Then the pictures for a while grew blurred and confused, till presently they shewed the gas-lighted streets of London. . . .
"My God, I will see no more!" cried the girl. And she shudderingly held her hand before her eyes.
"Nor I, either!" cried the man, with an oath.
"However much you close your eyes," said the Showman, "you will cancel nothing of the pictures on the screen."
But they had turned and fled even while he was speaking.
"Even in the fair the pictures will pursue you!" said the stern-visaged Showman, following them with his eyes.
THE MAN WHO DESIRED TO BE
A TREE.
The sunshine streamed across the lush-grassed meadows, and beat fiercely down on the huge-limbed elms whose myriad leaves kept fluttering ceaselessly. In the dense green covert, formed by the multitude of interlacing branches, several wee brown songsters had built their nests, and they kept flitting to and fro and trilling joyously as the light breeze stirred the innumerable leaves.