Chapter II: Part 2

The child became as dear to the lord and lady as their very heart's blood; and they forgot her foreign birth, and almost believed, as all the world did, that she was their own little daughter. But the child did not forget. She longed for the true home she had left; but whither should she go to seek it?

"Dear papa," said she, one day, "I beg you will not say again there are no sylphids; for I remember so well how I spread my wings and flew. It was glorious to see the clouds float under my feet!"

"Very well," said the lord; "if you like, I will say there are sylphids in the air, and trolls inside the earth; and, once on a time, I was myself a great white butterfly: do you remember chasing me over a bed of roses?"

"O papa, now you laugh! I love the twinkle in your eye; and I am so glad it is you, and no one else, who is my papa; but just the same, and forevermore, I shall keep saying, _I was a sylphid_!"

Sometimes, when she set her white teeth into some delicious fruit, she said with dreamy eyes,--

"These grapes of Samarcand came across the seas; but they are not so sweet as the fruit in my own garden, mamma."

"And where is your garden, my child?"

"Oh, in the Summer-land. I always forget that you have never seen it. When I go there again, mamma, I will certainly take you too; for I love you with all my heart. I can never go without you."

When she heard the evening-bells from the minster, she said, "Oh, they are like the joy-bells at home, only not so sweet. Nothing, here, is so sweet. Even my dear mamma is not so lovely as the lady who comes when I am asleep."

Little One--they called her Little One for the want of a name--loved to prattle about the wonders of that mysterious fairy-land, which no one but herself had ever seen. Her mother would not check her, but let her tell her pretty visions of remembered rainbows, and palaces, and precious gems. She said,--

"The child has such a vivid fancy! It is not all of us who can see pictures when our eyes are shut."

But the lord was not so well pleased; and once, when his daughter looked at a frozen stream and murmured, "_We_ have the _happiest_ rivers at home; they sing all day long, all the year, without freezing! Can I find that Summer-land again! Oh, I would creep all over the world to seek it," he replied,--

"Little One, it is some cloud-city you are thinking of, some dream-land, or isle of Long Ago, which you will never see again. I beg you to forget these wild fancies."

But still the child dreamed on. Once she heard the glad song of the Hyperboreans:--

"I come from a land in the sun-bright deep,
Where golden gardens glow;
Where the winds of the North, becalmed in sleep,
Their conch-shells never blow."

She clapped her hands, murmuring to herself,--

"_There_ is my home! I think I remember now it _was_ 'a land in the sun-bright deep!'"

So, when she journeyed with her parents to distant countries, she always hoped that some ship would bear her away to the Happy Isles; and when they once touched a bright shore, and some one cried, "The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!" she thought she was home at last, and hardly dared look at the remembered shore. But, alas, she had not yet reached the Summer-land: this was not her home.

Then she heard her father say that the jewels she wore had been brought up from the deep places under the earth.

"I wonder I had not thought of that," she said to herself. "Since there are such beautiful gems in my lost home, it must lie under the earth. No doubt if I could only find the right cave, and walk in it far enough, I should come to the Summer-land."

So she set out, one day, in wild haste, but only lost herself in a deep cavern; and, when she found daylight again, she was all alone upon the face of the earth. Her father and mother were nowhere to be seen. She shouted their names, and ran to and fro seeking them till her strength was all spent. It was growing dark; and Little One could only creep under a shelter, and weep herself asleep.

Next morning it was no better, but far worse. Her wretched parents had gone home, believing her drowned in the sea. Poor Little One was now all alone in the world, and her heart ached with the cold. Kind friends gave her food and shelter, and her clothing was warm as warm could be; still her heart ached with the cold. People praised her beauty so much that she dared not look up to let them see how lovely she was; but she had lost both her father and mother, and her heart ached and ached. She thought winter was coming on; and the world was growing so chilly, that now she must certainly set out for the Summer-land. Then she said,--

"If I am a sylphid, perhaps my home is over the hills, and far away. Yes: I think it must be in the country where the music goes."

For she thought, when she heard music, that it seemed to hover and float over the earth, and lose itself in the sky; so she began to set her face toward the country where the music goes. But, though she gazed till her eyes ached, she never saw her long-lost home, nor so much as a glimpse of one of its spires.

One night, after gazing and weeping till she could scarcely see, and had no tears left, the bright being who visited her dreams came and whispered,--

"If there be a land so fair
O'er the mountain shining,
You will never enter there
By looking up and pining."

"Dear me! then what shall I do?" said Little One, clasping her hands. "I am tired of the dropping rain, and the bleak winds; I have lost my father and mother; I long to go home to the Summer-land."

"There are hills to climb, and streams to cross," said the fairy.

"But I have stout shoes," laughed Little One.

"There are thorns and briers all along the road."

"But I can bear to be pricked."

"Then I will guide you," said the fairy.

"How can that be?" cried the child. "You come to me in dreams; but by daylight I cannot see so much as the tips of your wings."

"Listen, and you will hear my voice," replied the fairy. "Set out toward the East, at dawn, to-morrow, and I will be with you."

When Little One awoke, the sun was rising, and she said,--

"Oh that golden gate! The sun has left it open: do you see it, beautiful lady?"

"I see it," whispered the fairy: "I am close beside you."

"Then," said Little One, fastening her dress, and putting on all the jewels she could possibly carry, "I think I will set out at once; for, if I make all speed, I may reach the Summer-land before that golden gate is closed."

She pressed on, as the fairy directed, up a steep hill, her eyes fixed on the glowing eastern sky. But, as the sun strode up higher, the morning clouds melted away.

"Where is my golden gate?" cried the child.

"Weeping so soon?" whispered the fairy.

"Do not scold me, dear Whisper," moaned the child; "you know I have lost my kind father and mother; and the thorns prick me; and then this is such a lonely road; there is nobody to be seen."

The truth was, there were children gathering strawberries on the hill, and old women digging herbs; but Little One did not see them, for she was all the while watching the sky. But she was soon obliged to pause, and take breath.

"Look about you," said the Whisper, "you may see some one as unhappy as yourself."

The child looked, and saw a little girl driving a goat; while large tears trickled down her cheeks, and moistened her tattered dress. For a moment, Little One's heart ceased aching with its own troubles.

"What is your name, little girl?" said she: "and why do you weep?"

"My name is Poor Dorel," replied the child; "my father and mother are long since dead; and I have nothing to eat but goat's milk and strawberries:" and, as she spoke, the large tears started afresh.

"Poor Dorel! you are the first one I ever saw who had as much trouble as I. I, too, have lost a father and mother."

"Were they a king and queen?" asked Dorel, wiping her eyes, and gazing at Little One's beautiful dress and glittering ornaments.

"They loved me dearly," replied Little One sadly; "yet I never heard that they were king and queen. Come with me, darling Dorel! I never before saw any one who was hungry. Come with me! I live in a country where there is food enough for everybody."

"Where is that?" said Dorel, eagerly.

"I do not quite know, little girl; but it is not in the bosom of the earth, and it is not in the sun-bright deep: so I suppose it is over the hills, and far away."

"Now I know who you are," said Dorel. "You are the _lost sylphid_; and people say you have travelled all over the world. But, if you do not know the way home, pray how can you tell which road to take?"

"Oh! I have a guide,--a beautiful fairy, called Whisper: she shows me every step of the way. I wish you would go too, little Dorel!"

"I think I will not, little Sylphid; for, if you have only a Whisper for a guide, I do not believe you will ever get there; but, oh, you are very, very beautiful!"

"If you will not go," said Little One, "let me, at least, give you a few of my jewels: you can sell them for bread."

So saying, she took from her girdle some turquoise ornaments, and placed them in Dorel's hand with a kiss which had her whole heart in it.

"Now I love you," said Dorel; "but more for the kiss than any thing else; and I am going before you to cut down the thorns that shoot out by the wayside. I am a little mountain-girl, and know how to use the pruning-knife."

Little One danced for joy. She found she could now walk with wonderful ease; for not only were there no more sharp thorns to prick her, but her heart was also full of a new love, which made the whole world look beautiful.

"You see the way is growing easier," said the Whisper.

"Pour out thy love like the rush of a river,
Wasting its waters forever and ever."

"So I will," said Little One. "Is there any one else to love?"

By and by she met an old woman, bent nearly double, and picking up dry sticks with trembling hands.

"Poor woman!" said Little One: "I am going to love you."

"Dear me!" said the old crone, dropping her sticks, and looking up with surprise in every wrinkle: "you don't mean _me_? Why, my heart is all dried up."

"Then you need to be loved all the more," cried Little One heartily.

The poor woman laughed; but, at the same time, brushed a tear from her eye with the corner of her apron.

"I thought," said Little One, "I was the only unhappy one in the world: it seemed a pity my heart should ache so much; but, oh, I would rather have it ache than be dried up!"

"I suppose you never were beaten," said the old woman; "you were never pelted with whizzing stones?"

"Indeed I never, never was!" replied Little One, greatly shocked by the question.

"By your costly dress, I know you never were so poor as to be always longing for food. Let me tell you, my good child, when one is beaten and scolded, and feels cold all winter, and hungry all summer, it is no wonder one's heart dries up!"

Little One threw her arms about the old woman's neck. "Let me help you pick sticks!" said she; "you are too old for hard work; your hands tremble too much."

Swiftly gathering up a load of fagots, she put them together in a bundle.

"Now, how many jewels shall I give her?" thought the child. "She must never want for food again."

"How many?" echoed the Whisper.

"Give as the morning that flows out of heaven:
Give as the free air and sunshine are given."

"Then she shall have half," said Little One in great glee. "Here, poor woman, take these sapphires and rubies and diamonds, and never be hungry again!"

"Heavenly child!" said the stranger, laying her wasted hand on the sylphid's bright head, and blessing her, "it is little except thanks that an old creature like me can give; yet may be you will not scorn this pair of little shoes: they are strong, and, when you have to step on the sharp mountain-rocks, they will serve you well."

Little One's delicate slippers were already much worn, and she gladly exchanged them for the goat-skin shoes; but, strange to relate, no sooner had she done so than she found herself flitting over rocks and rough places with perfect ease, and at such speed, that, when she looked back, in a moment, she had already left the old woman far behind, and out of sight. They were magical shoes; but, no matter how fast they skimmed over the ground, Dorel, out of pure love, continued to go before, talking and laughing and smoothing the way.

One by one Little One sold her jewels to buy bread, which she shared with all the needy she chanced to meet. After many days there remained but one gem; and she wept because she had no more to give. But, through her tears, she now, for the first time, fancied she could see the spires and turrets of her beautiful home, though, as yet, very far off.

"How fast I have come!" said she, laughing with delight. "But for these magical shoes, and Dorel's pruning-knife, I should have been even now struggling at the foot of the hill."

Then she looked down at her torn dress.

"What a sad plight I am in! no one will know me when I get home!"

"Never fear!" said the fairy: "you are sure to be welcome."

Little One now held up her last jewel in the sunlight, while a starving boy looked at it with eager eyes.

"Take it!" said she, weeping with the tenderest pity. "I only wish it were a diamond instead of a ruby,--a diamond as large as my heart!"

The boy blessed her with a tremulous voice. Little One pressed on, singing softly to herself, till she came to a frightful chasm, full of water.

"How shall I ever cross it!" she cried in alarm.

"May I help you, fair Sylphid?" said the grateful boy to whom she had given her last jewel. "I can make a bridge in the twinkling of an eye."

So saying, he threw across the roaring torrent a film which looked as frail as any spider's web.

"It will bear you," said the Whisper: "do not be afraid!"

So Little One ventured upon the gossamer bridge, which was to the eye as delicate as mist; but to the feet as strong as adamant. She hushed her fears, and walked over it with a stout heart.

Now, she was on the borders of the Summer-land. Here were the turrets and spires, the soft white clouds, the green fields, and sunny streams. Instantly her long-lost wings appeared again; and she spread them like a happy bird, and flew home. Oh, it was worth years of longing and pain! She was held in tender embraces, and kissed lovingly by well-remembered friends. To her great surprise and delight, her father and mother were both there--they had arrived at the Summer-land while seeking their Little One.

"Now I know," said her father, "that my daughter was not dreaming when she longed for her remembered home."

Little One looked at her soiled dress; but the stains had disappeared; and, most wonderful! all the jewels she had worn on her neck and arms, and in her girdle, were there yet, burning with increased brilliancy. Little One gazed again, and counted to see if any were missing. Yes: two she had sold for bread were not there. It was the jewels she had _given away_ which had come back in some mysterious manner and were more resplendent than before.

"Ah!" said she, with a beaming smile, "now I know what it means when they say, 'All you give, you will carry with you.' It was delightful to scatter my gems by the wayside; but I did not think they would all be given back to me when I reached home!"

Then, intwining arms with a bright sylphid, she flew with her over the gardens in a trance of delight.

"Here," said Little One, "is my own dear garden. I remember the border and the paths right well; but it never bore such golden fruit, it never glowed with such beautiful flowers."

"Your fairy, the one you call Whisper, has taken care of it for your sake," said the sister sylphid. "Do you know that those flowers, and those trees with fruit like 'bonny beaten gold,' have been watered by your tears, Little One? It is in this way they have attained their matchless beauty and grace."

"_My tears_, little sister?"

"Yes, your tears. Every one you shed upon earth, your fairy most carefully preserved; and see what wonders have been wrought!"

"If I had known that," said Little One clapping her hands, "I would have been _glad_ of all my troubles! I would have smiled through my tears!"

Now I know no more than I have told of this story of the Lost Sylphid. I tell the tale as 'twas told to me; and I wish, with all my heart, it were true.

THE CASTLE OF GEMS.

Once upon a time, though I cannot tell when, and in what country I do not now remember, there lived a maiden as fair as a lily, as gentle as a dewdrop, and as modest as a violet. A pure, sweet name she had,--it was Blanche.

She stood one evening, with her friend Victor, by the shore of a lake. Never had the youth or maiden seen the moonlight so enchanting; but they did not know

"It was midsummer day,
When all the fairy people
From elf-land come away."

Presently, while they gazed at the lake, which shone like liquid emerald and sapphire and topaz, a boat, laden with strangely beautiful beings, glided towards them across the waters. The fair voyagers were clad in robes of misty blue with white mantles about their waists, and on their heads wreaths of valley-lilies.

They were all as fair as need be; but fairest of all was the helms-woman, the queen of the fairies. Her face was soft and clear like moonlight; and she wore a crown of nine large diamonds, which refracted the evening rays, and formed nine lunar rainbows.

The fairies were singing a roundelay; and, as the melody floated over the waters, Victor and Blanche listened with throbbing hearts. Fairy music has almost passed away from the earth; but those who hear it are strangely moved, and have dreams of beautiful things which have been, and may be again.

"It makes me think of the days of long ago when there was no sin," whispered Blanche.

"It makes me long to be a hero," answered Victor with a sparkling eye.

All the while the pearly boat was drifting toward the youth and maiden; and, when it had touched the shore, the queen stepped out upon the land as lightly as if she had been made entirely of dewdrops.

"I am Fontana," said she; "and is this Blanche?"

She laid her soft hand upon the maiden's shoulder; and Blanche thought she would like to die then and there, so full was she of joy.

"I have heard of thy good heart, my maiden: now what would please thee most?" said the queen.

Blanche bowed her head, and dared not speak.

Queen Fontana smiled: when she smiled it was as if a soft cloud had slid away from the moon, revealing a beautiful light.

"Say pearls and diamonds," said Victor in her ear.

"I don't know," whispered Blanche: "they are not the best things."

"No," said the queen kindly: "pearls and diamonds are _not_ the best things."

Then Blanche knew that her whisper had been overheard, and she hid her face in her hands for shame. But the queen only smiled down on her, and, without speaking, dropped into the ground a little seed. Right at the feet of Blanche, it fell; and, in a moment, two green leaves shot upward, and between them a spotless lily, which hung its head with modest grace.

Victor gazed at the perfect flower in wonder, and, before he knew it, said aloud, "Ah, how like Blanche!"

The queen herself broke it from the stem, and gave it to the maiden, saying,--

"Take it! it is my choicest gift. Till it fades (which will never be), love will be thine; and, in time to come, it will have power to open the strongest locks, and swing back the heaviest doors.

"'Gates of brass cannot withstand
One touch of this magic wand.'"

Blanche looked up to thank the queen; but no words came,--only tears.

"I see a wish in thine eyes," said Fontana.

"It is for Victor," faltered Blanche, at last: "he wishes to be rich and great."

The queen looked grave.

"Shall I make him one of the great men of the earth, little Blanche? Then he may one day go to the ends of the world, and forget thee."

Blanche only smiled, and Victor's cheek flushed.

"I shall be a great man," said he,--"perhaps a prince; but, where I go, Blanche shall go: she will be my wife."

"That is well," said the queen: "never forget Blanche, for her love will be your dearest blessing."

Then, removing from her girdle a pair of spectacles, she placed them in the youth's hand. He drew back in surprise. "Does she take me for an old man?" thought he. He had expected a casket of gems at least; perhaps a crown.

"Wait," said Fontana: "they are the eyes of Wisdom. When you have learned their use, you will not despise my gift. Keep a pure heart, and always remember Blanche. And now farewell!"

So saying, she moved on to the boat, floating over the ground as softly as a creeping mist.

When Blanche awoke next morning, her first thought was, "Happy are the maidens who have sweet dreams!" for she thought she had only been wandering in a midsummer's night's dream; so, when she saw her lily in the broken pitcher where she had placed it, great was her delight. But a change had come over it during the night. It was no longer a common lily,--its petals were large pearls, and the green leaves were now green emeralds. This strange thing had happened to the flower, that it might never fade.

After this, people looked at Blanche, and said, "How is it? she grows fairer every day!" and every one loved her; for the human heart has no choice but to love what is good and gentle.

As for Victor, he at first put on his spectacles with a scornful smile: but, when he had worn them a moment, he found them very wonderful things. When he looked through them, he could see people's thoughts written out on their faces; he could easily decipher the fine writing which you see traced on green leaves; and found there were long stories written on pebbles in little black and gray dots.

When he wore the spectacles, he looked so wise, that Blanche hardly dared speak to him. She saw that one day he was to become a great man.

At last Victor said he must leave his home, and sail across the seas. Tears filled the eyes of Blanche; but the youth whispered,--

"I am going away to find a home for you and me: so adieu, dearest Blanche!"

Now Victor thought the ship in which he sailed moved very slowly; for he longed to reach the land which he could see through his magic spectacles: it was a beautiful kingdom, rich with mines of gold and silver.

When the ship touched shore, the streets were lined with people who walked to and fro with sad faces. The king's daughter, a beautiful young maiden, was very ill; and it was feared she must die.

Victor asked one of the people if there was no hope.

It so happened that this man was the greatest physician in the kingdom and he answered,--

"Alas, there is no hope!"

Then Victor went to a distant forest where he knew a healing spring was to be found. Very few remembered it was there; and those who had seen it did not know of its power to heal disease.

Victor filled a crystal goblet with the precious water, and carried it to the palace. The old king shook his head sadly, but consented to let the attendants moisten the parched lips of the princess with the water, as it could do no harm. Far from doing harm, it wrought a great good; and, in time, the royal maiden was restored to health.

Then, for gratitude, the king would have given his daughter to Victor for a wife; but Victor remembered Blanche, and knew that no other maiden must be bride of his.

Not long after this, the king was lost overboard at sea during a storm. Now the people must have a new ruler. They determined to choose a wise and brave man; and, young as he was, no man could be found braver and wiser than Victor: so the people elected him for their king. Thus Fontana's gift of the eyes of Wisdom had made him truly "one of the great men of earth."

In her humble home, Blanche dreamed every night of Victor, and hoped he would grow good, if he did not become great; and Victor remembered Blanche, and knew that her love was his dearest blessing.

"This old palace," thought he, "will never do for my beautiful bride."

So he called together his people, and told them he must have a castle of gems. Some of the walls were to be of rubies, some of emeralds, some of pearls. There was to be any amount of beaten gold for doors and pillars; and the ceilings were to be of milk-white opals, with a rosy light which comes and goes.

All was done as he desired; and, when the castle of gems was finished, it would need a pen of jasponyx dipped in rainbows to describe it.

Victor thought he would not have a guard of soldiers for his castle, but would lock the four golden gates with a magic key, so that no one could enter unless the gates should swing back of their own accord.

When the castle of gems was just completed, and not a soul was in it, Victor locked the gates with a magic key, and then dropped the key into the ocean.

"Now," thought he, "I have done a wise thing. None but the good and true can enter my castle of gems. The gates will not swing open for men with base thoughts or proud hearts!"

Then he hid himself under the shadow of a tree, and watched the people trying to enter. But they were proud men, and so the gates would not open.

King Victor laughed, and said to himself,--

"I have done a wise thing with my magic key. How safe I shall be in my castle of gems!"

So he stepped out of his hiding-place, and said to the people,--

"None but the good and true can get in."

Then he tried to go in himself; but the gates would not move.

The king bowed his head in shame, and walked back to his old palace.

"Alas!" said he to himself, "wise and great as I am, I thought _I_ could go in. I see it must be because I am filled with pride. Let me hide my face; for what would Blanche say if she knew, that, because my heart is proud, I am shut out of my own castle? I am not worthy that she should love me; but I hope I shall learn of her to be humble and good."

The next day he sailed for the home of his childhood. When Blanche saw him, she blushed, and cast down her eyes; but Victor knew they were full of tears of joy. He held her hand, and whispered,--

"Will you go with me and be my bride, beautiful Blanche?"

"I will go with you," she answered softly; and Victor's heart rejoiced.

All the while Blanche never dreamed that he was a great prince, and that the men who came with him were his courtiers.

When they reached Victor's kingdom, and the people shouted "Long live the queen!" Blanche veiled her face, and trembled; for Victor whispered in her ear that the shouts were for her. And, as the people saw her beautiful face through her gossamer veil, they cried all the more loudly,--

"Long live Queen Blanche! Thrice welcome, fair lady!"

The sun was sinking in the west, and his rays fell with dazzling splendor upon the castle of gems. When Blanche saw the silent, closed castle and its golden gates, she remembered the words of Queen Fontana, who had said that her lily should have power to "open the strongest locks, and swing back the heaviest doors."

Like one walking in a dream, she led Victor toward the resplendent castle. She touched, with her lily, the lock which fastened one of the gates.

"Gates of gold could not withstand
One touch of that magic wand."

In an instant, the hinges trembled; and the massive door swung open so far, that forty people could walk in side by side. Then it slowly closed, and locked itself without noise.

One of the people who passed in was the king, whose heart was no longer proud. The others, who had entered unwittingly, could not speak for wonder. Some of them were poor, and some were lame or blind; but all were good and true.

At the rising of the moon a wonderful thing came to pass. The people entered the castle of gems, and became beautiful. This was through the power of the magic lily.

Now there were no more crooked backs and lame feet and sightless eyes; and the king looked at these people, who were beautiful as well as good, and declared he would have them live in the castle; and the gentlemen should be knights; and the ladies, maids of honor.

To this day Victor and Blanche rule the kingdom; and such is the charm of the lily,--so like the pure heart of the queen,--that the people are becoming gentle and good.

Until Queen Fontana shall call for the magic spectacles and the lily of pearl, it is believed that Victor and Blanche will live in the castle of gems, though the time should be a hundred years.

THE ELF OF LIGHT.

A NORSE TALE.

In the strange island of Iceland, thrown up, by fire, from the depths of the sea, there once lived a lad who worshipped the god Odin, and was taught from two absurd books called the Eddas. He wished to fight and die on a battle-field, so that his soul might cross a rainbow-bridge, and dwell in the beautiful halls of Valhalla. There--so the Eddas say--are the chosen heroes, who are forever fighting all day, and feasting all night.

Thus, instead of a Bible, young Thule studied wild fairy-tales; yet, for all his heathenish training, he had some noble traits, which a Christian lad might imitate.

He lived with his widowed mother at the edge of a forest. The snow piled itself in drifts, and the wind howled through the trees, and crept in at the windows; for the cottage was old, and a blind hurricane might almost have mistaken it for a heap of brushwood. But Thule was quite as happy as if the hut had been a palace. He loved the winter-beauty of his mother's face, and the silvery hair half hidden under her black cap. All the fire they burned was made of the dry sticks he gathered in the forest, and more than half the money they used was earned by his small hands.

In one of the ice-months of the year, when the weather was sharper than a serpent's tooth, Thule came home from a hard day's work; and, the chillier he grew, the more he whistled to keep up a brave heart. Looking at the horizon before him, he saw the cold glare which we call Northern Lights, but which he knew to be the flickering of helmets and shields and spears.

"The warlike maidens are out to-night," thought the boy: "they are going to the battle-fields to decide who is worthy to be slain. How I love to see the sky lighted up with the flash of their armor! Odin, grant I may one day be a hero, and walk over the bridge of a rainbow!"

Then Thule went to his whistling again; but, just as he struck into the forest where the deep shadows lay, he heard a faint moan, which sounded like a human voice, or might have been a sudden gust of wind in a hollow tree.

"Perchance it is some poor creature even colder than I," thought the boy: "I hope not a _troll_!"

Hurrying to the spot whence the sound came, he found an ugly, long-nosed dwarf lying on the ground, nearly perishing with cold. It was growing late, and the boy himself was benumbed; but he went briskly to work, chafing the hands and face of the stranger, even taking off his own blue jacket to wrap it about the dwarf's neck.

"Poor old soul, you shall not die of cold!" said he; then, helping him to rise, he added cheerily, "We will go to my mother's cottage, and have a warm supper of oat-cakes and herrings; and our fire of dry boughs will do you good."

The noble boy knew there was barely supper enough for two, but did not mind going hungry to bed for charity's sake. In the ear of his heart, he heard the words of his mother:--

"Never fear starving, my son, but freely share your last loaf with the needy."

They walked through the forest, the old man leaning heavily on the youth's shoulder.

"Why should you befriend a poor wretch who cannot repay you?" whined the dwarf in a hollow voice which startled Thule, it was so like the echo sent back by a mountain or a rock.

"I do not ask or wish to be repaid," was the reply. "Don't you know what the proverb says? 'Do good, and throw it into the sea; if the fishes don't know it, _Odin_ will!'"

"Yes: Odin shall know it, never fear," answered the dwarf; "but, as I happen to be informed that your tea-table is not quite large enough for three, I think I will decline your invitation to supper. Really, my lad," he continued, "it would delight me to do you a little favor; for, though I am only a poor dwarf, I know how to be grateful. By the way, have you seen such a thing hereabouts as a green alder-tree?"

"A green alder-tree in winter-time!" cried Thule.

"A curious thing, indeed," said the dwarf; "but I chanced to see one the other night in my rambles. Ah! look, here it is right before your eyes."

All the other forest-trees were dry and hard, their hearts frozen within them; but this tree was alive, hidden behind a clump of firs. When Thule began to dig about its roots, it seemed to come out of the ground of its own free will, and to lie over his shoulders as if it would caress him.

"Take home the little tree, and plant it before your door, my lad."

The youth turned to thank the stranger; but he had vanished. Then Thule ran home with all speed to tell his mother of the little old man who had faded from his sight like a wreath of smoke.

"Now I wonder what it is you have seen," said the good woman, raising her hands in surprise. "Was he brown, my son, with a long nose?"

"As brown as a nut, mother, with no end of nose."

"Just as I supposed, my child! That dwarf is a wonderful creature,--one of the night-elves, a race gifted with great understanding. Know, my son, that he carves runes upon stones; and he no doubt assisted in making Thor's hammer, that terrible instrument which can crush the skull of a giant."

"One thing I observed," said the boy: "he blinked at that flashing in the sky, which people call Northern Lights; he had to shade his eyes with his funny little hand."

"Did he, indeed? Poor Elf! Light is painful to his race; and I have even heard that a stroke of sunshine is able to turn them into stones. I am almost afraid of this little tree," added the good mother musingly. "You know what we read in the holy Eddas: Both the alder and the ash trees should be held sacred; for Odin formed man from the ash, and woman from the alder. Nevertheless, the night-elf could not have meant to do you a mischief. Let us plant the tree as he directed."

"What, in the frozen ground, under the snow?"

But it now, for the first time, appeared that there was a spot of earth near the south window, which must have been waiting for the tree, since it was as soft and warm as if the sun had been shining on it all the year. Here they planted the alder; and Thule brought water, and moistened the roots.

Next morning the tree seemed to have grown a foot higher; and by daylight its leaves showed a silver lining.

"May Odin favor my pretty alder!" said Thule; "nor let the frost pinch it, nor the winds blacken its green buds!"

Thule went into the woods again; and, as he was whistling at his work, he happened to look down, and there, on the ground, at his feet, lay a purse, well lined with gold. He counted the pieces: fifty, all bright and new.

"I will go to the town," thought the boy, shaking his head and sighing (for the gold was very tempting), "I will go to the town, and ask who has lost a purse with fifty pieces of precious gold. Ah, me! I wish I could keep it! then we should swim in herrings and oil; and who knows but, for once in my life, I might even get a taste of venison?"

But next moment he loosened his greedy clutch at the purse. "No matter how bravely it shines! it is not _my_ gold; and it is too heavy for me to carry. Stolen money is worse than a mill-stone about one's neck, so my mother says."

"Keep the purse, little boy," said a sweet voice close by his elbow. He turned, and saw a beautiful child, as radiant as a sunbeam, and clad in garments of delicate and transparent texture.

"I will be your friend, little boy. That purse was dropped by a lady who wears a fur cloak and long veil. If she asks for her treasure, I can say it fell into a hole in the ground. Everybody believes me: never fear!"

"Poor misguided angel!" said the boy, amazed by her wondrous beauty no less than by her apparent want of truth. "You are, indeed, a lovely little tempter; but I have a dear mother at home, and I love her better than a million pieces of gold. I must go to the town, and seek out this lady you mention, who wears a fur cloak and long veil."

"Nay, if you will be so stupid," said the shining child, "why, I will even go with you, and show you the way."

So, gliding gracefully before the bewildered youth, she led him out of the forest, into the most crowded part of the city, up to the door of a splendid mansion; but, when Thule turned his head only an instant, she was gone, and no trace of her was to be seen: she seemed to have melted into sunshine.

The lady of the house received the purse with thanks, and would gladly have given Thule a piece of the gold; but, much as the boy longed for it, he put it aside, saying, "No, madam: my mother assures me I must be honest without the hope of reward. She would not like me to take wages for not being a thief!"

The next morning the alder-tree had grown another foot; and Thule and his mother watched the growing leaves, and touched them with reverent fingers. They were certainly of a tender green, lined with shining silver.

"May Odin favor my pretty alder!" said Thule; "nor let the frost pinch it, nor the winds blacken its green buds!"

Then Thule kissed his mother, and trudged off to the forest as usual. But he seemed doomed to adventures; for this time he was met by three armed men, who were roaming the country as if seeking something.

"Prithee, little urchin," said one of the men, "can you tell us what has become of a young alder-tree, whose green leaves are lined with silver?"

"I dug up an alder-bush, kind sirs," replied the boy, trembling, and remembering that his mother had said she was almost afraid of that little tree.

"There are many alder-bushes," said another of the men gruffly; "but only one is green at this time of year, and has silver-lined leaves. It was placed here by command of the giant Loki, and no one was to touch it under pain of death; for, when his mountain-garden should be laid out in the spring, the tree was to be uprooted, and planted therein."

Thule grew almost as stiff and white as if a frost-giant had suddenly breathed on him. He knew that Loki was a pitiless god, feared by all, and beloved by none,--a god who had an especial grudge against the whole human race.

"I will hold my peace," thought Thule. "I will never confess that the tree I carried away has silver-lined leaves. I will hasten home, pluck up the bush, and burn it: then who will be the wiser?"

But Thule, in spite of his trembling, could not forget his good mother's counsel:--

"Your words, my boy, let them be truth, and nothing but truth, though a sword should be swinging over your head."

Then, as soon as his voice returned to him, he confessed that the tree he had removed was really just such an one as the men described, and begged for mercy, because, as he said, he had committed the sin ignorantly, not knowing the mandate of the terrible giant.

But the men bade Thule lead them to his mother's house, and point out his stolen treasure; declaring that they could show no mercy; for, when Loki had made a decree, no man should alter it by one jot or one tittle.

"Oh!" thought the unfortunate boy, wringing his hands, and trembling till the woollen tassel on his cap danced a gallopade, "oh, if the cruel night-elf, who led me into this mischief, would only come forward now, and help me out of it! But, alas, it is of no avail to invoke him; for it is now broad daylight, and the sun would strike him into a stone image in a twinkling."

When Thule, followed by the messengers of Loki, had reached the door of his cottage, he found his gray-haired mother sprinkling the roots of the beautiful alder, and fondling its leaves with innocent pleasure. At sight of the armed men, she started back in affright.

"It is indeed the giant's tree," said the men to Thule. "Pluck it up, and follow us with it to Loki's castle on the mountain."

"To Loki's castle!" shrieked the wretched mother. "Then he must pass a frightful wilderness, be assailed by the frost-giants; and, if there be any breath left in him, Loki will dash it out at a glance! Have mercy on a poor old mother, O good soldiers!"

The unhappy boy touched the tree, and it came out of the ground of its own free will; and, in a trice, stood on its feet, shook out its branches into arms, and in another moment was no longer a tree, but a child, with a beauty as dazzling as sunshine.

"Unfortunate men!" said she, in a voice whose angriest tones were sweeter than the music of an AEolian harp, "unfortunate are you in being the servants of Loki! Go, tell your cruel master that the schemes he has plotted against me and mine have all failed: my enchantment is over forever. Yonder boy," said she, pointing to little Thule, "has saved me. I was, and still remain, an elf of light, as playful and harmless as sunshine. The merciless Loki, enraged at the love I bear the children of men, changed me to a little alder-tree, which is the emblem of girlhood. But he had no power to keep me in that form forever. He was obliged to make a condition, and he made the hardest one that his artful mind could invent: 'Since you love mortals so dearly,' said he, 'no one but a mortal shall free you from your imprisonment. You shall remain a tree till a good child shall touch you,--a child who is generous enough to SHARE HIS LAST LOAF WITH A STRANGER, honest enough to GIVE BACK A REWARD FOR HIS HONESTY, brave enough to SPEAK THE TRUTH WHEN A LIE WOULD HAVE SAVED HIS LIFE. Long shall you wait for such a deliverer!'

"Now how amazed will Loki be when he learns that this little boy has been tempted in all these particulars, yet proves true. My poor soldiers, you may return whence you came, for the alder-tree will never rustle its silver leaves in the mountain-garden of Loki."

Then the men disappeared, not sorry that the good boy had escaped his threatened doom.

Thule, looking at the beautiful elf so lately a tree, could hardly trust his own eyes; and I fancy that many a boy, even at the present day, would have felt rather bewildered under the circumstances.

"Shining child!" said he: "you look vastly like the wonderful little being who led me out of the forest yesterday."

"That may well be," replied the elf of light; "for she is my sister. The brown dwarf who pointed out to you the alder-tree is also an excellent friend of mine, though, strange to say, I have never seen him. We love to aid each other in all possible ways; yet we can never meet, for there is a fatality in my eyes which would strike him dead. He had heard of Thule, the little woodcutter who was called so brave and generous and true. He tried you, you see; and so did my frolicsome sister, who was fairly ablaze with delight when she found you could not be tempted to steal!"

Thule's mother had stood all the while on the threshold, overawed and dumb. Now she came forward, and said,--

"I am prouder to-day than I should be if my son had slain ten men on the battle-field!"

The beautiful elf of light, penetrated with gratitude and admiration, remained Thule's fast friend as long as he lived. She gave the lad and his mother an excellent home, and made them happy all the days of their lives.

THE PRINCESS HILDA.

Princess Hildegarde sat at an open window, looking out upon her garden of flowers. She was very beautiful, with a face as fair and sweet as a rose. Not far off sat, watching her, her young cousin Zora, with a frown on her brow.

There was bitter hatred in Zora's heart because Hildegarde was rich and she was poor; because Hildegarde would, in time, be a queen, and she one of her subjects. Moreover, Hildegarde was so beautiful and good that the fame of her loveliness had spread far and wide; and it was for her beauty that Zora hated her more than for any thing else.

In childhood Zora had been very fair; and the courtiers had petted her, and pronounced her even fairer than the princess; but her beauty had never meant any thing but bright eyes and cherry cheeks: so it could not last. If she had only cherished pure thoughts and kind wishes, she might still have been as lovely as Hilda; but who does not know that evil feelings write themselves on the face?

Jealousy had pulled her mouth down at the corners; deceit had given it a foolish smirk; spite had plowed an ugly frown in her brow; while she had tried so many arts to make her rich brown skin as delicately white as Hilda's, that it was changed to the tint of chrome yellow.

It was said in those days, that Zora was in the power of wicked fairies, who twisted her features into the shape that pleased them best.

At any rate, how the amiable Princess Hilda was to blame for all these deformities it would be hard to say; and she little dreamed of the malice in her cousin's heart.

But, while Hilda was looking out of the window, a noble knight passed that way; and so delighted was he with the rare sweetness of her face, that he forgot himself, and paused a moment to gaze at her. The princess blushed, and let fall the silken curtain; but Zora had seen the knight, and knew he was the royal Prince Reginald. She ground her teeth in rage; for she had determined that the prince should never see her beautiful cousin.

"They shall not meet," said she to herself: "no, not if there are bad fairies enough to prevent it."

But, when the princess looked up, Zora was smiling very sweetly. Who could have dreamed that she was thinking of nothing but how to ruin the peace of her gentle cousin?

Zora could hardly wait for nightfall, so eager was she to do her wicked work. When it was dark, and all was quiet, she stole out of the castle, wearing a black mantle which hid her face.

"Now," thought she, "no one can recognize me, and I will seek the fairy Gerula."

You must know that Gerula was one of the most wicked and hideous sprites that ever existed. She dwelt in a cave far from the abodes of men. It was hidden by huge trees through which the wind never ceased howling. At evening owls hooted overhead, and many creeping things wound their length along the ground. The more toads and snakes she could see about her, the better was she pleased; for fairies, as well as mortals, are attracted by what is akin to themselves.

She was descended from a race called kobolds or goblins; and she loved all the metals which lie under the earth as well as the living things which crawl up out of its bosom.

So acute were her ears, that she heard Zora's steps from a great distance. She brushed back her elf-locks, and gave a low grunt like some wild beast. It pleased her that the Lady Zora should find need of her counsel; but, when Zora had reached the cave, the cunning fairy pretended to be sleeping, and started up in seeming surprise.

"What brings a body here at this time of night?" said she.

"I am Lady Zora. I have come, sweet fairy, to beg a favor. The Princess Hilda is hateful to me: work one of your charms on her, and let me see her face no more."

The old fairy pricked up her ears and said to herself, "Ha! ha! I will have nice sport out o' this!" then said aloud, "Say, what harm has the princess done to my rosebud, my lily, my pride?"

Zora's eyes flashed. "Prince Reginald has seen her; and to see her is to love her. My heart is set on wedding Prince Reginald. Take her out of his way!"

Just then a broad gleam of moonlight fell on the treacherous maiden. It was strange how much she looked like the cruel fairy; and Gerula gazed on her with delight.

"My beautiful viper!" said she, using the sweetest pet-name she could think of, "I will do your bidding. But first say what you will give me if I put Hildegarde out of your way."

Then she chuckled, and rubbed her hands in great glee. Zora started back in alarm.