The moon was dim when we went to bed,
And the stars were covered over,
When the wee white fairies came o'erhead,
And, whirling down the wind, they sped
The trees and ground to cover.
They danced all night o'er field and rill
To the pipe the breeze was blowing:
When the sun came peeping up the hill
To see what made the world so still,
They whispered, "Let's be going!"
GEORGE COOPER.
RED CORAL BEADS.
"Did I ever tell you how I lost my red coral beads, and where they were found?" I said this to my boys, Roy and Fred, one frosty night, when we were all gathered around the bright open fire.
"No!" said Fred decidedly. "That is a new story. Does it tell about the time when you were a little girl? and about the farmhouse and the sitting-room with the big fireplace, and the bellows, and the queer hour-glass, and the old-fashioned iron snuffers in a red tray?"
"Yes," I answered, "it is about every thing you like to hear so well." Then I told the story as follows:—
"My story begins in the long, low, pleasant farmhouse sitting-room, with its big beam running across the low ceiling. There was also a great fireplace, and a wide stone hearth. There we children cracked our nuts, and there, on winter evenings, a great basket of Rhode-Island Greenings always stood warming in the corner. Of course there was a wide mantel over the fireplace. On it stood two tall silver candlesticks, between them were the hour-glass and the snuffer-tray, and at each end of the shelf was a stiff vase, filled with peacock feathers."