HE Queen of Fairies passed last night,
The greenwood dancing through;
I watched her from my window-pane,
The round moon saw her too.
Her light wings fluttered airily,
A casket she did hold,
And lo! she scattered strings of pearls,
And shining beads of gold.
At break of day I hurried down,
To gather them with care;
Yet nought I saw but buttercups
And daisies lying there.
So now, I think the buttercups
And daisies in the green
Are jewels from the treasure-store
Of the kind Fairy Queen.
ROUND THE CAMP-FIRE.
By Harold Ericson.
II.—DENISON'S HALL-MARK.
'Now look here, you fellows,' began Denison, whose turn it was to entertain the company at the camp-fire the next night, 'don't you go laughing at the story I'm going to tell you, and pretending that you don't believe it's true, for that would hurt my feelings, and I might burst into tears, and you wouldn't like to see a strong man weep!'
'Go on,' said Bobby, rudely, 'or perhaps one of us will give the strong man something to weep for!'
Denison eyed the speaker with contempt, but plunged into his tale at once. 'See this mark?' he said, turning up his sleeve and showing a scar upon his forearm, 'and this?' he indicated a mark on his neck; 'Well, you're going to hear how I came by these. Do you know what a Hall-mark is? A lion stamped on good metal; that's it, isn't it? Well, these are Hall-marks: the stamp of a lion; only Stationers' Hall didn't stamp them: the lion made his own mark on me. I've got more of them on my arms and legs.'