your tongue, md go home as usual, Andreas to the cobbler's house, md Casper to the home of the porter. Then, how- rver it may seem to yourselves, to others it will ap- )ear that you have completely changed persons. Keep rour own counsel, and Casper, beware how you trust rour new wife with your secret." The dwarf thought he had made a fine joke at his, and fell again into a violent fit of laughter ; but uddenly checking himself, he said : " As I foresee, you will desire some other change re long, I will grant you two other wishes, on con- lition that they are made by both at the same mo- aent. See here," and as he spoke, he pulled two 90 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. strands out of his cap tassel and knotted them firmly on a high branch ; " whenever you agree to wish fo] the same thing at the same moment, come to this tree and with your united strength break off one of these threads : your wish will then be accomplished." The two friends were highly delighted at th.it promise, and after repeatedly thanking the dwarf who sat grinning among the leaves, they each accept ed the lozenge that he offered, and carefully marking the particular tree on which hung the charmed threads, hurried gayly on, anxious to test the trutb of the dwarf's promise. It must be confessed that Andreas crept timidlj past his open door, fearing that his wife would recog- nize him, and call him in ; while Casper stood trem- blingly on the threshold, watching the preparations for supper, and inhaling its savory odor, doubtful whe- ther he should enter. Presently the porter's wife looked up, and seeing Casper peering in at the door, exclaimed in an angry tone : " What are you standing gaping at, ye lazy lout ? here is the meat burnt to a crisp, waiting your snail's pace : must I e'en take hold of that long nose of thine, and drag ye in to supper ?" This speech, though it startled Casper, convinced him that he bore his friend's likeness, and so, pluck- FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 91 up courage, lie marched in and seated himself at table, without speaking a word. Owing to the mgeness of his new position, and the fear of do- something that would reveal his wonderful se- I poor Gasper did many awkward things, spill- • the salt, upsetting his cup, breaking the cer, and pouring the hot coffee over the nicely- ded floor. These things called down a volley of ,th from the tidy wife, who spared neither gibe hard word in her rage. Casper thought the best I to keep peace, was to keep silent ; and so man- d to eat a very hearty supper despite the " pepper- ■ of his shrewish companion. After supper the 3 bade him, in no very gentle terms, to shoulder a je parcel that laid upon the floor, and carry it up he loft ; but so awkwardly did the unlucky Casper il her commands^ that the pack tumbled off his k, and a loud crash betrayed the ruin he had oc- oned, as the bundle contained several necessary cles of housekeeping that the thoughtful housewife . just purchased. Here was a catastrophe ! never before was a r man so assailed and abused. Catching the un- iunate wight by the nose, she swung him round ! a cat, venting at the same time all manner of ing beside many blows upon his devoted head, 92 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. and concluding her scolding by telling her victim go to his friend the cobbler and learn to stitch leath< since he was fit for nothing else. As Casper crept stealthily to the door, after esca ing her grasp, he saw the porter looking warily at the window, evidently rejoicing that he was libc ated from this thraldom, and enjoying the scene I fore him. Casper hastened to join his friend. Andre; chuckled mightily over the poor cobbler, and d clared the dirty hearth, and muddy coffee, to be tl most delightful things in existence, enlivened by tl distant sound of his shrewish spouse's voice. Whi Casper, now partially recovered from his bruises an fright, declared himself perfectly willing to pay tl penalty in consideration of the hearty meal he ha enjoyed. After a long conversation on the wonderful evenl of the day, Casper carried his clamps into his ne home, glad to avail himself of the shrew's permissio to work at his trade ; while Andreas, who was igno: ant of shoemaking, was happy to proceed in his ol vocation. They parted with mutual self congratuh tions and great anticipations of comfort. Many were the jeers and scoffs that Casper wa doomed to bear, when on the following morning h FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 93 Lted himself at work, in leather apron, and with ,mps between his knees. I A fine work ye will make with tacking and reading ; all the gentry will come to you with their Des, to a certainty. We'll be rich enough now, I >w." These, and sundry other remarks, were iired into the poor cobbler's ears, as he commenced i task. But he found full soon that he had "reckoned ihout his host," as the saying is, when he took up i trade, for the long nose was terribly in the way, i received so many stabs from the awl, and knocks th the hammer, that he was fain to lay aside his rk before the day was over, amid the renewed jeer- j of the shrew. A good dinner comforted him in his afflictions, I he determined to await the appearance of his 3nd, and consult what was best to be done. In a )rt time the poor porter came toiling up the street, ed and worn. He beckoned to Casper as he ?sed, and went in his new home, where the cobbler m joined him. " This will never do, my friend," cried Andreas, •owing himself upon a seat as he spoke. " This rfouuded hump is burden enough without shout- ting any other. I cannot carry half as much as I 94 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. did formerly, and am tired to death, without hay: earned enough to buy my supper." "My case is equally cruel, I assure you," turned the other ; " since I find it impossible to dr out my awl without stabbing this unfortunate nc that I so foolishly borrowed of you, besides bei forced to bear all the abuse of your delightful wife At this the porter burst into a laugh, as he plied : " It was droll enough to hear my old cus mers asking where I had gone to; and great v their astonishment when I told them we had < changed callings. I said not a word about the otl change, of that you may be sure." " But what is to be done ?" asked Casper, do fully ; " we will both starve at this rate, as neither c work as we used to do. Had we not better go to t wishing-tree, and wish for some employment that w gain us a livelihood ?" " No," said Andreas, thoughtfully, « I think nc we might wish for something better than that, have it! Let us wish for wealth, riches unbounde and no work. What say you to that, my friend ?" "Agreed, with all my heart!" cried the oth< joyfully; "and let us go this moment. What happy thought of yours that was, eh, Andreas." Without wasting any more time in talking, | two hurried forward to the wishing-tree, and havii FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 95 and the threads, gave a hard pull together; the ring snapped, and just then they heard the merry, ocking laugh of the dwarf, but could see no one. Upon returning home, Casper found his scolding ate very busily engaged opening a large chest that pod on the table, while another, still larger, was aced near the door. Upon seeing her supposed isband, she exclaimed : " Come hither ye lumbering lout, and open this Lest, can ye ; ye don't deserve the good luck that is befallen you, I am sure. There !" she cried, as asper succeeded in forcing the lid — " there ! look . that, ye scape-grace, and bless your stars that sent e to be a wife to ye." As she spoke, she lifted out a handful of gold eces, and spread them on the table before the aston- hed Casper. " Where — where, did this come from ?" he gasped rth at last, overpowered by the sudden accomplish- ent of his wish. " Why, from one of my relations, to be sure. He ed and left me all his gold. There, read that," and te tossed a letter towards him. Poor Casper scarcely knew whether he stood on s head or heels, at this unexpected sight; but ter helping the dame (whom the gold had put in 96 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. unwonted good-humor) to secrete the prize, he has ened to tell Andreas the wonderful news. Upon arriving at his friend's, he was surprised 1 find the door carefully barred. After knocking se eral times very loudly, he saw Andreas peer cai tiously out of the window, and upon seeing Casper, I hastened to open the door just wide enough to adm his wondering friend. After carefully refastenin it, Andreas mysteriously led the cobbler into tt room, and there, displayed upon the floor, was a sigl that renewed Casper's astonishment. Twelve larg pots stood side by side, each uncovered, and heape to the brim with shining gold. As Casper stoope to examine it, the porter told him, how, when h went to boil his coffee, upon his return T ne, the pc constantly upset, the hearth was so >ken an uneven, and when he became impatient .id raise up the hearth-stone, to endeavor to place it evenlj these twelve pots of gold met his astonished gaze He then cautiously barred the door for fear of intei ruption, and proceeded to take the treasure from it hiding-place, when the coming of his friend disturbe< him. This was the wonderful tale that Andreas relate( to the cobbler, who in return, recounted his wonderfu accession of fortune, through his wife's relative. Both were of course convinced of the dwarf; FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 97 igency in this matter, and parted at last to devise chemes of enjoying their newly acquired treasures. Before long, a fine house appeared upon the spot phere the miserable hut of the supposed Andreas ately stood; a handsome garden, full of beautiful rees and flowers surrounded it, and the shrewish ady of the mansion, decked in the gayest ornaments, pent about telling every one how fortunate her hus- band was in having her for a wife. Casper, meanwhile, though dressed in fine clothing, nd living sumptuously every day, was far from happy, .^he dame continually tormented and taunted him with is dependence on her, and bewailed her sad fate in eing united to such a fright with his enormous nose. " If it were only a hump now, like our neighbor ae cobbler's, one might cover it with a velvet cloak," he would say, " but this horrible nose, it constantly asts a shadow on the path of my enjoyment." In society, Capser found his unfortunate nose a ibject of never-ceasing merriment ; and this, with is spouse's continual bickering, wasted him away to shadow, despite his good fare. He constantly reproached himself for exchanging mditions with Andreas. " Had I staid as I was," e would say to himself, " I should have found the ots of gold and enjoyed them without any thanks to 9 98 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. tills abominable woman ;" and so lie fretted away hi, time. Andreas, on his part, was afraid to spend anl thing in building a fine house ; he had a continua dread of losing his beloved gold, and spent all his day counting it over, to be certain not a piece was losi He denied himself food and drink ; his money wa his existence : at night he could not sleep for fear o robbers, and during the day gloated over his treasure thus growing more miserable and miserly every da; his life wore on. One night, Andreas the miser fell into a deep bu troubled slumber, and on awaking, his first though was of his darling treasure. He hastened to the spo where it was buried, when lo ! two of the pots wer< gone ; only ten remained ! Almost distracted, h counted them over and over again : there were ten an< no more. The truth burst on him ; he had been rot bed, plundered while he slept ! Maddened at his loss he rushed into the house of his neighbor Casper, whon he found striding up and down his splendid apart ments, looking as miserable and troubled as himself. " Oh, Casper, Casper !" cried the forlorn miser " I am ruined, my treasure is stolen ; let us away t< the wishing-tree, that I may recover my lost pots o gold." " To the wishing-tree," cried Casper, starting FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 99 :i yes, with all my heart." And without farther expla- nation off they started. Arrived at the wishing-tree, the charmed thread was easily found ; and Andreas, grasping one end, pulled with all his might, exclaiming, " My treasure- pots : oh, restore my treasure-pots !" while Casper, tugging away at the other end of the thread, cried, " I wish to be released from Andreas' shrewish wife and his long nose !" Thus each pulled and wished, but the string re- mained unbroken until Andreas exclaimed despair- " What are you saying there, Casper ? Wish with me, that rny two pots of gold may be restored." " Your pots of gold, indeed !" retorted the other disdainfully ; " you have plenty without them ; rather wish with me, that I may be rid of the torments of my life, that properly belong to you." M To me, do you say ?" cried the miser, angrily. : ' Did we not fairly exchange, and have I not this into- lerable hump to constantly remind me of my folly ?" " Your folly ! say mine rather," returned the cob- bler. " Have I not taken two burdens off your shoul- ders for the one I have put on ? But I tell you, you are a fool to grieve after two pots when you have ten left ; so come wish with me." " Never," cried Andreas, now thoroughly enraged, 100 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. K I would rather, ten times, have my wife and long nose again, than to yield one inch to you." " Done," cried Casper, quickly, " and I wish you would restore my hump !" Even as they spoke, the thread snapped in their fingers ; a low mocking laugh rang out upon the air, and the two disputants found themselves seated upon the greensward, each rejoicing in his own peculiar deformity. For a few seconds they looked at each other in a state of great bewilderment ; then Andreas gravely gave his nose a sudden tweak, to be sure of his own identity, while Casper rubbed his hump against a tree, to be certain that he carried his burden still. Each thought he had been dreaming ; but as one related his dream to the other, they were struck with their exact coincidence in events. So, puzzled and thoughtful, they wended their way homeward, expect- ing there to find some solution of the mystery. Arrived at their homes, every thing wore its old accustomed look. The poor hovel of Andreas and the dirty hut of Casper stood side by side as of yore ; no vestige of the fine house and garden remained ; but through the open casement came the savory smell of the porter's supper, and his wife wore no traces of her finery. They had gone out, just before sunset, on their accustomed walk; it was now evening; the towns- FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 101 folk passed and repassed as usual ; no remarks were made as to their absence, or of any unusual occur- rence having taken place. Andreas and Casper stood thoughtfully together, when, to their great surprise, the porter's wife came out, and remarking that they both looked weary, in- vited the cobbler to share their evening meal. This unexpected event convinced the friends that they were still bewitched ; and during supper, Andreas, encouraged by his wife's wondrous kindness, related their adventures. She was very much surprised, you may be sure ; but said she too had fallen asleep on their departure, and it seemed but a short time since they left home. Thus strangely bewildered, the three sat around the table, when Andreas's wife, who had some sense as well as temper, spoke. She advised them not to mention their visions to any person, as, whether it really happened or not, they had each profited by the lesson ; for her part, she would try and curb her tem- per, and Casper should live comfortably with them, while they should always remember that " Our wishes are not always our good." Whether some good spirit had been busy with them, or whether it took the combined influence of both friends to soften dame Andreas's temper, cannot be known ; but certain it is, that ever after the three 9* 102 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. lived in perfect harmony and peace, until, " As con- tented as Casper and Andreas" became a proverb in the town. Aunt Elsie closed the manuscript. "I think my story was long enough, even for Lily," she said, looking at her watch ; " it is now bed- time." "It was a droll story enough," cried Ernest, "and I did not think it long." " Nor I, nor I," cried each voice, as they rose from their seats, and prepared to put aside their several employments. " Its moral is, that, to be contented, is to be hap- py, is it not ?" said Grace. "Yes," cried Lucy Parker, "and no matter how ugly I grow, I shall never fret, even if my nose should rival that of Andreas the porter." " I think he had the worst of it," said Harry, "with both nose and wife to trouble him. Casper was a simpleton to exchange." " Now, Harry, you will certainly be a crabbed old bachelor," laughed Charles. « I will argue that point with you." " A truce to all arguments to-night, my young people," said Aunt Elsie, rising; "I would rather FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 103 see bright eyes in the morning, than hear bright speeches to-night; we have overstaid our usual hour." The argument was therefore indefinitely post- poned, and in a few moments, the little group had quietly dispersed to their several apartments. 104 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. CHAPTER Y. " It is dead, quite dead, I fear," said Jessie Les- ter, sadly, to her sister May, as they entered the room one very cold morning, after their return from a walk. May put aside her fur tippet, and looked tenderly down on the little bird that she was endeavoring to warm in her bosom. It was a robin, that the sisters had found apparently frozen and lifeless on the snow, and had carried home with them, hoping to restore it to life. May laid the stiffened songster against her rosy cheek, and folded it gently in her hands, as she an- swered : " It feels warmer now, Jessie ; I hope it is not dead. If you will untie my bonnet, sister, I will wrap the dear little thing in my fur tippet, and warm it near the fire." Jessie did as May desired, and the sisters knelt FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 105 in the hearth, and making a nest of the fur tippet, aid the apparently lifeless bird within it, and watched t with tender interest. " What have you there, my children ?" asked the :ind voice of Aunt Elsie, who had entered unnoticed I them, and was now looking over their shoulders. The story of the frozen robin was soon told, and |unt Elsie, smiling kindly, advised them to get a imall covered basket, and after putting some soft jyool or cotton in it, to stand it in a warm corner, not ;oo near the fire, as she did not think the fur tippet vould be at all improved by its present use. The basket was soon procured, and as May lifted :he bird and tenderly placed it within, she was sure me felt its little heart beat faintly in its breast. The children had all returned from their walks by this time, and many were the anxious peeps into the covered basket, despite Aunt Elsie's repeated in- junctions that it should not be disturbed. Before long a faint fluttering was heard in the basket, and on May lifting the cover, the robin hop- ped out upon the floor. He was weak enough, poor little fellow, and seemed unable to stand, while one wing dragged on the ground as if it were hurt. At a word from Aunt Elsie, little Lily flew off for some bread crumbs, which were softly scattered on the hearth so as not to alarm the little stranger, and 106 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. then the children concealed themselves behind the window curtains, or sat perfectly quiet in the far cor- ners of the room, watching intently the motions of the redbreast. He seemed frightened and bewildered at first, but gradually gaining confidence, as he found all still about him, ventured to pick up the crumbs, hopping around with increased spryness, and lifting up his head and winking his bright eyes, to the great delight of his attentive audience. Little Lily could scarcely contain her delight, as growing bolder, he hopped upon the ottomans and chairs, and seemed to become familiar in his new home. " Little bird with bosom red, Welcome to my humble shed," cried Lily, as the robin hopped on the sofa near the window, where she stood. " Daily round my table steal, While I pick my scanty meal," added Lucy Parker, holding forth both hands full of dough-nuts. The children's merry laugh startled the little fel- low at first; but as they gradually crept out from their hiding-places, and scattered crumbs before him, he became quite tame, to the no small delight of his 'new FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 107 friends, and the imminent danger of Aunt Elsie's carpet, from cake and bread crumbs every where showered upon it. With instinctive gratitude, the robin seemed to attach himself to May Lester, and ventured after a while to perch upon her hand, and eat the crumbs that Jessie offered him. Never was king on his throne more waited upon and followed than this little robin redbreast. After he had quite recovered, a consulta- tion arose as to what should be done with the new favorite. Some thought it cruel to cage him ; others opposed his going out into the snow lest he should freeze to death, as his wing was found to be hurt, so as to disable him from flying far. It was finally concluded to keep him that day, as he seemed so well contented in his new home, and to open a window on the following morning, giving him an opportunity to escape, if he liked. This point being settled, the children amused themselves nearly all day watching and feeding the feathered favorite. He showed no inclination to sleep when the lights were first brought in, and it was not until, having found a dark corner, he perched himself on the top of the old bookcase, with his head under his wing, that the children grouped themselves around the table, and begged Aunt Elsie for another story. Aunt Elsie good-naturedly put aside her work 10 ^ FIRESIDE FAIRIES. and complied with their request, by reading the following storj of £% M% Jtrit % liter % tm . Every one in the village loved little Florette, and what wonder, when she was so gentle and so good? Not only all the villagers, but even the dumb anij mals loved her, and felt pleasure at her approach. The little court-yard in front of her grandmother's cottage at the end of the lane, was crowded every morning with robins and swallows, who waited the coming of Florette to give them their breakfast, and who, after satisfying their hunger with the crumbs that she scattered plentifully before them, flew off to the neighboring trees and sang a sweet chorus of thanks. Florette lived quite alone with her aged grand- mother, and was the old lady's sole nurse and com- pany. NeV er was there a more faithful and patient attendant ; always cheerful, willing, and happiest when most employed. No wonder her grandmother loved her child better than all the world beside Little Florette went out into the shady woods, early one lovely summer morning. She had risen FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 109 oftly so as not to disturb her grandmother who was ist asleep, and after carefully drawing the muslin urtain, and closing the shutters, to shade the light rom the sleeper's eyes, tripped lightly down stairs nd out into the garden, to gather a fresh bouquet of ragrant flowers to adorn the breakfast table. It was yet very early, the grass bent beneath the reight of the dew-drops, and the bright sun was just )eeping over the tops of the tall trees, and striving o get a glimpse of the fair flowers that grew be- teath their shade. The fresh, pure breeze lifted the jolden curls from off the brow of Florette, and tinged ler cheek with the hue of her favorite rose. The little girl enjoyed the beauty and freshness hat every where surrounded her, and went gayly on, varbling a few notes in unison with the newly iwakened birds, or running swiftly forward to meet he breeze that she loved to feel among her hair. The bouquet was gathered, but in Florette's eyes ts greatest charm was absent. The child loved lowers as though they had been living things ; to ler they seemed to speak with many voices, and to be conscious of her tender care. But the wild flowers were her dearest favorites, and the spots where they grew, her accustomed haunts. None knew so well where the modest violet dwelt in its shaded home, or the mountain daisy 10 110 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. flecked the hill-side. Every wooded dell had been explored in the little flower-seeker's rambles after the brilliant golden rod, and lace-like alder blossom ; • and each brook-side bore the prints of her tiny foot- steps, as she sought the fairy-like forget-me-not, that loves to bathe its soft leaves in the stream. Little Florette went gayly on through brake and brier, in search of her wildwood favorites, that their sweet breath might mingle with that of their more cultivated sisters of the garden. The sun had not yet penetrated the thick foliage, and the blossoms seemed timidly awaiting his coming. As the little girl parted the twigs and branches that wove themselves into a natural trellis across her path, she suddenly uttered an exclamation of de- lighted surprise, for there, just at her feet, grew the loveliest flower that had ever met the gaze of the enraptured child. The boughs had intertwined again, as she withdrew her hand, and she found herself standing upon a soft greensward, surrounded with lofty trees, while close beneath their shade was the lovely flower. It was a lily of such rare and dazzling whiteness, as would shame the fairest of its garden rivals, while its fragrant breath floated like incense on the sum- mer air. The bud was not yet fully opened, but bowed its beautiful head, as though wearied with the FIRESIDE FAIRIES. Ill weight of diamond dew-drops that oppressed it, or like a captive princess, in the power of an enchanter, who bound her with a chain of gems, that it needed hut one smile from the golden sun to dissolve. Little Florette gazed upon the flower awhile in perfect delight ; then she advanced to pluck it from its stem, and place it with those she had already gath- ered. She paused ; it seemed so pure in its stately solitude, that she could not bear to spoil its beauty. With a steady hand she parted the foliage of the tree that shaded it most, and a bright golden sun- beam poured in through the aperture, and rested like a crown upon the lovely flower. With a smile on her lips, as radiant as the sun- beam itself, Florette looked fondly on the lily ; she thought it seemed to enjoy the mild morning beam, and lifted its head slowly from the stem. A long while stood the patient child, keeping back the en- vious leaves that sought to shut out the sunshine from the beauteous forest flower, and as she gazed delightedly upon it, she was sure that its leaves un- folded slowly, and the dew-drops disappeared, until it rested amid its dark green leaves, like a queen on an emerald throne, and proudly met the golden sun- beam. The little girl was happy in the evident enjoy- ment she had given the stately flower, when, even as 112 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. she gazed upon it, the leaves opened and spread more and more, and forth from the heart of the flower ap- peared a tiny form, white and radiant, while the lily seemed like a pearl shell beneath her feet. She rested lightly upon the floweret's edge as it swayed gracefully in the breeze, and, mingled with the sweet fragrance it exhaled, these words were borne to the ear of the wondering child : " Bright as the sunbeam that set me free, Little Florette, shall thy pathway be, And ever more shall a silver ray Light thy steps in thine onward way. Tears of sorrow, clouds of care, In thy presence no heart shall bear ; As the diamond chain from my bosom fell, Shall human grief vanish beneath thy spell. Blossoms bright shall round thee spring, Odors sweet their fragrance fling ; Little Florette, thou hast set me free, Blessing and blest shall thy future be." In her amazement, Florette had let the branches spring back from her hold, and as the sunlight left the flower, the fairy figure faded into air. When the little girl ventured to approach the plant, she saw no- thing more than the rich and lovely lily that had first attracted her. FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 113 Thoughtfully Florette left the wood ; she gathered o more wild flowers ; all her thoughts were upon the wonderful lily. She remembered to have read in some Id fairy tale, how beautiful spirits were imprisoned a .trees and flowers, and she felt sure that she had mknowingly liberated one of them. She was happy think the lovely lily fairy was freed through her aeans, but she never mentioned her unobtrusive acts 1 kindness, and so said not a word to any one of her .dventure in the woods. " Take care, dear grandmother," said Florette, as ihe tenderly supported the old lady's steps in her tfternoon walk, " take care ; there are stones in the >ath, and I fear you will stumble," and she stooped iown to remove them from the way. "Bless the dear child," answered the old lady, ? ondly, " I always see better when you are with me ; .ook there now, what a bright sunbeam falls just be- fore me ! and why, Florette, where did you find lilies to weave that wreath that you wear ?" The grandmother placed her hand on the head of bhe little girl as she spoke, and finding no flowers there, smiled as she added, " Nay, my old eyes have deceived me, it was but the sunlight flickering through the leaves." 10* 114 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. Florette made no reply ; but she wondered in her heart whether she did not wear a wreath woven by the lily fairy. It was strange how often, after this, the sunshine and the leaves formed magical crowns on the "brow oi the little girl. Frequently, when at play with her companions, or performing some little act of kindness for them, would they exclaim, " Florette is crowned with lilies !" But, upon grasping the apparent flowers, the wreath proved nothing more than shadows on her hair. The good old gardener declared that the sunshine grew brighter when Florette came near, and thai every flower flourished upon which she smiied ; while throughout all the village her presence seemed to shed a light and joy. Old and young felt this magic influ- ence, and loved the little girl. It happened one pleasant afternoon, that a partj of the village children went out into the woods tc gather blackberries. They each took a little basket with cake or biscuit, and promised to return home at sunset. Florette was not one of the number. Her grand mother was not very well that afternoon; and the little girl, though repeatedly urged by the old ladj and some kind neighbors, who promised to stay and take care of her, and coaxed by her companions, yet FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 115 teadily refused to leave her grandmother, and so re- lained at home, to the great disappointment of the ttle party. Florette saw them depart without one feeling of egret or impatience; and as she returned to her randmother's side, the old lady smiled again at her wn fancy, for she thought she saw a crown of radiant Hies among the curls of her grandchild. Long after sunset, the little party returned, wea- led and very sad. With many tears and hursts of ;rief, they told how one of their number was missing, !nd could nowhere be found. It was little Eddie, the >nly son of the lame widow. His mother, yielding to lis wishes and the earnest entreaties of the children, lad allowed him to go under the charge of his sister, ffho promised very faithfully not to lose sight of him ? or a moment. He was a little fellow, scarcely four years old, md growing weary with the walk, the children seated him on a bank, with plenty of cakes and Bowers, while they went a few paces farther, where the blackberries grew. They could see him as he sat there contentedly beneath the trees. Presently they went round to the other side of the bushes, and the leaves hid him a few moments from their sight. When they returned Eddie was gone ! With eager steps they ran to seek him, thinking 116 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. he could not have strayed far; but in vain they divided into groups and explored the woods, making the forest echo to their calls. The child was gone ; and fearing they would themselves be lost, they hast- ened home to tell the mournful tale. Every one in the village sympathized with the poor widow, who was almost crazed with grief. Eddie was a universal pet, and all the neighbors volunteered at once to go in search of him, as they thought he could not have strayed far, but had probably fallen asleep through weariness. None grieved more for the lost child than Flo- rette ; he was her own darling, her especial favo- rite, and the tears rolled down her cheek as she listened to the story. After sitting thoughtful and silent for a while, she suddenly rose, and standing close by her grandmother's side, said : " Grandmother, let me go and search for Eddie, I can find him, I am sure." The old lady looked up in surprise. "Why, darling," she replied, "it is now almost dark ; you would get lost yourself, in the thick woods. Our kind neighbors have gone after him ; they will bring him safely back." But Florette sunk on her knees, and looking up pleadingly, kept repeating ; FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 117 « Let me go, grandmother, I can find him, I am ure." The grandmother shook her head, and was about o refuse, when again she saw the wreath of lilies ■esting on the brow of the suppliant child. The slen- ler new moon was just rising, but a beam brighter han moonlight shone upon the little pleader, and ighted up her tearful face. A feeling almost of awe crept over the aged pa- rent, and laying her withered hands in blessing upon bhat fair young head, she said softly : "Go, dear child; I feel that no harm will befall you. Had you been with them, this would not have been. You staid for my sake, go now with my bless- ing, and all good angels guard you." Florette waited no second bidding, but thanking and kissing her grandmother, hastened out. She stopped to beg one of the neighbors to stay with the old lady while she was gone, and without waiting for any questioning, ran rapidly on. It was growing dark; the shadows of the trees were long upon the grass; the moon was not full enough to give much light, and as the little girl pene- itrated farther into the woods, the thick foliage shut (out the stars and fading twilight, so that she could (scarcely see the way. But Florette was not conscious of the increasing 118 FIRESIDE FAIRIES, darkness ; she knew all the green alleys and by-paths of the forest by heart, and intent upon her purpose went fearlessly on, calling loudly the name of Eddie and parting the twigs with unwearied hand, in the hope of finding the lost favorite. Ever as she walk- ed, a silvery light seemed to fall upon her path, en- abling her to explore thickets that to another would have been impenetrable. Long time she pursued her fruitless search, her heart beating with hope as the echoes returned her call, or a startled bird rustled the leaves near her. She had wandered very far, and even her hopeful courage began to fail as, wearied and desponding, she found herself surrounded on all sides by tall trees and thick underbrush, without any apparent opening. As she looked anxiously around, not knowing which way to turn, these words came, like the sighing of a light summer breeze, floating towards her : " Little Florette, gentle and good, Follow,— we'll lead you out of the wood." The wondering child looked down at these words, and there, as far as she could see by the faint light, appeared a row of stately lilies, marking with their white flowers a direct pathway before her. With a glow of gratitude, not unmixed with awe, Florette followed the track of the radiant lilies. They FIRESIDE FAIRIES. ] 19 eemed to spring up before her as she went, until hey led her out of the thick woods to an open space, 'here a brook rippled through the grass and amid be trees. The little girl paused an instant, and then, with a ry of delight, sprang forward, for there, upon the mooth turf, with his curly head pillowed on his dim- led arm, lay the little wanderer, the lost Eddie, fast sleep ! Florette threw herself by his side, and almost lined him with kisses, while tears of joy and thank- dness showered upon him. But the little runaway as too weary to be thoroughly aroused. He seemed mscious of her presence, for faintly returning her tresses, and murmuring, " My own Flory," he nestled I head in her lap, and fell fast asleep again. As Florette folded the tired wanderer in her arms, ie knew not what to do. Eddie was not able to ilk home, even if she could succeed in retracing her eps, and she was afraid to stay out in the woods all ght. While she sat undecided, a delicious frag- nce breathed around her, and again invisible, she ard sweet voices say : " Sleep, Florette, without a fear, Kindly spirits guard thee near, And the stars with eyes of love, Look upon thee from above. 120 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. Lilies fair shall make thy bed, Pillow soft thy weary head, Calmly shalt thou take thy rest, Safe as on a mother's breast. As the beam that set me free, So shall thine awakening be, Grief shall change to pure delight ; Sleep till morn. Good night, good night." As the last note floated on the air, Florette seem- ed to feel gentle arms twining round her, and sweet breaths fanning her brow ; a sense of happiness and security stole over her, and she slept. Florette awoke with a start ; it was early dawn ; the sun was tinging the tree-tops, and glancing on the brook. The little girl thought she had been dreaming ; — she looked down, there nestled Eddie, yet asleep in her lap. Many faces clustered about her, voices sounded in her ears ; in an instant the lost child was clasped in his mother's arms ; and Florette found herself surrounded by her friends. Many questions they asked, as to how she tracked the wanderer, but she could tell them nothing, save that she sought and found him. They told her how they had given up the search at night, and returned at daybreak ; how they had followed the course of the brook, fearing Eddie was drowned, and had found them both sleeping there, FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 121 They saw them at a distance they said, and they eemed to be lying upon a bed of lilies, while the /hite and pure flowers bent over the sleepers as hough shielding them from harm. But when they ipproached nearer, they found nothing but the green >ank, and the sunshine flickering amid the leaves, hough a sweet fragrance floated on the air. As Eddie was carried home in triumph, and Flo- ette, regardless of her wounded feet, tripped joy- usly along with her hand clasped in that of the :;rateful mother, what blessings and praises were howered upon her, and the widow exclaimed : "Look now, Florette wears the crown of lilies — >ut no," she added, as she laid her hand fondly on he child's head ; " like the bed of flowers we saw this aorning, it is only the sunshine, and the shadows of he leaves." Florette made no reply : her heart was full of trange emotion, for she knew that she had slept upon \ bed of flowers, and been lulled to rest in the arms >f the Lily Fairy. There were tears in the eyes of some of the roung listeners, as Aunt Elsie laid down the manu- script, and little Lily, throwing herself on May's lap, fobbed outright. U 122 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. "What is the matter, dear child?" asked May, kindly. " I don't know indeed," sobbed Lily, smiling through her tears, "but it seems as if you were Florette ; and then the frozen robin, and the lily, and poor lost Eddie, and my own self seem to be all confused together, and I must cry, dear May, because you are so good and Eddie is found again !" Another shower of tears followed this incoherent speech ; but Aunt Elsie, who understood the feeling that was struggling for expression in the child's heart, tenderly lifted Lily on her lap, and resting her head upon her bosom, said softly : " And now will you be my little Lily Fairy, and tell me what made the silver beam and the lilies follow Florette ?." " Because she was gentle and good, and not one bit selfish," replied the child. " And the silver beam is the light that kind words and actions always shed around," added Clara. " The crown of lilies is the glory of pure an<$ gentle thoughts," remarked Grace, thoughtfully. "Is it not so, Aunt Elsie V Aunt Elsie bowed assent, but ere she could speak little Frank Field was bending over his sister, and kissing her fondly, said : FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 123 " And this is ray safeguard from all selfishness, -my sib • "beam — my Lily Fairy !" The window was left open on the following morn- og, but the robin showed no desire to depart until he sun shone out at noon ; he then flew off, but owards night returned, and perched as before, on he old bookcase. During all the winter he was an ccasional visitor, and in stormy weather, a constant ;uest; but when spring returned, with buds and •lossoms, robin sang a sweet farewell, and flew away o join his mate. 124 FIRESIDE FAIRIES, CHAPTER VI. " I say, Frank, where did you put my ball ? you had it last," cried Willie G-raham, in an impatient tone, as he burst into the room. Frank looked pleasantly up from the map he was drawing, and replied : " I put it in your box, Willie, that stands in the corner of the play-room. I told you I would put it back, you know, and so I did." " But you didn't, though," answered Willie, with a flushed face, " for I have tossed every thing out of the box, and there is no ball there." "Perhaps, then, it has rolled away. I will go and look for it," said Frank, gently, and rising from his seat he left the room to hunt up the missing ball. Willie threw himself on a chair in a pet ; he was evidently in a very ill-humor with Frank, and mut- tered something about wasting all the afternoon just for other people's carelessness. FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 125 Nobody spoke to him, and Aunt Elsie looked very jrave, when the door opened and Frank appeared. " I am sorry that I cannot find the ball, Willie," said he ; " I have searched every where. One of the Doys must have taken it out, for I am very sure I mt it safely away. Wait a moment, and I will run >ut and ask them." " You need not trouble yourself," cried the other, mrriedly rising with an angry face. "I know no >ne has taken it, because I am sure you never put it i)ack. I warrant it is buried up in the snow where 70u left it. It serves me just right for lending a )all to such a stupid bookworm, and the next time rou want to borrow one, Master Frank, please to ask iomebody else." So saying, Willie banged the door very uncere- noniously after him and went to join the boys, who vere playing ball out upon the grounds. Frank returned to his seat with a troubled face, tnd sat thoughtfully looking in the fire. " Willie is in quite a rage," said Lucy Parker, vith a smile. " He is a very cross, naughty boy, to speak so to ny own Franky, who never loses any thing," added ittle Lily, kissing her brother's cheek. "When did you have the ball, Frank?" asked iunt Elsie. 11* 126 FIRESIDE FAIRIES, " I had it yesterday morning," he replied, re- pressing the tears that rose to his eyes, at the thought of Willie's rude speech ; " and I am certain that I returned it, because I remember that the box of nine- pins was upset, and I arranged it at the same time." " And I saw the ball lying on the box late last night, when I went to put away our tea set," added Jessie Lester. Just then the door opened, and Willie entered. He looked very serious, and going up to Frank held out his hand, saying : " I spoke very unkindly to you, Franky, and have come back to ask your forgiveness. I am very, very sorry that I called you a stupid bookworm, and said you didn't return the ball, for I know you always tell the truth. If it is lost I am sure it is not your fault, and you are welcome to any thing I have. Will you forgive me, Frank ?" Frank grasped the proffered hand of his play- mate, and with a glad, bright smile, assured him of his entire forgiveness, and besought him to say no more about it. Meanwhile the other boys came in from their play, and after the warming of feet and hands was pretty well over, and the talking and buzz had subsided, Aunt Elsie spoke : " Has any one seen Willie's ball?" she asked. "It seems that it cannot be found." FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 127 " Why, yes," cried George, " here it is ;" and he Dulled the ball from his pocket, as he spoke. " Don't you remember, Willie, that I asked you to lend it to oie early this morning 1" " Oh, yes," answered Willie, coloring. " I remem- ber very well now. I was scarcely awake at the time, and must have fallen asleep afterwards, and so forgot all about it. I am heartily ashamed of having accused any one of losing it. I am very sorry, Frank." Frank put up his finger. Aunt Elsie deemed it best to take no farther notice of the affair, as Willie had acknowledged his fault, and the tea bell ringing just then, the hungry group were soon doing ample justice to the good things spread before them. After tea little Lily sat thoughtfully before the fire, at Aunt Elsie's side, while Norah Graham leaned upon the old lady's knee. "I have been thinking," said Lily, "what the good spirit was, that made Willie apologize to Franky for his cross words." "It was his generous heart," replied Norah, a little proudly. "More likely, shame," said Lucy Parker, who now joined the group. " Or a voice like that of the Shadowless," added Grace. 128 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. "Pray, Aunt Elsie, what was it?" asked Lily, looking up appealingly. The old lady smiled, but made no answer. She rose from her seat, and opening her portfolio, looked over her papers, and selecting a few, seated herself at the table, saying : " And now I will read you a story." ' The elder children looked surprised and pleased at this rather abrupt announcement; and Norah whispered to Lily : "Now we shall find out what prompted Willie to acknowledge his fault " Lily nodded, and both seating themselves on low stools at Aunt Elsie's side, listened with eager inter- est to the story of % Wnhxkl afafcjr. " This is my birth-day," cried little Artolphe, joy- ously, as he entered his father's study—" this is my birth-day, dear father, and I am so very anxious to see the beautiful present that you promised me when I at- tained my tenth year." The father looked up from his book, very plea- santly, and drawing his little boy towards him, spoke FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 129 fectionate and playful words about the mature age > which his son had arrived, and kissed his brow :mdly. Then he arose, and opening a private drawer of is writing desk, took thence a small red morocco ise, which he gave to the expectant boy. Artolphe eagerly opened the clasps, and cried out ith delight, on beholding a small and exquisitely ade watch suspended to a slender gold chain. After the little boy had sufficiently admired his 3W possession, his father called him to his side, and .king the watch in his hand, said : " This watch, my dear Artolphe, was given to you hen you were born ; but as it is far too valuable for 1 infant's toy, I have kept it carefully until I con- dered that you were old enough to take proper care ? it yourself: I have always endeavored to regulate so as to keep true time ; and now, before resigning into your charge, I must tell you some of its pecu- ar virtues." Artolphe looked earnest and attentive, and his ,ther continued : " This watch not only tells you the time, but teaches ou how to spend it profitably, besides being a faithful lonitor, and warning you very plainly when you do rong. You observe how silently the hands move pon the dial ; it makes no ticking, like an ordinary 130 FIE.ESIDE FAIRIES. time-piece, but whenever you hear its ' tick-tick,' how ever softly, pause in what you are doing or think ing, for you may be sure it is something wrong." Artolphe was very much surprised at hearing these wonderful qualities of his new watch, and asked his father who made it, and who it was that gave it to him. " It was made and given you by your best friend,' replied his father, " and you can show your gratitud* for the gift by carefully attending to its admonitions and above all by regulating the watch itself. If yoi' disregard its gentle ticking, the sound will become louder and louder ; but you must take care lest, hear ing it so constantly, you become insensible to its voice as by continual ticking the main-spring will break and then it is ruined for ever, unless the same kinc friend who made it should graciously please to repah it for you. But by wilful neglect of his gift you wil forfeit his friendship and favor. The oftener it ticks to remind you of your faults, the more disordered M becomes, and you must never neglect to regulate il every night and morning. In this book you will find the proper directions for its use, together with the promise of future benefits from the friend who gave M to you : and now, my dear son, I give this invaluable gift into your possession, and hope you will deserve its benefits by attending to its teachings." FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 131 He then clasped the chain that held the watch wound the little boy's neck, and gave him the book 3ontaining the rules for its proper management. Ar- fcolphe thanked his father a thousand times, and pro- mising to regulate it carefully, hastened away to ex- amine at leisure the beautiful and wonderful watch. All that day and the next, Artolphe could think of nothing but his new possession, and was very careful to regulate it by the rules he found in the book. During all this time it had not ticked once ; but the following day had been set apart for an excursion, and Artolphe expected a great deal of pleasure. When be awoke in the morning, the rain was pouring down in torrents, and the thick clouds gave sure evidence of a stormy day. The little boy was terribly disappointed, and con- sequently ill-natured ; he became cross and impatient, and talked very foolishly about its raining on purpose to torment him. When his father told him to go to his lessons, as the excursion must be postponed, he went with a very ill grace, and taking his book, dashed it on the floor with vexation. Just then he heard a " tick-tick" very distinctly ; he was startled, and listened thoughtfully. " Tick-tick," spoke the voice of his monitor. A blush of shame crimsoned the brow of the now repentant boy, as he lifted his book and earnestly be- 132 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. gan his task. The wonderful watch had not warned him in vain, and his ill-humor disappeared. The next day was clear and bright, and the pro mised excursion was taken. When Artolphe saw how refreshed and beautiful every thing looked after the rain, and that there was no dust to annoy them, he felt doubly the folly of his disappointed impatience, and could not refrain from telling his father all about his vexation and the ticking of the wonderful watch. His father then told him that the friend who made him that present, was his own best and truest friend also, and that if Artolphe properly valued his gift, he would be a benefactor during all his life. He said that he himself always applied to this friend for ad- vice and assistance, and received all benefits from his hand. When Artolphe heard this, he determined to be more careful than ever of his precious gift. Time wore away, and the possession of the won- derful watch had ceased to be a novelty. It frequently ticked when Artolphe thought he did not deserve reproof; but it had already prevented him from doing many improper things, and broken up several bad habits by its gentle and timely voice. Artolphe kept it in pretty good order ; but some- times, when he went to bed very tired, or rose rather late, he neglected to regulate his watch, and then what a ticking it kept up during the day ! Artolphe FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 133 was sometimes tempted to give it up altogether, but ipon reflection always found that the watch was right, md so repented of his neglect and inattention. Some time after this, Artolphe was sent away to chool, and here his watch proved his faithful and un- wearied monitor. He had never been thrown much n the society of boys, and at the school there were nany who not only appeared to possess no watch to yarn them, but who seemed to delight in doing mis- bief, or what they knew to be wrong. When they discovered the mystery of Artolphe's vatch, they teased him incessantly about it, and aughed at him for being so foolish as to regard its r oice. But the impressions he had brought from his iwn happy home, were yet fresh in his mind ; and >eing fortunately upheld in his good resolutions by me or two older companions, Artolphe became more watchful over himself and more attentive to his faith- ul monitor's voice, until he obtained the sobriquet I the " Watchman." For a long while all things went on well, until, mfortunately for Artolphe, his two friends were call- id away from school, and the little boy was left to iombat the taunts and sneers of his companions quite done. Artolphe persisted in his course for a time, but Deing very affectionate, he could not bear to find him- 12 134» FIRESIDE FAIRIES. self shunned by all his associates for what they called his foolish pride of morality, and so little by little he yielded to their influence. Often when warned bj the ticking of his watch, not to join in some forbiddec pleasure, the sneering laugh, or apparently affectionate pleading of his companions, prevailed, and he endea- vored to silence the voice of his monitor in boisterous mirth. It is just to some of the boys who enticed him, that it should be told, they did not see the harm of what they did, so plainly as Artolphe, because they had not been taught ; and of course the blame of Ar- tolphe was threefold. As the boy became accustomed to the now almost constant ticking of his watch, its voice was disregard- ed, and he scarcely ever thought of looking in his book, or endeavoring to regulate it. When he did make the attempt, he found his watch so much disor- dered by long neglect, that it would be a great labor to put it in order again, and so he became indifferent and left the task undone. Winter came with its usual enjoyments, and the boys were anticipating with delight the merry Christ- mas vacation, but in the mean time were busy devis- ing schemes of pleasure. Some of them proposed a skating frolic, on a very large and deep pond, a lit- tle distance from the house. This, the teacher posi- tively forbade, as the season had been unusually FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 135 mild, and the ice was not sufficiently solid to insure safety. Most of the pupils submitted to his authority, but a few of the most daring rebelled, and determined to enjoy the forbidden pleasure. The nights were moon- light, and they resolved to steal out softly after all had retired, " to have a good skate." Artolphe was persuaded to join this reckless party, who declared their willingness to undergo punishment in the event of a discovery, rather than forego their favorite amusement. The appointed night came, and Artolphe sat upon the side of his cot, ready dressed, and awaiting the preconcerted signal. His lamp had been extinguish- ed, and there was no light except the bright, pure moonshine, that poured its full beams upon him. As the boy listened anxiously for the given signal, the loud " tick-tick" of his watch, smote upon his ear. " Tick, tick, tick," how fearfully loud and distinct it was ! It seemed like the heavy stroke of a ham- mer on the boy's heart. He could not silence it then by boisterous gayety ; Vut there, in the solemn hush of the night, in the pure rays of the moon, he sat and listened to the warning note. " Tick, tick, tick." Artolphe leaned down his head and thought. 136 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. He remembered his father's words, his own broken promises, and his teacher's commands. He thought of his present disobedience, and shuddered. He was about to steal out, like a thief in the night, to par- take a dangerous pleasure, at the expense of duty, truth, and every principle of right. As he reflected on his present conduct, the memory of past trans- gressions rose vividly before him, and the tears coursed down his cheeks. " I will not go," he said resolutely. And then the watch was stilled. Just then he heard the given signal, and crept softly to the window ; his companions stood beneath with their skates in hand. He shook his head, as token of dissent to their invitation, and they pointed their fingers scornfully at him, and went away, some beckoning him to follow. Artolphe turned from the window, and his eyes rested on the skates. It was a moment of tempta- tion. He imagined the jeers of his companions, and turning again towards the window, watched their re- ceding forms as they stepped rapidly over the frozen ground. He could see the clear ice-floored pond, gleaming in the moonlight like burnished silver, and he hesitated. " Tick, tick, tick," came the warning note ; and FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 137 now it seemed to fill the room with its earnest solemn sound. Artolphe yielded to impatience. He drew the watch from his bosom, and would have cast it aside in anger, but the chain held it firmly ; and now it seemed to thrill beneath his touch, in the earnestness of its expostulation. He paused — his gaze rested unconsciously upon the neglected book of rules for the regulation of his inestimable watch. It was covered thick with dust, for it had not been opened in very many weeks. He took down the neglected volume, and opened it there in the bright moonlight, and his glance fell on some of the glorious promises for the future, pro- vided he fulfilled his duty and was careful of his gift. Artolphe was startled. " Shall I resign all this good for an hour of stolen pastime ?" said he to him- self. " No, 1 will not go." He put the watch back in his bosom, and seating himself by the window, read from the long neglected book in the clear moonlight. Suddenly a sharp, terrible cry broke the stillness. Artolphe looked out, and there in the distance he could see the forms of two boys, wildly tossing their arms as they struggled amid the ice, on the now broken surface of the pond — the rest had disap- peared. 138 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. Again and again, in quick succession, arose the screams of fear and agony. Quick as thought, Artolphe sprang to the great bell that was rung to awaken the household at morn- ing. With all his strength, he pulled the rope, and the loud clang that startled the silent echoes, was in- stantly answered by the teacher himself, who opened his door in alarm. " Oh, come, do come, they will all be drowned !" cried the agitated boy, still pulling at the rope. Several members of the family now appeared. " Where are they 1 — what is it ? — what can be the matter ?" cried different voices, as they now distin- guished the cries. " The pond ! the pond ! they will sink and die !" repeated Artolphe, rushing to the door. The teacher and ushers, having hastily thrown on their clothes, followed hurriedly ; they began to un- derstand it now. Artolphe flew before them like the wind. " Keep up !" he shouted, " help is coming !" They reached the pond, and two boys were ex- tricated just as they were sinking. A third was dragged out lifeless from beneath the ice. They could find no more. But Artolphe knew that there were five in all. FIRESIDE FAIK.IES. 139 sle told the people who had now gathered, and they earched for them in vain. I They bore the senseless hoys to the house, and iried every means to restore them to animation. ?wo recovered consciousness, hut the third never !woke again. The bodies of the other two were recovered on he following morning, and Artolphe told the teacher he history of the past night's scheme. As Artolphe stood beside the cold and lifeless forms of the three drowned truants, and remembered low he had seen them last, pointing jeeringly at him, i feeling of trembling awe crept over him. Might he not have been one of them 1 ? This nought sent the blood back to his heart ; he shud- dered, and remembered with a prayer of thankfulness i.he warning voice of his faithful monitor. i When Artolphe returned home at Christmas, he nade a full confession to his father of all his evil leeds, and as he dwelt with horror upon the tempta- ion and terrible scenes of that fearful night, he pro- mised, with many tears, never again to neglect the nvaluable treasure he possessed, but to heed faith- fully its warning admonitions, and its slightest note. And Artolphe kept his word. 140 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. The story was finished, and Aunt Elsie, turning • to Lily, asked : " And now Lily, what prompted "Willie to acknow- ledge his fault ?" " I think," answered the little girl, with a bright smile, " that Willie must wear a wonderful watch, to tell him when he does right or wrong." " To he sure he does, and so do you," remarked Clara. " And so do we all," cried Bertha. "What can it be," asked Norah, thoughtfully. "Oh, I have it now: the wonderful watch was Con- science, and the chain that would not break, was good habits." Aunt Elsie smiled approvingly. "Willie was a good boy to obey it," whispered Lily to Norah, " and I love him befter than ever." " Aunt Elsie read that story for my especial ben- efit," said Willie, cheerfully, "and my conscience applies it. I only hope I shall always keep my wonderful watch in such good order that its slightest ticking will alarm me." " You must give good heed to the book of laws, then, Willie," remarked Grace. " Which is the Bible," added May, " and prayer is the key to regulate our conscience with ; is it not so, Aunt Elsie ?" FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 141 w " Yes, my children," answered the dear Aunt Slsie, " and happy would it be for all of us, if our onsciences were ever kept regulated by that pre- ious book, so that its still, small voice might check ls with its warning note. Remember that each of r ou wear a wonderful watch, presented by the Great river of all good, and to Him you are accountable for ts safety. Be careful, therefore, that ye despise not ds friendship, but profiting by the fearful warning of \.rtolphe, resolve to follow his after example of good onduct, and go and do likewise." 142 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. CHAPTER VII. The little party were all invited to a juvenile festival in the neighborhood, and very pretty they looked when assembled in the dear old parlor to get tho- roughly warmed before starting. Such a hum of merry voices arose from this little social swarm as made the room buzz again with the cheerful sound. And the display of rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes, white collars, and smoothly-braided hair, was suggestive of all the pleasant associations of joyous childhood and innocent mirth. The girls were neatly attired in high merino dresses, finished at the throat with narrow rich lace. They wore no ornaments, for they needed none, save their own unshadowed sunny heauty. With an affec- tionate and graceful feeling they had endeavored to dress as nearly alike as possible, and they chose their " uniform," as they called it, to be a plain one, because they went to enjoy as children, and not to be admired FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 143 3 belles. Dear good Aunt Elsie went busily amidst le little group, smoothing the braided hair of one, ^ranging the folds of another's dress, tying mufflers, arming mittens, and seeing that the little feet were ell protected from the cold. Old Dinah, too, was there, her arms piled to her lin with cloaks and tippets, waiting the calls of their jspective owners. Her shining face expanded with fmpathetic pleasure, and peering out from behind er screen of clothing, to catch a glimpse of the "little iries," as she always called them, " specially Miss ■jr." And now all were in readiness. The large sleigh as at the door, and the merry group in the hall, when .unt Elsie, who stood at the parlor door, waiting the )11 of a kiss from every smiling passer-by, exclaimed, " But where is Bertha ? I have not seen her yet." And then it was remembered that Bertha had not et come down, and Norah Graham was running up ;airs to find what delayed her, when Bertha herself ppeared, bonneted and cloaked for her journey. " I am quite ready," she cried, running hastily up ) kiss Aunt Elsie, " and not at all cold ; come, let us e off; don't say I kept you waiting." " Whew ! Bertha means to be queen to-night," ried Ernest, as his sister's cloak flew open, " see what 144 FIRESIDE FAIRIES, a fine dress she has on : girls, hide your diminish heads." " Nonsense, Ernest, how you talk," answered Be tha, blushing confusedly; then hastily folding h mantle about her, she followed her companions, son of whom were already seated in the sleigh ; not, ho^ ever, before the quick eye of Aunt Elsie had note that she wore a dress of rich and costly silk, which si had brought only to be worn, as her mother desirei on very particular occasions. Breakfast was later than usual on the followin morning, for the children were unused to dissipatioi and sleep hung heavy on their eyelids. But when e last the morning meal had been discussed, and thei spirits resumed their usual tone, the remembrance c the previous evening's enjoyments came fresh upo them, and every tongue assured Aunt Elsie that th party had been a delightful one. Bertha said less than any of her companions, an Aunt Elsie knew, by her unwonted silence, that some thing had gone wrong with her at least. When the group had dispersed to their several em ployments, little Lily remained with Aunt Elsie, an< when the old lady had seated herself in her accustome( chair, the child laid her bright face on her kind friend'; lap, and said, with a little sigh : FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 145 "Do you know, Aunt Elsie, I am afraid Bertha lidn't enjoy herself at all last night." " Indeed, my dear ! why not ?" asked her listener. " I can hardly tell why, but I know what I think," nswered the little girl thoughtfully. " And so, Aunt Slsie, I will just tell you all about it. You see, Ber- ha didn't dress like the rest, although^ they expected ler to. She wore her figured garnet silk with short ileeves, and deep lace round the neck ; then she had i necklace and brooch, and her hair all curled. I ponder she did not let you see her, Aunt Elsie, for he did look so beautiful. I think she wanted to urprise us. I thought every one would admire her, >ut some way they did not seem to notice her much, ,nd I thought she looked disappointed and unhappy. )ne lady, who sat next me. asked if Bertha belonged .0 our party ; and when I said, yes ma'am, she re- narked that it was a wonder she did not dress like he rest, and added, ' She must be very proud.' Ano- her lady said, ' Who is that vain girl in the corner, vho evidently thinks herself a young lady % It is a )ity she is overdressed, for she is really quite hand- ;ome.' I longed to tell the ladies that Bertha was leither vain nor proud, but they didn't seem to notice ne because I was so little, and I did not like to speak. \.nd then, what was worse than all, an ugly ill-man- aered boy was offended because Bertha refused to 13 146 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. dance with him, and he nicknamed her the ' empress,' % and pretended to wait upon her all the time, just to tease her, you know. And when he handed her some lemonade, he awkwardly spilt it on her dress, spoiling it entirely. Instead of being sorry, he only laughed. Was not that outrageous conduct ? Another accident happened beside ; the rich lace on her sleeve caught in a pin during one of the games, and tore a great piece off. Bertha looked so very unhappy after this, and went into a corner all alone : she would not join in any plays afterwards." " And did none of her companions make any re- marks about her dress to Bertha ?" asked Aunt Elsie, when Lily paused, fairly out of breath. " Yes," answered the child, " Lucy Parker asked her why she didn't wear her merino dress, and she said [ because it was too short ;' and you know, Aunt Elsie, Bertha would never tell a story." " I do not think she would, my dear," replied the old lady dryly, « but the dress might have been length- ened in time." Little Lily was commencing a warm defence of hei friend, when several of the little folks entered and interrupted the conversation. Nothing more was said upon the subject; but Aunt Elsie thought the short frock was not the only reason of Bertha's gay dress, FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 147 for she had observed pride to be the young girl's great- est fault. After dinner the young people plead hard for a story, as they felt no zest for their usual pastimes, and expected to retire early. Aunt Elsie had an object in view, and did not refuse their request ; but, pro- mising them a good long story, selected and read the following, called Fairest of all the village maidens was the young Yiola. Her step was lighter than that of the startled fawn ; her voice sweeter than the nightingale. - The melting eyes of the far-famed gazelle were dim com- pared with hers ; and her form was like the graceful willow swayed by the gentle breeze. She was indeed the queen-rose in the garden of loveliness; but as every rose must have a thorn, so Yiola, being con- scious of her beauty, marred its perfection ; and they who admired this human flower, were nevertheless pierced and wounded by the hateful thorns of va- nity and pride that clustered thickly around it. Proud as she was, Viola had nought but her beau- ty to boast. Her family were very poor, and at the 148 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. summer f&tes she was distinguished as much by her exceeding homeliness of dress, as by her surpassing loveliness. Though she needed no other adornment than her own charms, she was very fond of finery, and thought herself wonderfully improved by some tawdry ribbons, or gilded trinkets fantastically dis- played upon her person. Despite her faults, Viola had some fine qualities, but her intolerable pride and vanity, like a black cloud, veiled the sun of her goodness, and thus to have grown ugly would have been the happiest event of her life. Her beauty won many admirers among the vil- lage swains, but of all who flattered or followed her, young Constant was the most sincere. "While he de- plored her folly, he loved her truly, and would fain have won her for his own. But the haughty beauty looked disdainfully on her rustic lover. She prized her charms too highly to offer them willingly on the shrine of homely domestic life, and waited, like the maiden in the fairy tale, until a prince or a noble- man should come along and woo her. It happened one day that the rich lady who lived up at the castle, was riding that way, and seeing Viola, was surprised at her great beauty. Knowing something of her family, she asked the young girl to come up to the castle and stay a few days with her. FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 149 This kind lady wished to discover whether Viola was as good as she was handsome, as in that case she was determined to be her friend. This distinction quite turned the head of the pretty Viola ; she expected a thousand delightful things to happen in consequence of the visit, and already imagined herself riding in a grand coach, and mixing with the rich and great, quite forgetful of her former friends. So busy was she building castles in the air, that she kept aloof from all her associates, beginning already, in anticipa- tion of future greatness, to treat them with cold indif- ference. And as for poor Constant, he pined beneath her freezing manner, for she repented heartily the small degree of favor that she had hitherto vouch- safed him, deigning him not the slightest notice ; and her smiles, always rare, were now as unattainable as the philosopher's stone, and (by Constant at least) as eagerly sought for. There was one great drawback to Viola's dreams of felicity. Her pride could not brook the thought of appearing at the castle in her homely clothes, and how to procure others she knew not. She thought she would be despised on account of her dress, for she had not wisdom enough to know, that the kernel is more prized than the shell, and that a diamond will shine in the dark. Viola grieved and pined away, beneath her wound- 13* 150 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. ed .vanity and unattainable desire for fine clothes, until she was in a fair way to lose the beauty she so much valued. She became sad and melancholy as the time for her visit approached, and was sometimes tempted to forget it altogether. One evening as she walked disconsolately through the wood, she threw herself beside a bright fountain that lavished its silvery waters willingly in the soli- tude, as though every tree had been admiringly bent over it. Viola saw the reflection of her own fair face in the clear depths, and Narcissus-like gazed long and admiringly upon it. Then sighing heavily, she said, repiningly : " Oh, cruel fate, that granting me a beautiful per- son, denied me the power to adorn it. I might as well have been born the ugliest creature in the world, since none will expect to find beauty concealed in these miserable rags." Tears showered from her eyes as she bent over the fountain, but she started back in surprise, for she beheld therein the reflection of two other faces be- side her own. She thought it was the eddies on the surface that caused this threefold reflection, but as she looked up, there, on either side of her, stood a beautiful female. The figure on her right, was tall and of stately presence ; her dark eyes flashed with conscious pow- FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 151 er, and her haughty, yet beautiful features, bore the impress of command. Upon her brow she wore a tiara of rare and precious gems ; her purple robe fell in heavy folds to her feet, and was confined at the waist by a golden zone clasped with a diamond ser- pent. Her arms were adorned with circlets of gold and jewels, and she carried in her hand a golden wand, on the top of which was a superb rose, formed of the largest rubies, while pure emeralds, representing the green leaves, clustered around it. Equally beautiful, though entirely dissimilar, was the other figure. Her slight form, flexile as the young mountain ash, was draped in a robe of the purest white, that floated like gossamer about her. Tresses of soft golden hair fell almost to her feet, and were confined at the temples by a slender silver fillet inwrought with pearls. She carried a silver wand, graced with a single rose formed of delicate pearls ; and her soft violet eyes beamed with gentleness and love. • Viola gazed upon these beautiful apparitions with admiration and awe, when the stately lady spoke : "Fear not, Viola," she said, "we are here to serve you. In us you behold the respective queens of two kingdoms ; it is our privilege to select every year, a young maiden upon whom to bestow our benefits. Our mutual choice has fallen upon yourself; but as 152 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. we cannot both serve you, it remains for you to choose "between us, which you prefer to be your guar- dian and your friend." Viola listened in rnute surprise to this address, when the lady of the White Rose said, in gentle tones : " Before the maiden can make a choice, she must know what benefits to expect from each." " True," replied the haughty lady ; " let her see and judge." So saying, she approached the fountain, and wav- ing her wand above it, motioned Viola to come for- ward. Viola bent over the water, and there, mirrored within its clear depths, she beheld the interior of a spacious apartment, the walls of which were hung with gorgeous tapestry, and the floor covered with carpet rich in velvet flowers. Rare and costly arti- cles, such as had never, even in imagination, delight- ed the eyes of the young maiden, filled the room. Rut the object which riveted her gaze, was the figure of a beautiful girl seated before an immense mirror, adorning her hair with jewels ; every variety of rare and beautiful ornaments were scattered around in rich profusion, and in the female form so magnifi- cently attired, Viola beheld herself. FII1ESIDE FAIPJES. 153 The delighted girl gazed long and earnestly upon ',his vision. The Lady of the Red Rose knew well what would japtivate her fancy and gratify her pride. Even as she looked, the scene faded away, and in ts place appeared a splendid banquet hall, brilliant vith light and beauty. Crowds of persons superbly Iressed filled the apartment. Tables loaded with rich viands, and luscious fruits, and vases filled with rare exotics, added to the enchantment of the scene. Upon a chair at the extremity of the chamber, ivas seated one whose attire exceeded all others in magnificence, as her beauty eclipsed the fairest there. Each guest appeared anxious to attract her notice, md crowded about her with obsequious attentions, happy if repaid by a smile. With a thrill of triumph, Viola again recognized, in the proud queen of the banquet, the reflection of aerself. As the scene faded from her view, she turned inquiringly towards the Lady of the Red Rose, who, knowing what she would ask, said smilingly : " You have beheld, Viola, some of the gifts I have in my power to bestow, and have seen shadowed forth the fate that awaits you, if you make me your chosen guide and friend." Viola was about eagerly expressing her gratitude, 154 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. and accepting the proffered good, when the Lady ( the White Hose advanced and said : " Viola, yon will at least look upon the gifts proffer yon, though I fear they will prove unattra< tive." There was something irresistibly sweet and pei suasive in the gentle lady's voice, and with a feelin of shame, Viola once more looked upon the fountain The fairy waved her silver wand above the watei and immediately there appeared a rustic scene c perfect beauty. A white cottage nestled among th trees, like a dove in its nest. Delicate vines, rich h fragrant blossoms, curtained the open lattice, an* twined about the door. A small stream wound, lik a silver ribbon, amid the velvet fields, and over al breathed an air of perfect repose. A form, gracefully yet plainly attired, knelt b; the brook-side with a pitcher in her hand. Viola saw the reflection of the young girl's coun tenance in the stream : it was her own. A scene like this had no charm for the youn| maiden, who had just beheld such gorgeous visions and she turned aside with a dissatisfied air. When she looked again the scene was changed and she saw a happy group, bearing garlands o flowers, and strewing them before a maiden, who seated upon a green bank, appeared the centre o: FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 155 attraction. Purely arrayed in white, and crowned with roses, it was evident that she had been chosen queen of the May. The simple dress became her well, and with a feeling of satisfied vanity, Yiola re- cognized herself in the lovely May queen. She observed too, that there was something more than mere admiration in the faces of the group ; they seemed to love their chosen queen, and no trace of envy was discernible among them. All was innocent mirth, and unalloyed happiness. Yiola turned away and sighed. For one moment she felt that it was better to be loved than admired ; but her eyes were yet dazzled with the gorgeous pa- geant she had witnessed, and rising, she approached the Lady of the Red Rose, and bowed before her. The stately lady smiled graciously upon her, an then bending the ruby rose that graced her wand, toward the ground, there instantly appeared a beau- tiful rose-tree, laden with crimson buds. The lady placed the tree in Viola's hand, and said : " I know what your present desires are, and this rose-tree will accomplish them for you. Whenever you make a wish, pluck a bud and place it in your bosom ; your wish will then be immediately fulfilled. You must be very careful to keep the tree well watered; if you let it wither you will forfeit my favor, and lose the good I have in store for you. 156 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. When the buds are all plucked save one, bring the last one hither, and cast it in the fountain, when the tree will immediately be covered with flowers again." With sparkling eyes Yiola received the rose-tree, and promised to tend it carefully ; but when she would have expressed her gratitude, the stately lady had disappeared. As Yiola stood an instant in astonishment, the Lady of the White Rose approached; she held in her hand a rose-tree, filled with white moss buds, which she presented to the young girl, saying mildly : - u You will not prize my gift, Yiola, as your choice is made, but should the time come when the pleasure you now seek has lost its charm, you will find a balm in this tree. Whenever you place a bud in your bosom, you will feel contentment and peace. It will bring you also the gratification of all moderate de- sires. Every time you gather a bud from the crim- son tree, one of these will wither ; but I beseech you, Yiola, let it not perish from neglect; save at least one flower, and cast it on the fountain when you need a friend." Yiola accepted the proffered gift with downcast lids, and ere she could raise her eyes, the gentle lady, also, had vanished from her gaze. Upon her return home, Yiola placed the two rose- trees in her room, and anxious to test the power of FIE.ESIDE FAIRIES. 157 the stately lady from whom she expected so much, she plucked a bud from the crimson rose-tree, and placing it in her bosom, wished for a handsome dress, to wear the next day up to the castle. Immediately there appeared before her a rich robe of silk, trimmed with lace, and knots of ribbon, far more elegant than any thing she had ever seen. Viola was delighted at this proof of the rose-tree's virtues, and after arraying herself in her new dress, and admiring her person to her heart's content, she laid it carefully aside, and retired to dream of future enjoyment. Early the next morning, Viola prepared for her intended visit, taking care to secrete the new dress within the bundle containing her ordinary clothes. She listened with ill disguised impatience to her mother, who cautioned her to behave well, and per- haps the rich lady would give her a situation at the castle. The good woman had no suspicion of the dreams that filled her daughter's brain ; and Viola hastened to depart. You may be sure she did not forget the crimson rose-tree ; but she left the white one behind, thinking that she could have nothing to desire, other than her beloved red rose could grant. When Viola had proceeded some distance, she stepped aside into the thickest of the wood, and after carefully arraying herself in her rich dress, hid her 14 158 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. bundle of clothes among the bushes. As she sur- veyed herself in the stream, that had served her for a mirror, she was very well satisfied with her appear- ance, and flattered herself that she would make quite a sensation. Suddenly the thought struck her, that a lady of her apparent rank never travelled on foot ; she there- fore determined to test the powers of her rose-tree still farther ; and placing a bud in her bosom, wished for a carriage. With the word, there appeared a superb coach standing in the road ! Yiola was enraptured ; but she had neglected to wish for horses, and consequently no horses were there. With a smile at her own stupidity, the young girl plucked another bud, and wished for a fine pair of horses : in an instant they stood before the carriage. Another and another bud was placed in her bosom, as she desired a coachman, footman, and outriders, who all, like well-disciplined servants, came at her call. With the air of a princess, Viola stepped into the coach, the footman handed her the precious rose-tree, the driver touched his horses, and away they rattled toward the castle. The gates were obsequiously opened by the porter when he saw so superb an equipage ; and, in reply to Viola's inquiry for the lady, he informed her that she had unexpectedly left home for a few days to visit a FIRESIDE FAIRIES, 159 isick relative. He added, that there was at present a great deal of company at the castle whom his mistress had desired to stay until her return, and that as Viola was doubtless, an expected guest, he knew his lady would be offended if she refused to remain. This information delighted Viola, who scarcely knew how to introduce herself. She had determined to tell the lady that a relative had unexpectedly died and left her a fortune ; but she was glad of the oppor- tunity to become familiarized in her new position be- fore she met her hostess. With a heart swelling with pride, Viola stepped from the carriage and swept into the hall, amid a crowd of admiring servants, each contending for the honor of conducting the beautiful stranger to her apartments. With an air of haughty condescension she permitted them to lead the way ; but she trembled with anxiety on beholding her invaluable rose-tree carried by an officious menial. During her drive, Viola had occasionally felt a sharp sting in her breast, as though pierced by & thorn ; her mind was too much occupied with bright visions to heed it much; but now, as she passed through the splendid corridors with the step of an empress, and elated with pride, the stinging b. ne intolerable, and looking down, she observ it the stems of the buds were covered wit. 1 thorns. On enter- 160 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. ing the room appropriated to her, she closed the door, and impatiently snatching the flowers from her bosom, threw them out of the window. At the same moment she noted with surprise the disappearance of her ele- gant equipage ; and a servant entering hastily, with an astonished face, said that, on going to show the coachman the way to the stables, the carriage and attendants were not to be found. Yiola replied, with a well-dissembled air, that she had ordered the carriage to return, as she should not need it until her departure. The servant bowed low and withdrew, leaving the young girl who had so rea- dily coined a falsehood, to wonder at the strange dis- appearance of her fairy coach. After some reflection, Yiola attributed the loss of her equipage to her impatient casting away of the rose- buds, and resolved to be more careful in future. Yiola was amazed and delighted with the elegant appearance of every thing about her ; she spent some time in admiring the costly furniture, and then, with a beating heart, placed one of the magical rose-buds in her bosom, and wished for a dress suited to the occasion. Great was the sensation created when Yiola, ele- gantly attired, appeared among the assembled guests. Murmurs of admiration greeted her on every side, and FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 161 3 ach person supposing her to be a lady of rank, was solicitous to show her attention. The young girl felt constrained and uneasy in her novel position ; she was conscious of her ignorance of the polished forms of society, and feared to betray herself by some palpable awkwardness. Her rare beauty, however, heightened by the splendid dress that she wore, carried every thing tri- umphantly before it. Her silence was attributed to modesty, and her mistakes to the manners of a foreign court. The gentlemen overwhelmed her with assi- duities and flattery, and the ladies concealed their envy beneath the deference due to her supposed rank. In a few days Viola became familiar with her new position, and received the adulation that showered upon her as her just due. It seemed evident that she was a person of high station, perhaps even a princess, and Viola found herself entangled in a perfect net of deceit. She was obliged to tell falsehood upon false- hood, in answer to any inquiries casually made her ; but her brain was so completely turned with vanity and pride, that she could scarcely distinguish the true from the false, and actually began to believe herself the great lady she pretended to be. Elated with triumph, she became haughty and in- solent; the most trifling slight was construed into an 14* 162 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. intentional affront ; and though flattered and courted, the beautiful stranger was not beloved. The rose-buds disappeared rapidly from the tree in fullix" : ng her extravagant desires; and though often in the midst of gayety, she felt their thorns pierce her breast, yet she had learned that to cast them aside would be to lose the gifts they brought ; and so nerved herself to bear the sting, thus making herself a mar- tyr to vanity and pride. The rose-buds were all plucked, save two, and Viola determined upon an immediate visit to the fountain. She was endeavoring to form a plausible excuse for leaving the castle, when she was invited to join a party who intended riding out. Viola looked remarkably handsome on horseback, and she fancied that one young nobleman of the party felt something more than admiration for her. She could not resist the opportunity of appearing to advantage before him, and thus her vanity overcoming prudence, she deferred her visit to the fountain and joined the riders. Very beautiful she looked in the elegant riding- dress, procured by the magical rose-tree. Her eyes sparkled with gratified vanity as she listened to the compliments that were poured into her willing ear, her cheek glowed with exercise, and her long ringlets floated on the breeze. So interested was Viola in a conversation with FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 163 ia attendant admirer, that she did not notice their pproach towards her native villag nntil the party -aused to admire the fine landscape , id some chil- dren stopping in the road to gaze on 9 gay caval- %de, one of them ran towards her, excla iing : i "Viola has come hack! Viola has come hack! Constant, come and see ! here is Viola grown a rich idy, and come home to see us again !" Confused and surprised at this unexpected recog- nition, Viola looked up, and perceiving that they pie entering the village where her days of poverty (?ere passed, urged her horse to a brisker pace. But (ier habit had become entangled in some briers, and 'ks she hastily endeavored to extricate it, the branches vere parted, and to her infinite terror and dismay, ponstant stood before her. He paused an instant on beholding the party, — gazed earnestly on Viola, then springing forward ; with a broken cry of joy, exclaimed: "Viola! yes, it is indeed herself! but oh, how wonderful is this !" The blood rushed to her face at this address, and not daring to look at the speaker, she waved him aside with a haughty gesture, and would have passed on. But Constant would not be thus repulsed ; laying his hand on the neck of the steed, he said earnestly : 164 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. " Lady, if you are indeed mortal, and not a beau tiful vision sent to mock my hopes, speak to me bu one word ; say that you remember Constant." Thus adjured, Viola dared not refuse an answer The gaze of her companions was riveted upon this strange scene. Viola felt that every thing depended upon her self-possession, and lifting her eyes with a look of assumed surprise to the haggard countenance of her former lover, replied with forced composure : " I remember no one of that name, young man : neither am I the person you suppose.— Poor fellow,'' she added, turning with a compassionate air to her companions, « I fear he must be crazed." The expression of anguish with which Constant heard these words, would have melted any other than a pride-incrusted heart. He had no farther doubts, her voice had too long echoed in his inmost soul to be ever forgotten. Why she appeared thus richly attired, and surrounded by the gay and great, he knew not; it was enough that he saw her living, and more beau- tiful than ever. ' She should not leave him thus. Placing his hand firmly upon the bridle, he spoke again in a voice choked with intensity of feeling: " Viola— for Viola you are, despite your haughty look and gay attire— hear me one moment for the sake of your mother, whose life is ebbing fast with grief. Your clothes were found upon the bank of a FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 165 ,ream in the wood ; we thought you were drowned, id sought for you in vain. Inspired with one faint 3 pe, I asked for you at the castle ; none had seen du, and we mourned you dead. Oh, Viola, I know ot how you have become the rich and great lady you ow appear. I seek not to learn ; but come with me, lough but for a moment, to cheer your mother's eart with the truth that you live, though it may be, >st to us forever." This appeal only excited intense anger in Viola's reast. She saw herself betrayed, cast from her false nsition, and exposed to the scorn of those she had .eceived. Every feeling of duty and affection was rushed beneath the weight of selfishness and pride hat filled her heart. Had her mother knelt at her eet, she would have spurned her in that moment of mgex and mortification ; and thus, with a counte- lance pale with suppressed emotion, she haughtily exclaimed : "Will no one release me from these insults?" Ihen turning with flashing eyes to Constant— "Unhand me, sir; I know'you not!" she said, and striking the horse severely with her riding-whip, the animal sprang forward, and Constant sank upon the ground. Various and conflicting were the emotions that filled Viola's breast on her homeward ride ; but amid 166 FIRL DE FAIRIES. all the anger, mortification, and dread of discovei that raged by turns, there was no place for a sing emotion of regret urging her to do her duty. St saw that she was suspected of being an impostor, an as this conviction forced itself upon her, she felt tb thorns of the rose-bud she wore, pierce her bosom wit redoubled violence. The adventure gave rise to many conjectures an remarks among the party. Viola attempted to mat light of the affair, and declared it a poor complimeu to be mistaken for an ignorant country girl. Upon their arrival at the castle, her consternatio was increased by learning that the mistress herse' had returned, and was anxious to meet her friend* Yiola wished their first interview to be private, an endeavored to reach her apartment unobserved. Bu the hostess stood upon the castle steps eager to we come her guests, and to pass unnoticed was in. possible. She had heard from the servants of the haught; and beautiful stranger who was sojourning there, ant knew not who it could be that thus honored her. Unfortunately for Viola, the lady's carriage ha< been detained in the village for a siigV ' >air, an< she had heard of the young girl's my< disap pearance. She recognized Viola ' ,uiately, anc FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 167 iissembling her surprise, accosted Ler courteously, sking if she had learned her mother's illness ? At these words Viola saw that farther conceal- aent was impossible, and overcome with conflicting motions fell to the ground insensible. Meanwhile the guests related to their hostess rhat had occurred during the ride, and the lady of he castle, shocked at such heartless falsehood, deter- lined at once to dismiss her guest. The servants were ordered o bring her baggage rom the room she had occu 1, and when Viola re- overed from her swoon, sh . ind all the company ssembled around her, while the servants crowded in be rear, curious to witness the downfall of the inso- mt stranger. " Viola," said the lady of the castle, " I have earned with horror of your base conduct and daring nposition. Had you appeared here in your true osition, I would have been your firm and faithful •iend. Since, however, you have seen proper to im- ose upon my guests by assuming a rank to which ou have no claim, I pronounce you an artful, design- lg impostor, and dismiss you fore^ rom my roof, low you so suddenly obtained care not to sk, it is sufficient that you ha> ied it to the asest uses, deceiving others, - hose who laim your duty and af* deceitfu. 168 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. girl ; these are your possessions, take them and de- part." Humbled, and stung to the soul, Viola turned from the door without a word. A proud reply rose to her lips, but her tongue refused its office. And now the rose-bud in her bosom pierced her with an agon- izing sting. Yiola impatiently snatched it from her breast and cast it from her, and her eye resting on the rose-tree that stood at her feet, she thrust it aside, exclaiming passionately : " Cruel and perfidious fairy, take back your dan- gerous gift, the source of all my suffering and shame." No sooner had she spoken, than the rose-tree disappeared, together with all the rich dresses it had brought ; and Viola, like a second Cinderella, depart- ed in rags and tatters from the castle gates that she had entered in such splendid style but a few days before. Bewildered and overwhelmed with shame and des- pair, Viola sped on, scarce knowing whither she went. Her brain reeled, her strength failed, and she at length sunk insensible to the ground. When Viola again returned to consciousness, she was lying in her own humble chamber. She felt very weak and faint, and it was some minutes before she could recall any thing that had passed. All that FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 169 ad transpired seemed like a troubled dream ; but addenly her eyes rested on the white rose-tree, that fcood green and flourishing on the window seat. Then Viola realized her past folly, and covered er face in an agony of shame. Her mother softly approached, and when she saw r iola awake and conscious, tears of joy rained down er face. Viola remembered her wicked conduct, and mid not bear to look upon her mother ; but the good Oman quietly brought the rose-tree to the bedside ad said kindly : "You have talked much about a rose-tree, my lild ; see, I have taken good care of this ; it is strong ad healthy, though all the buds have withered and lien, except these two." As she spoke, Viola saw le two full, pure white buds, nestling in their mossy )vering, and just peeping forth amid the bright reen leaves. Their fragrant breath floated toward er refreshingly, and then she remembered the pro- dse of the gentle fairy. With an effort she reached forth her hand, and lucking a bud, placed it in her bosom. Then there stole over her a quiet sense of happi- 3SS and peace. The painful regret with which she imembered the past, was tempered by the hope of rgiveness ; and when she heard a gentle tap at the )or, and the anxious voice of Constant inquiring 15 170 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. tenderly for her, she asked her mother to bid him enter. And then, with her head pillowed on hei mother's arm, and her hand clasped in that of hei faithful friend, she told them all the story of the fairies at the fountain — her choice — and the aftei scenes of folly and pride. She did not conceal the disgrace she had suffered, nor the sinful thoughts that filled her heart. And when she besought then forgiveness, who can doubt that it was freely given ? Then she heard in return, how Constant returned after his cruel repulse, and told her mother all that had passed, and the sick parent arose from her bed. determined to find her daughter, and fathom the mystery — how Constant accompanied her, and they found the object of their search, senseless in the wood. Tenderly they carried her home, and foi many days she had raved in high delirium, seeming to live over again the scenes through which she had passed, and very frequently mentioning the stately lady and the red rose-tree. All this, and more, she heard with penitent tears, while the soft white bud rested like a dove of peace in her bosom, and she was happy. Yiola rose from her bed of sickness an altered being. Her pride and selfishness were gone for ever, and in their stead appeared gentleness, and kindly love to all. It was wonderful how the white moss FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 171 md retained its freshness, showing no symptom of iecay, but sending forth each day, a more delicious ragrance. And though the white rose triumphed on he cheek, as well as in the bosom of Viola, to one, it least, she appeared more beautiful, as to all she pas more loveable than before. As soon as her strength returned, Viola carried he now treasured rose-tree to the fairy fountain, and vith a lingering gaze of gratitude, plucked the last emaining bud, and cast it on the water, murmuring ier wish for a friend. As the flower floated on the surface, Viola ex- acted to see the gentle lady appear, but a slight •ustling of the leaves attracted her, and turning, she >eheld Constant. In his hand was the beautiful rose-tree, now again aden with its fragrant burden ; and as he presented I to Viola, Constant spoke gently : " Let me be your truest friend, Viola ; the past ihall be forgotten, and we will yet be happy." Viola looked up with an answering smile ; then )lucking two buds, she gave one to her companion, md placing the other in her bosom, said earnestly : " I only wish to prove worthy of your kindness md esteem." Constant pressed the hand extended to him, and 172 FIRESIDE FAIRIES, putting the bud in his breast, a sense of perfect hap- piness filled the heart of each. But Viola, as she bent over the fountain to hide the emotion that swelled in her heart, saw far away in the clear, bright depths of the silver water, a sweet face smiling back upon her own, and she knew it was her guardian spirit, the gentle fairy of the pure White Rose. " But the story is not finished," cried little Lily, as Aunt Elsie ceased. " I have read all that is therein written," replied the kind old lady, with a smile. "Viola has re- nounced her folly and chosen the better part ; what better ending can you desire ?" " Oh," exclaimed Norah G-raham, " it ought to tell how she married Constant, and lived in the little white cottage, and was happy all the days of her life." " And how the white rose-tree was always in blos- som, and never failed her," added Jessie Lester. " And that the moss buds never bore a thorn," said her sister May. " It might have told that the first use she made of her magical tree, was to contribute to her mother's happiness," remarked Mary Parker. " And that she never again saw the false fairy of FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 173 the red rose, and never was proud any more," chimed in little Lily. "Really, my little people," replied Aunt Elsie, laughing at their earnestness, " you have finished the story for yourselves, much better than I could have done for you. And now, can you tell me what the two fairies represent ?" " The Red Rose fairy was Pride," said Grace, "and the thorns on the buds, the sting that foolish, vain pride always inflicts." " And the White Rose is Humility," added Clara, " and its sweet fragrance is gentleness and modesty." "And 1" am Viola," interrupted Bertha, sobbing on Aunt Elsie's bosom, " for I too have cast aside pride and chosen humility. Oh, Aunt Elsie, I ask your forgiveness for endeavoring to deceive you ; and yours," she added, turning to her companions, " for my foolish vanity in trying to outshine you last night. I never passed a more miserable evening, and its remembrance will always prevent me wearing the red rose of pride, since I have experienced the sting of its thorns." W 174 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. CHAPTER VIII. At the close of a short, bright winter day, the young people assembled once more in the cheerful parlor. Never had that pleasant old room worn a more com- fortable and home-like appearance than now, in the thick-coming shadows of night. The lights had not been brought, and the fitful flame from the great hickory logs flung grotesque sha- dows on the walls, and illuminated the old family por- traits, seeming to warm their faded countenances into a genial smile. The glass doors of the old bookcase gleamed invitingly in the fire-light ; and even the co- lorless groups of flowers on the well-worn screens, grew brighter and fresher in that ruddy glow. The young party were clustered in groups on the sofas, and Lily as usual with her head on Aunt Elsie's knee, while the old lady fondly put back the golden curls from the child's brow, and looked tenderly and thoughtfully upon her cloudless face. FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 175 Within all was light and warmth — without, intense cold. It was one of those bright, still nights when the very moonbeams seem to freeze you beneath their cold unvarying light. Long icicles hung from the leaf- less boughs and the low eaves, while for miles around the country presented one vast unbroken tract of snow. A few clouds crept slowly athwart the sky, as though they too felt the benumbing influence of the freezing weight they bore, and sometimes passed be- fore the moon as if to gather warmth from her rays ; but she only tinged them with her pale cold light, and watched them unmoved as they wearily journey- ed on, while the countless stars far away twinkled and sparkled merrily like so many tiny silver span- gles on the dark blue sky. One stray moonbeam peeped in through the win- dow, and fell like a silver arrow on the floor of the old parlor ; but it did not mingle its pale cold light with the warm, ruddy glow of the crackling flame ; there was no congeniality between them; and while the flickering fire-light went leaping and frolicking over floor and furniture like a playful child, kissing a fresh cheek until it burned with the ardent salute, form- ing tall giants from the shadows of unconscious china jars, and painting droll profiles on the wall, in all the uproarious merriment of good-natured warmth ; the pale moonbeam rested motionless and 176 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. cold where first it fell. It seemed like a fair, proud beauty, chilling in her very loveliness, and was as much out of place in that cozy, heart-warming dear old parlor, with that group of joyous mirth-loving childhood, as any stately beauty would have been. The children were engaged in the game of "What are my thoughts like ;" and much ingenuity was dis- played in their comparisons. All save one united in the amusement — little Frank Field sat alone in the window seat, and silently looked out upon the sky. Presently Norah Graham came softly, and peep- ing over his shoulder, exclaimed : " Frank is watching the moon playing hide and go seek with the stars." "Then his thoughts are like moonshine," cried Ernest. Frank looked up, and smiled as he said : " I was looking at that large cloud ; see how ex- actly it has taken the appearance of a great castle ; there are the turrets complete, with the moon just rising above them. " That is just like you, Frank, always building castles in the air," replied Lucy Parker, who now joined them; "take care lest they come tumbling about your ears some day. FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 177 But Frank still looked thoughtfully out upon the :y, as he said musingly : " I like best to watch the clouds at sunset ; some- nes they seem like great armies meeting, or large asses of rock rolling together ; and often they fall te a purple canopy fringed with gold above a kingly rone." " And then you imagine yourself a king upon the rone, I suppose," added Lucy Parker, with a laugh. " Sometimes," replied Frank, quietly. " The imagination is better than the reality, I ink," added Harry Wilder ; " for my part, I should )t like to be a king." " Nor I," answered Frank, musingly ; " though I ould like to become great and famous when I grow man." " That I hope and trust you will be," now spoke unt Elsie ; " great in all good works, and build a ue and never-dying fame in the hearts of all who love >u. It was a favorite remark of a friend," she con- aued, " that a peasant sitting in his chimney corner id imagining himself a king, was really happier than e sovereign himself. Imagination is a wonderful )wer, and does much towards investing life with jw beauty, or enveloping it in gloom. It is very rong to indulge it to excess, and you, my dear rank, particularly, should keep yours in check, lest 178 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. it run away with your reason, and so unfit you for t duties of life." " Harry often calls me a day-dreamer," repli Frank, " but I do not exactly understand him." Aunt Elsie answered : " I suspect he means that you sometimes drh too deeply of the Diamond Fountain, as the boy di who was lost in the woods." " Now we shall have another story," cried litt Lily, starting up. " Dear Aunt Elsie, shall I brir the lights ?" "No," replied the old lady; "I shall need i other light than the cheerful glow that falls on the: happy faces. My story is a very short one, and can relate it from memory ; it is called €\t Siitmmtu' /mratnk In a large forest, far away from all the habitatioc of men, there lived an old hermit, with one little bo named Rolph. The hermit had not passed all his days in sol tude ; he had spent many years amid the bustle c life, but weariness and disappointment fell upon hiir and he turned away from the ceaseless striving FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 179 of mankind, to seek repose in the silent, peaceful woods. Kolph had been carefully instructed by the hermit in many useful things, and was generally contented and happy. But sometimes he felt very lonely without a companion, and often walked amid the tall old trees, listening to the voice of the wind among the leaves, and thinking it spoke to him in an unknown tongue. The hermit sometimes whiled away the long winter nights, in tales of the wonderful things he had seen in the large cities where he once had lived ; and as Rolph listened eagerly, he conceived a strong de- sire to visit the great world that spread beyond the limits of his forest home, and to enjoy these won- derful sights himself. This idea gained strength every day. Sometimes he thought he would find his way out of the woods before the hermit missed him, but he could not bear to leave his kind protector in this ungrateful manner, and so pined away in fruitless dreams of the bright and gay world, that seemed like a vision of fairy land to his imagination. The hermit saw what was passing in the boy's mind, and endeavored to uproot the longings he had unwittingly sown. He told Rolph how much wickedness and deceit 180 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. dwelt in the world; and said that even the fairest flowers there, bore thorns, and the most delightful pleasures left a sting behind. He painted life and the world in the darkest colors of disappointment and distrust ; but Rolph's ardent fancy decked even this picture with sunshine, and he still desired to see and judge for himself. When the hermit found the boy so eager to de- part, he gave, at last, a reluctant permission ; but he warned him that the way through the forest was long and gloomy, and said that his courage would fail in that lonely and dismal journey. But Rolph would listen to no discouraging fears. He was happy in having obtained permision to de- part, and so set out on his journey with a joyous heart. The hermit accompanied him some distance, until they came to the thickest part of the wood, then giving Rolph a small flask, he bade him fill it at a cer- tain fountain, which he directed him where to find. The water, he said, was pleasant to the taste, and possessed many valuable qualities. If drank sparingly it would lend a brightness to his path, and invest the objects about him with new and peculiar beauty. But if indulged in to excess, would bewilder and mislead him. He warned him, also, not to drink of the waters FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 181 unless they appeared clear and sparkling ; sometimes they were discolored, and then their effect would be to envelope his pathway in still deeper gloom. After giving Rolph many charges, and much good advice, he left him, and the boy journeyed on alone. He had not proceeded far before he heard the pleasant sound of falling water, and hastening for- ward, beheld a beautiful fountain, whose bright wa- ters fell in diamond showers upon the grass. Flowers of rich and varied hues grew upon its brink, and wherever a drop of the sparkling spray fell, there sprang up an exquisite blossom, while gorgeous and ever varying rainbows spanned the crystal water, that constantly showered its wealth of diamond mois- ture upon the luxuriant turf. This was the Diamond Fountain of which the her- mit had told him, and Rolph hastened to fill his flask, and then took a long draught of the delicious water. No sooner had he done so, than every thing about him appeared invested with new beauty. He saw flowers where none had been before, and heard the sweet singing of birds, whose melody had been hitherto unheeded, while the sun himself seemed to shine with increased glory. Rolph's heart beat lightly— his path seemed clear before him, and flowers sprang up at every step. He even fancied he could see the tall spires of a great 16 182 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. city far in the distance, and was sure that he should encounter no obstacles in his way. Filled with an exhilarating sense of happiness, he wandered on, drinking frequently of the inspiring water, until he emptied his flask. Inwardly condemning the hermit for giving him so small a flask, he retraced his steps to the Diamond ♦ Fountain, eager to refill his empty flagon. He reached the Diamond water, and throwing himself upon the turf at its side, drank deeply of the inspiring draught, careless and forgetful of the her- mit's warning admonition. Soon a languor and inertness stole over him ; he felt unable, as unwilling, to move from the spot, but surrendered himself entirely to the delight of quaff- ing the intoxicating water, and 'enjoying the bright visions that it appeared to create. Thus time wore on — day faded into twilight — the rainbows no more spanned the sparkling waters ; night folded her mantle of shadows over all the earth, and still Rolph lay in dreamy unconsciousness by the side of the Diamond Fountain. Morning dawned, gloomy and cheerless, and Rolph rousing himself from his listlessness, gazed about him bewildered and confused. How altered was the scene ! The fountain indeed remained, but its waters no longer sparkled and flashed like gems, calling FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 183 fresh beauty into being at every drop that fell. They looked dark and discolored in the leaden hue of the clouded, threatening sky, and the flowers upon its brink were withered and scentless. Rolph, though startled at the change, thought not in his bewilder- ment of the hermit's warning ; he eagerly quaffed the no longer sparkling fountain, thinking that its influ- ence would beautify the scene about him. As his lips touched the water, he started up in affright; it was inexpressibly bitter and disagree- able. And now as Rolph gazed tremblingly around, the bright visions that had delighted him, were vanished. He could no longer distinguish the pathway before him ; — about and beyond spread impenetrable dark- ness and gloom. "With a cry of anguish, the unhappy Rolph sprang forward and was lost in the darkness. But he reached not the great city, neither did the hermit ever see him more. " I should think the fountain might have been filled with wine, to judge by its effects," remarked Greorge, as Aunt Elsie ceased. " Your comparison is not inapt," replied the old lady, " for imagination, like wine, gladdens the heart of man; but if indulged in to excess, often leads tc 184 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. inevitable ruin. An indulgence in the vague dreams of imagination, certainly unfits us for all life's higher duties, and makes the brightest reality seem dull and insipid. While a morbid, desponding imagination, such as the Diamond Fountain represents beneath a clouded sky, adds new gloom to every trial, and deepens the shadows that ever fall upon the path of life." "I think I understand you," answered Frank, thoughtfully; "you mean that it is sinful to waste time in vague dreamings that should be devoted to active improvement, and I shall endeavor to profit by Rolph's example." " I wonder," said little Lily, musingly, " why it is, that all Aunt Elsie's stories seem written on purpose for us. I wish we could hear all the stories in that old portfolio ; I am sure there is one for each." " Wait until the midsummer holidays, Lily, and then perhaps your wish may be granted," replied Aunt Elsie, smiling. " There are many more stories in the old portfolio, that I hope to read you when we all assemble together once more." " Oh, that will be delightful," cried Clara-; " we will rest upon that promise until we all meet again." " What a short vacation this has been," said No- rah, with a heavy sigh. " Quite as long as usual," replied Charles Carol ; FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 185 "but the time has appeared short, because it has passed so pleasantly. I have often noticed how much longer school hours seem than any others." " I wish I had a copy of Aunt Elsie's stories, which I shrewdly suspect were written on purpose for us, as Lily says," remarked Greorge. "I think," answered Bertha, "it is because we each wear a Wonderful Watch, that we so readily ap- ply Aunt Elsie's stories to ourselves." " You have discovered the true secret, Bertha," said Aunt Elsie. " I doubt not that there are many little people, to whom these stories would apply with equal force ; and I shall be content if the old port- folio has sent forth one good spirit, whose influence may hereafter warn, or guide you on the path to hap- piness." Dinah now appeared at the door with lights, and after the shutters were closed in, and the pale cold moonbeam shut out, the children clustered in groups about the table, and the old parlor wore again its look of cheerful coziness. After tea, a few young friends from the neigh- borhood came in, and a hearty game of " blind man's buff," concluded the evening's amusement. 16' 186 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. CHAPTER IX. The holidays were now fast drawing to a close, and only two days remained of the long and delightful vacation. One of these was devoted to the momentous business of packing up wardrobes, and making all the necessary preparations for departure, after a long visit. There was a great deal of bustle among the young guests, and much searching after mislaid books and truant drawing pencils, with many inqui- ries for missing tops, and mysterious balls, that seemed to vanish just when most sought after. Nu- merous stray ribbons and forgotten toys, now re- turned to their respective owners, and wrapping paper was in great demand. It was a very busy and important day for the little people, and they all felt tired and weary when, their arrangements being all completed, they once more assembled in the old parlor. FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 187 There was a shade of sadness on each young face, as they thought of the coming separation, and dear Aunt Elsie, too, looked graver than usual, as her gaze rested fondly on the bright circle which sur- rounded her, and. she thought how soon its links would be severed, perhaps never to unite again. To-morrow was to be the last day, and even to young, gay hearts, that single word " the last," has much of sorrow. The kind Aunt Elsie was unwil- ling that the long holiday should end in gloom, and so had made preparations for a juvenile festival, that was to deck even the parting hour with joyousness, as the glowing sunset sheds a brightness on the day's farewell. The party was to take place on the following evening ; and all the young people for miles around had been invited to share the festivities. The children were more silent than usual, and Aunt Elsie, rousing herself from a reverie, said : " You are very quiet to-night, my little people ; are you wearied with your day's employment ?" " I think I may answer that we all feel a little tired," replied Jessie Lester, " and a little sad be- side." " Yes, indeed," added Lily, " very sad, and very sorry to leave you, dear Aunt Elsie." " But it will not do to feel sad, Lily, on the last 188 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. quiet evening that we shall pass together for very many months," answered Aunt Elsie, kindly smiling, " so let us send sadness to the winds while we in- dulge in a social chat. And first, are all your prepa- rations completed, and is there nothing mislaid or forgotten ?" " Every thing is done, I believe," replied Clara, who, with Bertha and Grace, had superintended the arrangements of the younger guests. "And only think, Aunt Elsie, none of us have lost a single thing," exclaimed Norah Graham, eager- ly ; " don't we deserve credit for being so careful ?" " I think you do, my dear," said the old lady, cheerfully ; " and to judge by the shouts of laughter, that penetrated even to the kitchen, I am pretty certain that none of you lost your magical key, even for a moment." "A magical key! what does that mean?" cried several voices. " It must mean a trunk key," cried Ernest, " for I am very sure I should not have laughed had I lost mine. "No," said Aunt Elsie, laughing, as she shook her head. " that is not it at all, Ernest ; you must guess again." " I cannot guess what the magical key is, but I FIRESIDE FAIRIES 189 think I know where to find it," whispered little Lily over the hack of Aunt Elsie's chair. " May I get the old portfolio, and let you see if it is there, Aunt Elsie ?" " Oh. yes," cried Ernest, who had overheard Lily's request ; " please, Aunt Elsie, read us one more story as a farewell." His request was warmly seconded by the little group, and Aunt Elsie premising that the story was but a short one, and bidding her auditors listen atten- tively, as she should expect the explanation from them, drew a small stand near her, and read the story of €\t 3$itgtntl tu\ Little Eva was a merry, happy-hearted child, who did nothing but dance and sing from morning until night. She was quite young, and unable to give much assistance to her mother, who was but a poor woman, and lived in a rude little cottage just off from the road. Eva was very willing to do all that she could, to be sure, but that was very little ; and as she saw her mother toiling all day, she often wondered when she should get old enough to assist her. 190 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. It chanced one morning, as she started very early to get a little milk for breakfast, that she espied something bright, shining in the grass. She hastily picked it up, and saw that it was a small golden key, curiously wrought. Delighted with her prize, she ran home to her mother. The good woman esteemed the finding of the key as a lucky omen, and carefully hung it about Eva's neck, charging her never to part with it. From that day, Eva never removed the key from its resting place in her bosom. She was always cheerful and contented, there was but one thing that preyed upon her mind. She frequently heard her mother wish for happiness, and in her childish sim- plicity revolved a thousand ways by which to attain this coveted good. One very cold day, as she sped over the frozen ground with her threadbare cloak, and well-worn shoes ; that scarce served to keep her little feet from the snow, she saw a very old woman sitting wearily by the wayside, with her head bowed down on her clasped hands. She was poorly clad, and seemed very feeble. Eva felt sorry for the poor old woman, and ap- proaching her, said softly : " What is the matter, dame ? can I help you?" FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 191 The poor old woman looked up, when the child " I am very weary," she answered, feebly, " and have a long way to go ; but I cannot walk alone, I am not able." " I will go with you," said Eva, quickly ; " you do not look very heavy, and I think I can support you if you lean on me. Though. I am little, I am pretty strong." 1 " You are a good child," replied the old woman, as with Eva's assistance she rose from her seat on the bank ;" but I walk so slowly, you will perish with the cold." " Oh, never mind me," said the little girl, cheer- fully ; " I am used to the cold, and can spare you my cloak too, good dame, for you need a warmer cover- ing." So saying, she threw her own scanty mantle upon the aged stranger's shoulders, and carefully assisted her feeble steps as she tottered over the frozen ground. As they went on, Eva told the simple story of her mother's poverty, and her own eagerness to assist her. The old woman listened attentively, and after they had walked some distance, she complained of fatigue, and sat down upon a bank to rest. As Eva placed herself at her feet, the aged dame 192 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. drew from beneath her faded cloak a small casket, which she handed to Eva, saying : " You deserve a reward for your kindness, and this is all I have to give ; there are some things in this casket that may be useful to you, if you are ever fortunate enough to find a key to fit it." Eva was unwilling to take the box, but the old woman pressed it upon her ; and when the little girl found that she was resolute in desiring her to accept it, she remembered her golden key, and hastened to try if it would fit the lock. No sooner had she turned the key, than the lid of the casket flew open, and she beheld within, a small mirror, a slender staff, a leathern belt curiously in- wrought, and a silver lamp of dazzling brightness. Eva did not know the use of these things, but was delighted with their novelty. She looked up to thank the old woman, and beheld in her stead, a beautiful lady. She uttered an exclamation of surprise, but the beautiful lady smiled kindly, and said : " You behold me now in my true form, Eva, and as you have proved yourself worthy, I desire to be- nefit you. Wish what you will, it shall be granted." Eva would probably have felt embarrassed at this address, had not the recollection of her mother's wish FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 193 for happiness been ever present to her mind. She therefore answered : " I wish to find happiness." " Happiness," replied the strange lady, with a bright smile, " dwells in the castle of peace ; you are on the road to her dwelling now, but will have many difficulties to surmount ere you reach it. It is a long and dangerous journey. Do you feel able to under- take it ?" " I am able and willing to do any thing to pro- cure the happiness for which my mother constantly sighs," answered Eva. " Well, then, listen to me," said the lady. " The key which you wear will unlock the enchanted castle gate where happiness dwells, as readily as it did this casket ; and I may tell you, that without that key these gifts would have been of little value to you ; now they are inestimable." So saying, she took the leathern belt, and hang- ing the mirror upon it, clasped it about Eva's waist, and said : " While you wear this girdle, you will be endowed with strength to fulfil your undertaking ; and when- ever you are in doubt which way to go, look in this mirror, it will point out your path." She then gave Eva the lamp, and placing the staff in her hand, continued : 17 194 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. " This staff will support your steps when weary, and the lamp will light your path. Gro onward, and do not fear the enemies who will present themselves ; armed as you are, you can overcome them all. When you reach the castle its gates will open at the touch of your key, and happiness then reward you for all you have undergone." Little Eva felt awed at the importance and no- velty of her position ; she bent her eyes upon the ground, and when she raised them, the lady had dis- appeared. Eva looked upon her precious gifts, and went re- solutely forward. She felt strong, and able to perform- the task. The way was very desolate, the snow laid deep upon the path, and the leafless branches sighed in the wind. Still Eva toiled patiently on, through the drifted snow-banks, and over the frozen brooks. She had but one thought, to reach the castle of happiness and obtain her gifts for her mother. The little girl came at length to a point from which two roads diverged. One appeared decked in the beauty and foliage of summer, the other was bleak and dreary. At the entrance of the beautiful path stood a graceful youth who invited Eva to take that road, saying it was the shortest way to the cas- tle of happiness. Eva hesitated an instant, then re- FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 195 cnembering the beautiful lady's injunction, looked into the mirror, and beheld the dreary road reflected there ; at the same time she saw that the pleasant path was filled with snares and pitfalls, while the youth's features appeared hideous and distorted. Eva turned unhesitatingly into the dreary path, and swiftly sped along. As she went, the way seemed dark before her, and then her silver lamp emitted a brilliant light that cheered her weary steps. Many were the obstacles she had to encounter. She was stopped on her way by a large gate, at which stood a dark man, who demanded toll ; but Eva applied her magical key to the lock, and it flew open before her. ' Often she was beset by forms, who whispered her of the terrible difficulties she would meet upon her path, but she leaned firmly upon her staff, and as she saw the silver beam from the lamp she bore, shining far before her, she went on cheered and comforted. Many were the snares she escaped by consulting her faithful mirror, and the difficulties she overcame by leaning upon her staff, while the belt she wore endued her with fresh vigor, and the magical key opened every gate before her. At length she was rewarded by seeing the turrets 196 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. of the castle rising before her. and with a cry of joy she sprang forward and stood upon the threshold. She found herself surrounded by a noisy group, each one offering to procure her ingress to the castle ; but Eva remembered that her precious gifts had brought her safely through many trials, and she needed no other assistance now. With an eager, trembling hand, she applied her golden key — the gates flew open, and in a moment she found herself within the court of the castle, and clasped in the arms of the beautiful stranger. Need it be told that one so firm and faithful in the search after happiness, was equally just and gen- erous in dispensing her gifts when obtained, and that ever after, Eva dwelt with her mother in the valley of peace, and was known as the favorite child of Happi- Aunt Elsie closed the manuscript, and looked inquiringly around. " And now I want your explanation of my little story," she said. " I think the mirror which Eva possessed must have been Truth," said May Lester, as Aunt Elsie's glance rested upon her. FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 197 "And the form that tempted her into another path was, perhaps, Falsehood," added her sister Jessie. "Eva's staff was Faith, of course," continued Grace, " as it supported her through all her trials." " I thought the lamp represented Faith," said Mary Parker, « but the staff is more appropriate ; the lamp then must he Hope, that shed a light over her path, and so enabled her to persevere, despite the Fears that endeavored to discourage her. Is it not so, Aunt Elsie?" • Aunt Elsie assented. "You have denned it very well thus far," she said, " but all is not explained yet." "No," cried Willie Graham, "we have not yet discovered what the magical key was." " Let me see," said Harry Wilder, in his droll way; " we have seen Eva fairly started on the road to Hap- piness with the mirror of Truth, the staff of Faith, and lamp of Hope, to assist her ; what other gifts did the fairy give her ? Oh, I remember, an embroidered belt ; what could that have been ?" " Endurance, perhaps," suggested George. " Or rather Perseverance, which seems a more ac- tive quality," added Frank. " Very likely," cried Lucy Parker, " for you know patience and perseverance conquer all obstacles. I 17 # 198 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. have written that copy so often, that I begin to be- lieve it is true." " I have been thinking who the dark man at the gate could be, but I cannot make it out," said Charles Carrol. " Perhaps it was 111 Humor," suggested Clara. " And the crowd at the palace gates were Strifes, Envyings, and Pride," added Bertha, with an appeal- ing look towards Aunt Elsie. The old lady smiled, and said : " All very right thus far ; a«d now for the magi- cal key, that so materially influenced Eva's fortune." " The magical key !" cried Norah ; " what could it have been V " I have it !" exclaimed Ernest, exultingly ; " I have found it; the magical key was Good Tem- per." " You have found it, indeed," said Aunt Elsie, approvingly ; " and as you possess it beside, Ernest, I hope you will remember and prize its valuable qua- lities." " Nobody has told who the fairy means," chimed in little Lily ; " but I know, — it is Aunt Elsie her- self." " Not exactly, my dear," replied Aunt Elsie, kind- ly; "because I have not the power to endow you FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 199 with the precious gifts that Eva possessed. I can only pray that the Giver of all good may bestow them upon you ; and shall be happy if through me you have learned one truth, which may assist you to wall securely in the path that alone leads to peace in this present life, and happiness hereafter. 200 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. CHAPTER X. The morning of the last holiday dawned bright and clear, and the little folks were up betimes, and soon busily engaged in preparations for the evening. Each had her peculiar duty assigned her ; the elder girls assisted in preparing the refreshments and ar- ranging the room, while the younger ones felt very important, cutting motto papers and polishing lady apples, until their ripe red cheeks rivalled their own. The boys, under the superintendence of Harry Wilder, were engaged in decorating a small room off the parlor, with Christmas greens. This little apartment was Aunt Elsie's private sitting room, but on this occasion was to be thrown open for the accommodation of the juvenile guests. The preparations were completed at an early hour, and the young people retired to rest a little while, be- fore dressing for the evening. FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 201 After all had gone up stairs except Bertha and Harry Wilder, who remained with Aunt Elsie, Harry assisted by the willing Dinah, carried an immense green branch into the little room which the boys had decorated, and propped it firmly upon a low platform that had been erected in the centre of the apartment. Aunt Elsie and Bertha remained within some time, and then Aunt Elsie left the room for a moment, and Bertha swiftly running up stairs, returned with a parcel carried very carefully, which she placed in the apartment, and then locking the door, hastened up stairs to join her companions. Aunt Elsie had requested the young people to as- semble in the parlor, an hour before the expected arrival of their guests, and accordingly at the stated time the happy group entered the room, and were re- ceived by Aunt Elsie herself. What a pleasant picture it was ; the comfortable parlor with its quaint old-fashioned furniture now pol- ished into more than ordinary lustre, so brilliantly illuminated by groups of tall wax candles, disposed tastefully about the room in candlesticks entwined with evergreens, and the light falling brightly on the fair young faces and graceful forms that clustered about Aunt Elsie. The dear old lady was a picture by herself, in her 202 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. stately dress of rich black satin ; the plain lace cap, with the border clinging closely about her benevolent and still handsome face ; and the fine ; clear muslin kerchief, whose fleecy folds peeped above the neck of her dress, and were confined at the throat by a brooch of jet. After the little folks had all passed in review be- fore Aunt Elsie, and received many kind words of commendation, she made a sign to Harry Wilder, who threw open the door leading to the small room, and with a cry of surprised delight, the children sprang forward. A brilliant and unexpected sight burst upon them. The ingenuity of the boys had converted the little room into a perfect bower of Christmas greens, and tapers had been arranged among the branches so as to cast a bright radiance throughout the apartment. In the centre of the room, upon a raised platform, stood a tall Christmas tree, the branches of which were laden with gifts for each member of the party. The presents were very tastefully arranged by Bertha Carrol, to whom Aunt Elsie had confided the secret ; and very beautiful the tree appeared, bowed down beneath the weight of aiFectionate tributes that it bore. There was a label on each bough, with the name FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 203 of the one for whom the gifts were intended. The lower branches held those of the smaller children, that they might have the pleasure of plucking this curious fruit themselves, and it was pleasant to mark the joy that lighted each young face as they succes- sively carried away some coveted or beautiful article. The gifts were all distributed at last amid excla- mations of delight, when Bertha Carrol, who presided as mistress of the ceremonies, said : " Here is one bough yet unclaimed, the very top- most of all ; it must be for you, Aunt Elsie, since we are all supplied Will you please look if it bears your name ?" Aunt Elsie good-naturedly stepped upon the plat- form and read the label. There, sure enough, was written in delicate characters, " For our dear Aunt Elsie." The old lady smilingly relieved the bough of its burden, and received in her hands an elegantly woven basket filled with testimonials of affection from each of her young guests. There was a gold pencil case, a pair of embroid- ered slippers, knit woollen wristlets, lamp mats, an embroidered spectacle case, containing a pair of gold spectacleSj with her name engraved thereon, and many other articles equally tasteful and appropriate. 204 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. And while Aunt Elsie gratified the little people by praising each article in turn, they insisted upon her guessing who had made the several gifts, and were delighted at her inability to distinguish the donors. The hour passed rapidly away, and now the in- vited guests arrived. The rooms were soon filled with happy groups, and the sports of the evening commenced in earnest. There was much merriment, and many hearty bursts of laughter as the children entered with eager- ness into the old-fashioned games, so productive of harmless mirth. There was dancing too, and Aunt Elsie herself led off the cheerful country dance, to the no small delight of the young party. But amid all the unrestrained joyousness of the evening, nothing like rudeness occurred to mar its harmony. Aunt Elsie moved about with cheerful, quiet kindness, seeing that all were equally happy, and Dinah's smiling face was constantly seen among the guests, as she tendered the refreshments, and evidently enjoyed the glad scene about her. The festivities were prolonged until a late hour, when the invited guests dispersed to their own homes ; and after the last good-night kiss had been pressed up- on the brows of her own little people, Aunt Elsie looked FIRESIDE FAIRIES. 205 about the now deserted room with a sigh of regret, as she thought how many months must elapse ere again it would be enlivened by her beloved group of Fireside Fairies. THE END. 18