 INTRODUCTION OF FLOWER FABLES INTRODUCTION Wondering shadows, colors, clouds, grass buds and caterpillar shrouds, boughs on which the wild bees settle, tints that spot the violets' petal. EMERSON'S WOOD NOTES To Ellen Emerson, for whom they were fancied, these flower fables are inscribed by her friend the author, Boston, December 9, 1854. The summer moon shone brightly down on the sleeping earth, while far away from mortal eyes danced the fairy folk. Fireflies hung in bright clusters on the dewy leaves that waved in the cool night wind, and the flowers stood gazing in very wonder at the little elves who lay among the fern leaves, swung in the vine-bows, sailed on the lake in lily-cups, or danced on the mossy ground to the music of the hair-bells, who rung out their merriest peel in honour of the night. Under the shade of a wild rose sat the queen and her little maids of honour, beside the silvery mushroom where the feast was spread. Now, my friends, said she, to while away the time till the bright moon goes down, let us each tell a tale or relate what we have done or learned this day. I will begin with you, Sonny Locke, added she, turning to a lovely little elf who lay among the fragrant leaves of a primrose. With a gay smile Sonny Locke began her story. As I was painting the bright petals of a blue-bell, it told me this tale. End of introduction. CHAPTER 1 OF FLOWER FABLES Three little fairies sat in the fields eating their breakfast. Each among the leaves of her favourite flower, daisy, primrose and violet, were happy as elves need bee. The morning wind gently rocked them to and fro, and the sun shone warmly down upon the dewy grass where butterflies spread their gay wings and bees with their deep voices sung among the flowers, while the little birds hopped merrily about to peep at them. On a silvery mushroom was spread the breakfast, little cakes of flower dust lay on a broad green leaf beside a crimson strawberry, which with sugar from the violet and cream from the yellow milkweed made a fairy meal, and their drink was the dew from the flower's bright leaves. Ah, me, sighed primrose, throwing herself languidly back. How warm the sun grows! Give me another piece of strawberry, and then I must hasten away to the shadow of the ferns. But while I eat, tell me, dear violet, why are you all so sad? I have scarce seen a happy face since my return from Roseland. Your friend, what means it? I will tell you, replied little violet, the tears gathering in her soft eyes. Our good queen is ever striving to keep the dear flowers from the power of the cruel frost king. Many ways she tried, but all have failed. She has sent messengers to his court with costly gifts. But all have returned sick for want of sunlight, weary and sad. We have watched over them heedless of sun or shower, but still his dark spirits do their work, and we are left to weep over our blighted blossoms. Thus have we striven and in vain, and this night our queen holds counsel for the last time. Therefore we are sad, dear primrose, for she has toiled and cared for us, and we can do nothing to help or advise her now. It is indeed a cruel thing, replied her friend, but as we cannot help it we must suffer patiently and not let the sorrows of others disturb our happiness. But dear sisters, see you not how high the sun is getting? I have my locks to curl and my robe to prepare for the evening. Therefore I must be gone, or I shall be brown as a withered leaf in this warm light. Though gathering a tiny mushroom for a parasol, she flew away, Daisy soon followed, and Violet was left alone. Then she spread the table afresh, and to it came fearlessly the busy aunt and bee, gay butterfly and bird. Even the poor blind mole and humble worm were not forgotten, and with gentle words she gave to all, while each learned something of their kind little teacher, and the love that made her own heart bright shone alike on all. The aunt and bee learned generosity, the butterfly and bird contentment, the mole and worm confidence in the love of others, and each went to their home better for the little time they had been with Violet. Evening came and with it troops of elves to counsel their good queen, who, seated on her mossy throne, looked anxiously upon the throng below, whose glittering wings and rustling robes gleamed like many-colored flowers. At length she rose, and amid the deep silence spoke thus, Dear children, let us not tire of a good work, hard though it be and weary some. Think of the many little hearts that in their sorrow look to us for help. What would the green earth be without its lovely flowers, and what a lonely home for us? Their beauty fills our hearts with brightness, and their love with tender thoughts. Ought we then to leave them to die uncared for and alone? They give to us their all. Ought we not to toil unceasingly, that they may bloom in peace within their quiet homes? We have tried to gain the love of the stern Frost King, but in vain. His heart is hard as his own icy land. No love can melt, no kindness bring it back to sunlight and to joy. How then may we keep our frail blossoms from his cruel spirits? Who will give us counsel? Who will be our messenger for the last time? Speak my subjects! Then a great murmuring arose, and many spoke, some for costlier gifts, some for war, and the fearful counseled patience and submission. Long and eagerly they spoke, and their soft voices rose high. Then sweet music sounded on the air, and the loud tones were hushed, as in wondering silence the fairies waited what should come. Through the crowd there came a little form, a wreath of pure white violets lay among the bright locks that fell so softly around the gentle face, where a deep blush glowed, as kneeling at the throne little violet said, Dear Queen, we have bent to the Frost King's power, we have borne gifts unto his pride, but have we gone trustingly to him and spoken fearlessly of his evil deeds? Have we shed the soft light of unwearyed love around his cold heart, and with patient tenderness shown him how bright and beautiful love can make even the darkest plot? Our messengers have gone fearfully, and with cold looks and courtly words offered him rich gifts, things he cared not for, and with equal pride he has sent them back. Then let me, the weakest of your band, go to him, trusting in the love I know lies hidden in the coldest heart. I will bear only a garland of our fairest flowers. These will I wind about him, and their bright faces, looking lovingly in his, will bring sweet thoughts to his dark mind, and their soft breath steal in like gentle words. Then when he sees them fading on his breast, will he not sigh that there is no warmth there to keep them fresh and lovely? This will I do, Dear Queen, and never leave his dreary home, till the sunlight falls on flowers fair as those that bloom in our own dear land. Already the Queen had listened, but now, rising and placing her hand on little Violet's head, she said, turning to the throng below, we in our pride and power have aired, while this, the weakest and lowliest of our subjects, has from the innocence of our own pure heart counseled us more wisely than the noblest of our train. All who will aid our brave little messenger, lift your wands, that we may know who will place their trust in the power of love. Every dreary wand glistened in the air, as with silvery voices they cried, love and little Violet. Then down from the throne, hand in hand, came the Queen and Violet, and till the moon sank did the fairies toil to weave a wreath of the fairest flowers. Tenderly they gathered them, with the night dew fresh upon their leaves, and as they wove chanted sweet spells, then whispered fairy blessings on the bright messengers whom they sent forth to die in a dreary land, that their gentle kindred might bloom unharmed. At length it was done, and the fair flowers lay glowing in the soft starlight, while beside them stood the fairies singing to the music of the wind-harps. We are sending you, dear flowers, forth alone to die, where your gentle sisters may not weep, or the cold graves where you lie, but you go to bring them fadeless life in the bright homes where they dwell, and you softly smile that tis so, as we sadly sing farewell. O plead with gentle words for us, and whisper tenderly, of generous love to that cold heart, and it will answer ye, and though you fade in a dreary home, yet loving hearts will tell, of the joy and peace that you have given, flowers, dear flowers, farewell. The morning sun looked softly down upon the broad green earth, which like a mighty altar was sending up clouds of perfume from its breast, while flowers danced gaily in the summer wind, and birds sang their morning hymn among the cool green leaves. Then high above, on shining wings, soared a little form. The sunlight rested softly on the silken hair, and the winds fanned lovingly the bright face, and brought the sweetest odors to cheer her on. Thus went Violet through the clear air, and the earth looked smiling up to her, as with the bright wreath folded in her arms, she flew among the soft white clouds. On and on she went, over hill and valley, broad rivers and rustling woods, till the warm sunlight passed away, the winds grew cold, and the air thick with falling snow. Then far below she saw the Frost King's home. Pillars of hard gray ice supported the high arched roof, hung with crystal icicles. Tree gardens lay around, filled with withered flowers and bare drooping trees, while heavy clouds hung low in the dark sky, and a cold wind murmured sadly through the wintery air. With a beating heart Violet folded her fading wreath more closely to her breast, and with weary wings flew onward to the dreary palace. Here before the closed doors stood many forms with dark faces and harsh discordant voices, who sternly asked the shivering little fairy why she came to them. Gently she answered, telling them her errand, beseeching them to let her pass ere the cold wind blighted her frail blossoms. Then they flung wide the doors, and she passed in. Walls of ice carved with strange figures were around her. Glittering icicles hung from the high roof, and soft white snow covered the hard floors. When a throne hung with clouds sat the frost king, a crown of crystals bound his white locks, and a dark mantle wrought with delicate frost work was folded over his cold breast. His stern face could not stay a little Violet, and on through the long hall she went, heedless of the snow that gathered on her feet and the bleak wind that blew around her, while the king with wondering eyes looked on the golden light that played upon the dark walls as she passed. The flowers, as if they knew their part, unfolded their bright leaves, and poured forth their sweetest perfume, as kneeling at the throne the brave little fairy said, O king of blight and sorrow, send me not away till I have brought back the light and joy that will make your dark home bright and beautiful again. Let me call back to the desolate gardens the fair forms that are gone, and their soft voices blessing you will bring to your breast a never-failing joy. Rest by your icy crown and scepter, and let the sunlight of love fall softly on your heart. Then will the earth bloom again in all its beauty, and your dim eyes will rest only on fair forms, while music shall sound through these dreary halls, and the love of grateful hearts will be yours. Have pity on the gentle flower spirits, and do not doom them to an early death, when they might bloom in fadeless beauty, making us wiser by their gentle teachings, and the earth brighter by their lovely forms. These fair flowers, with the prayers of all fairyland, I lay before you, O send me not away till they are answered. And with tears falling thick and fast upon their tender leaves, Violet laid the wreath at his feet, while the golden light grew ever brighter as it fell upon the little form so humbly kneeling there. The king's stern face grew milder as he gazed on the gentle fairy, and the flowers seemed to look beseechingly upon him, while their fragrant voices sounded softly in his ear, telling of their dying sisters and of the joy it gives to bring happiness to the weak and sorrowing. But he drew the dark mantle closer over his breast and answered coldly, I cannot grant your prayer, little fairy, it is my will the flowers should die. Go back to your queen and tell her that I cannot yield my power to please these foolish flowers. Then Violet hung the wreath above the throne, and with weary foot went forth again out into the cold dark gardens, and still the golden shadows followed her, and wherever they fell, flowers bloomed and green leaves rustled. Then came the frost spirits, and beneath their cold wings the flowers died, while the spirits bore Violet to a low dark cell, saying as they left her that their king was angry that she had dared to stay when he had bid her go. So all alone she sat, and sad thoughts of her happy home came back to her, and she wept bitterly. But soon came visions of the gentle flowers dying in their forest homes, and their voices ringing in her ear imploring her to save them. Then she wept no longer, but patiently awaited what might come. Soon the golden light gleamed faintly through the cell, and she heard little voices calling for help, and high up among the heavy cobwebs hung poor little flies struggling to free themselves, while their cruel enemies sat in their nets watching their pain. With her wand the fairy broke the bands that held them, tenderly bound up their broken wings and healed their wounds, while they lay in the warm light and feebly hummed their thanks to their kind deliverer. Then she went to the ugly brown spiders, and in gentle words told them how in fairy land their kindred spun all the elven cloth, and in return the fairies gave them food, and then how happily they lived among the green leaves, spinning garments for their neighbors. And you too, said she, shall spin for me, and I will give you better food than helpless insects. You shall live in peace and spin your delicate threads into a mantle for the stern king, and I will weave golden threads amid the gray, that when folded over his cold heart gentle thoughts may enter in and make it their home. And while she gaily sung, the little weavers spun their silken threads, the flies on glittering wings flew lovingly above her head, and overall the golden might shone softly down. When the frost spirits told their king he greatly wondered and often stole to look at the sunny little room where friends and enemies worked peacefully together. Still the light grew brighter and floated out into the cold air where it hung like bright clouds above the dreary gardens once all the spirits' power could not drive it, and green leaves sputted on the naked trees and flowers bloomed, but the spirits heaped snow upon them and they bowed their heads and died. At length the mantle was finished and amid the gray threads shone golden ones making it bright, and she sent it to the king in treating him to wear it, for it would bring peace and love to dwell within his breast. But he scornfully threw it aside and bade his spirits take her to a colder cell, deep in the earth, and there with harsh words they left her. Still she sang gaily on, and the falling drops kept time so musically that the king in his cold ice halls wondered at the low sweet sounds that came stealing up to him. Thus vile it dwelt, and each day the golden light grew stronger, and from among the crevices of the rocky walls came troops of little velvet-coated mulls, praying that they might listen to the sweet music and lie in the warm light. "'We lead,' said they, a dreary life in the cold earth. The flower-roots are dead, and no soft dues descend for us to drink. No little seed or leaf can we find. Ah, good fairy, let us be your servants. Give us but a few crumbs of your daily bread, and we will do all in our power to serve you.' The violet said, yes, so day after day they labored to make a pathway through the frozen earth that she might reach the roots of the withered flowers, and soon wherever through the dark galleries she went the soft light fell upon the roots of flowers, and they with new life spread forth in the warm ground and forced fresh sap to the blossoms above. Brightly they bloomed and danced in the soft light, and the frost spirits tried in vain to harm them, for when they came beneath the bright clouds their power to do evil left them. From his dark castle the king looked out on the happy flowers, who nodded gaily to him, and in sweet colors strove to tell him of the good little spirit who toiled so faithfully below that they might live. And when he turned from the brightness without to his stately palace it seemed so cold and dreary that he folded violet's mantle around him and sat beneath the faded wreath upon his ice-carved throne, wondering at the strange warmth that came from it, till at length he bade his spirits bring the little fairy from her dismal prison. Soon they came hastening back and prayed him to come and see how lovely the dark cell had grown. The rough floor was spread with deep green moss, and over wall and roof grew flowery vines, filling the air with their sweet breath, while above played the clear soft light, casting rosy shadows on the glittering drops that lay among the fragrant leaves. And beneath the vines stood violet, casting crumbs to the downy little moles who ran fearlessly about and listened as she sang to them. When the old king saw how much fairer she had made the dreary cell than his palace rooms, gentle thoughts within whispered him to grant her prayer and let the little fairy go back to her friends and home. But the frost spirits breathed upon the flowers and bid him see how frail they were and useless to a king. Then the stern cold thoughts came back again and he harshly bid her follow him. With a sad farewell to her little friends she followed him and before the throne awaited his command. When the king saw how pale and sad the gentle face had grown, how thin her robe and weak her wings, and yet how lovingly the golden shadows fell around her and brightened as they lay upon the wand, which, guided by patient love, had made his once dussel at home so bright, he could not be cruel to the one who had done so much for him and in kindly tone he said, Little fairy, I offer you two things and you may choose between them. If I will vow never more to harm the flowers you may love, will you go back to your own people and leave me and my spirits to work our will on all the other flowers that bloom? The earth is broad and we can find them in any land, then why should you care what happens to their kindred if your own are safe? Will you do this? Ah, answered Violet sadly, do you not know that beneath the flowers bright leaves there beats a little heart that loves and sorrows like our own? And can I, heedless of their beauty, doom them to pain and grief, that I might save my own dear blossoms from the cruel foes to which I leave them? Ah, no, sooner would I dwell forever in your darkest cell than lose the love of those warm, trusting hearts. Then listen, said the king, to the task I give you. You shall raise up for me a palace fairer than this, and if you can work that miracle I will grant your prayer or lose my kingly crown. And now go forth and begin your task. My spirits shall not harm you, and I will wait till it is done before I blight another flower. Then out into the gardens went Violet with a heavy heart, for she had toiled so long her strength was nearly gone. But the flowers whispered their gratitude and folded their leaves as if they blessed her, and when she saw the garden filled with loving friends who strove to cheer and thank her for her care, courage and strength returned, and raising up thick clouds of mist that hid her from the wondering flowers alone and trustingly she began her work. As time went by the frost king feared the task had been too hard for the fairy. Sounds were heard behind the walls of mist, bright shadows seemed to pass within, but the little voice was never heard. Meanwhile the golden light had faded from the garden, the flowers bowed their heads, and all was dark and cold as when the gentle fairy came. And to the stern king his home seemed more desolate and sad, for he missed the warm light, the happy flowers, and more than all the gay voice and bright face of little Violet. So he wandered through his dreary palace, wondering how he had been content to live before without sunlight and love. And little Violet was mourned as dead in fairyland, and many tears were shed, for the gentle fairy was beloved by all, from the queen down to the humblest flower. Sadly they watched over every bird and blossom which she had loved and strove to be like her in kindly words and deeds. They wore cypress-reads and spoke of her as one whom they should never see again. Thus they dwelt in deepest sorrow, till one day there came to them an unknown messenger, wrapped in a dark mantle, who looked with wondering eyes on the bright palace and flower-crowned elves, who kindly received him and brought fresh dew and rosy fruit to refresh the weary stranger. Then he told them that he came from the frost king, who begged the queen and all her subjects to come and see the palace little Violet had built, for the veil of mist would soon be withdrawn, and as she could not make a fairer home than the ice-castle, the king wished her kindred near to comfort and to bear her home. And while the elves wept, he told them how patiently she had toiled, how her fadeless love had made the dark cell bright and beautiful. These and many other things he told them, for little Violet had won the love of many of the frost spirits, and even when they killed the flowers she had toiled so hard to bring to life and beauty, she spoke gentle words to them and sought to teach them how beautiful is love. Long stayed the messenger, and deeper grew his wonder that the fairy could have left so fair a home to toile in the dreary palace of his cruel master, and suffer cold and weariness to give life and joy to the weak and sorrowing. When the elves had promised they would come, he bade farewell to happy Fairyland and flew sadly home. At last the time had arrived, and out in his barren garden, under a canopy of dark clouds, sat the frost king before the misty wall, behind which were heard low, sweet sounds as a rustling trees and warbling birds. Soon through the air came many colored troops of elves, first the queen, known by the silver lilies on her snowy robe, and the bright crown in her hair, beside whom flew a band of elves in crimson and gold, baking sweet music in their flower trumpets, while all around, with smiling faces and bright eyes, flooded her loving subjects. On they came like a flock of brilliant butterflies, their shining wings and many colored garments sparkling in the dim air, and soon the leafless trees were gay with living flowers, and their sweet voices filled the gardens with music. Like his subjects the king looked on the lovely elves, and no longer wondered that little violet wept and longed for her home. Darker and more desolate seemed his stately home, and when the fairies asked for flowers he felt ashamed that he had none to give them. At length a warm wind swept through the gardens, and the mist clouds passed away, while in silent wonder looked the frost king and the elves upon the scene before them. Far as the eye could reach were tall green trees, whose drooping vows made graceful arches, through which the golden light shone softly, making bright shadows on the deep green moss below, where the fairest flowers waved in the cool wind, and sang in their low sweet voices how beautiful is love. Flowering vines folded their soft leaves around the trees, making green pillars of their rough trunks. Fountains threw their bright waters to the roof, and flocks of silver-winged birds flew singing among the flowers, or brooded lovingly above their nests. Flowers with gentle eyes cooed among the green leaves, snow-white clouds floated in the sunny sky, and the golden light, brighter than before, shone softly down. Soon through the long aisles came violet, flowers and green leaves rustling as she passed. On she went to the frost king's throne, bearing two crowns, one of sparkling icicles, the other of pure white lilies, and kneeling before him said, My task is done, and, thanks to the spirits of earth and air, I have made as fair a home as elven hands can form. You must now decide, will you be king of flowerland, and own my gentle kindred for your loving friends? Will you possess unfading peace and joy, and the grateful love of all the green earth's fragrant children? Then take this crown of flowers. But if you can find no pleasure here, go back to your own cold home, and dwell in solitude and darkness, where no ray of sunlight or of joy can enter. Send forth your spirits to carry sorrow and desolation over the happy earth, and win for yourself the fear and hatred of those who would so gladly love and reverence you. Then take this glittering crown, hard and cold as your own heart will be, if you will shut out all that is bright and beautiful. Both are before you, choose. The old king looked at the little fairy, and saw how lovingly the bright shadows gathered around her, as if to shield her from every harm. The timid birds nestled in her bosom, and the flowers grew fairer as she looked upon them, while her gentle friends, with tears in their bright eyes, folded their hands beseechingly and smiled on her. Kind thought came thronging to his mind, and he turned to look at the two palaces, violets so fair and beautiful with its rustling trees, calm sunny skies, and happy birds and flowers, all created by her patient love and care. His own so cold and dark and dreary, his empty gardens where no flowers could bloom, no green trees dwell, or gay birds sing, all desolate and dim. And while he gazed, his own spirits, casting off their dark mantles, knelt before him and besought him not to send them forth to blight the things the gentle fairies loved so much. We have served you long and faithfully, said they. Give us now our freedom, that we may learn to be beloved by the sweet flowers we have harmed so long. Grant the little fairies prayer, and let her go back to her own dear home. She has taught us that love is mightier than fear. Choose the flower crown, and we will be the truest subjects you have ever had. Then amid a burst of wild sweet music, the Frost King placed the flower crown on his head and knelt to little violet. While far and near, over the broad green earth, sounded the voices of flowers, singing their thanks to the gentle fairy, and the summer wind was laden with perfumes, which they sent as tokens of their gratitude. And wherever she went, old trees bent down to fold their slender branches round her. Flowers laid their soft faces against her own and whispered blessings. Then the humble moss bent over the little feet and kissed them as they passed. The old king, surrounded by the happy fairies, sat in Violet's lovely home, and watched his icy castle melt away beneath the bright sunlight, while his spirits, cold and gloomy no longer, danced with the elves, and waited on their king with loving eagerness. Brighter grew the golden light, gayer saying the birds, and the harmonious voices of grateful flowers sounding over the earth, carried new joy to all their gentle kindred. Brighter shone the golden shadows on the cool wind softly came, the low sweet tones of happy flowers singing little Violet's name. Among the green trees was it whispered, and the bright wades bore it on, to the lonely forest flowers where the glad news had not gone. Thus the frost king lost his kingdom and his power to harm and blight. Violet conquered and his cold heart warmed with music, love, and light, and his fair home, once so dreary, gay with lovely elves and flowers, brought a joy that never faded through the long bright summer hours. Thus by Violet's magic power all dark shadows passed away, and o'er the home of happy flowers the golden light forever lay. Once the fairy mission ended, and all flower land was taught, the power of love by gentle deeds that little Violet wrought. As sunny locks ceased, another little elf came forward, and this was the tale of Silver Wing told. CHAPTER II OF FLOWER FABLES This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. FLOWER FABLES by Louisa May Elcott CHAPTER II EVA'S VISIT TO FAIRY LAND Down among the grass and fragrant clover lay little Eva by the brookside, watching the bright waves as they went singing by under the drooping flowers that grew on its banks. As she was wondering where the waters went, she heard a faint low sound as of far-off music. She thought it was the wind, but not a leaf was stirring, and soon through the rippling water came a strange little boat. It was a lily of the valley whose tall stem formed the mast, while the broad leaves that rose from the roots and drooped again till they reached the water were filled with gay little elves who danced to the music of the silver lily bells above that rang a merry peal and filled the air with their fragrant breath. Then came the ferry boat till it reached a mast-grown rock, and here it stopped while the ferries rested beneath the violet leaves and sang with the dancing waves. Eva looked with wonder on their gay faces and bright garments, and in the joy of her heart sang, too, and threw crimson fruit for the little folks to feast upon. They looked kindly on the child, and after whispering long among themselves, two little bright-eyed elves flew over the shining water, and, lighting on the clover blossoms, said gently, little maiden, many thanks for your kindness, and our queen bids us ask if you will go with us to fairyland and learn what we can teach you. Gladly would I go with you, dear ferries, said Eva, but I cannot sail in your little boat. See, I can hold you in my hand, and could not live among you without harming your tiny kingdom, I am so large. Then the elves laughed gaily as they folded their arms about her, saying, You are a good child, dear Eva, to fear doing harm to those weaker than yourself. You cannot hurt us now. Look in the water and see what we have done. Eva looked into the brook and saw a tiny child standing between the elves. Now I can go with you, said she, but see, I can no longer step from the bank to yonder stone, for the brook seems now like a great river, and you have not given me wings like yours. But the ferries took each a hand and flew lightly over the stream. The queen and her subjects came to meet her, and all seemed glad to say some kindly word of welcome to the little stranger. They placed a flower crown upon her head, laid their soft faces against her own, and soon it seemed as if the gentle elves had always been her friends. Now we must go home, said the queen, and you shall go with us, little one. Then there was a great bustle as they flew about on shining wings. Some laying cushions of velvet leaves in the boat, others folding the queen's veil and mantle more closely about her, lest the falling doos should chill her. The cool waves gentle plashing against the boat, and the sweet chime of the lily-bells lulled little Eva to sleep, and when she woke it was in fairyland, a faint rosy light as of the setting sun shone on the white pillars of the queen's palace as they passed in, and the sleeping flowers leaned gracefully on their stems, dreaming beneath their soft green curtains. All was cool and still, and the elves glided silently about, lest they should break their slumbers. They led Eva to a bed of pure white leaves, above which drooped the fragrant petals of a crimson rose. You can look at the bright colors till the light fades, and then the rose will sing you to sleep, said the elves, as they folded the soft leaves about her gently kissed her and stole away. Long she lay watching the bright shadows and listening to the song of the rose, while through the long night dreams of lovely things floated like bright clouds through her mind, while the rose bent lovingly above her and sang in the clear moonlight. With the sun rose the fairies, and with Eva hastened away to the fountain, whose cool waters were soon filled with little forms and the air ringing with happy voices, as the elves floated in the blue waves among the fair white lilies, or sat on the green moss, smoothing their bright locks and wearing fresh garlands of dewy flowers. At length the queen came forth, and her subjects gathered round her, and while the flowers bowed their heads and the trees hushed their rustling, the fairies sang their mourning hymn to the father of birds and blossoms who had made the earth so fair a home for them. Then they flew away to the gardens, and soon, high up among the treetops, or under the broad leaves, sat the elves in little groups, taking their breakfast of fruit and pure fresh dew. While the bright winged birds came fearlessly among them, pecking the same ripe berries and dipping their little beaks in the same flower cups, and the fairies folded their arms lovingly about them, smoothed their soft bosoms and gaily sang to them. "'Now, little Eva,' said they, "'you will see that fairies are not idle, willful spirits as mortals believe. Come, we will show you what we do.' They led her to a lovely room, through whose walls of deep green leaves the light stole softly in. Here lay many wounded insects and harmless little creatures, whom cruel hands had hurt, and pale, drooping flowers grew beside urns of healing herbs, from whose fresh leaves came a faint, sweet perfume. Eva wondered but silently followed her guide, little rose leaf, who with tender words passed among the delicate blossoms, pouring dew on their feeble roots, cheering them with her loving words and happy smile. Then she went to the insects, first to a little fly who lay in a flower-leaf cradle. "'Do you suffer much, dear gauzy wing?' asked the fairy. "'You'll bind up your poor little leg, and Zephyr shall rock you to sleep.' So she folded the cool leaves tenderly about the poor fly, bathed his wings, and brought him refreshing drink, while he hummed his thanks and forgot his pain, as Zephyr softly sung and fanned him with her waving wings. They passed on, and Eva saw beside each bed of fairy, who with gentle hands and loving words soothed the suffering insects. At length they stopped beside a bee, who lay among sweet honeysuckle flowers in a cool still place, where the summer wind blew in, and the green leaves rustled pleasantly. Yet he seemed to find no rest, and murmured of the pain he was doomed to bear. "'Why must I lie here, while my kindred are out in the pleasant fields, enjoying the sunlight and the fresh air, and cruel hands have doomed me to this dark place in bitter pain when I have done no wrong, uncared for and forgotten, I must stay here among these poor things who think only of themselves. Come here, rose leaf, and bind up my wounds, for I am far more useful than idle bird or fly.' Then said the fairy, while she bathed the broken wing, "'Love, blossom, you should not murmur. We may find happiness in seeking to be patient, even while we suffer. You are not forgotten or uncared for, but others need our care more than you, and to those who take cheerfully the pain and sorrow sent, we do most gladly give our help. You need not be idle, even though lying here in darkness and sorrow. You can be taking from your heart all sad and discontented feelings, and if love and patience blossom there, you will be better for the lonely hours spent here. Look on the bed beside you. This little dove has suffered far greater pain than you, and all our care can never ease it. Yet through the long days he hath lain here, and not an unkind word or a repining sigh hath he uttered, "'Ah, love, blossom, the gentle bird can teach a lesson you will be wiser and better for.' Then a faint voice whispered, "'Little Roseleaf, come quickly, or I cannot thank you as I ought for all your loving care of me.' So they passed to the bed beside the discontented bee, and here upon the softest down lay the dove, whose gentle eyes looked gratefully upon the fairy, as she knelt beside the little couch, smoothed the soft white bosom, folded her arms about it and wept sorrowing tears, while the bird still whispered its gratitude and love. "'Dear fairy, the fairest flowers have cheered me with their sweet breath. Fresh dew and fragrant leaves have been ever ready for me. Gentle hands to tend, kindly hearts to love, and for this I can only thank you and say farewell.' Then the quivering wings were still, and the patient little dove was dead, but the bean murmured no longer, and the dew from the flowers fell like tears around the quiet bed. Sadly Roseleaf led Eva away, saying, "'Lily bosom shall have a grave tonight beneath our fairest blossoms, and you shall see that gentleness and love are prized far above gold or beauty here in fairy land. Come now to the flower palace and see the fairy court.' Beneath green arches bright with birds and flowers, beside singing waves went Eva into a lofty hall. The roof of pure white lilies rested on pillars of green clustering vines, while many colored blossoms threw their bright shadows on the walls as they danced below in the deep green moss, and their lowest sweet voices sounded softly through the sunlit palace while the rustling leaves kept time. Beside the throne stood Eva and watched the lovely forms around her as they stood each little band in its own color with glistening wings and flower wands. Suddenly the music grew louder and sweeter and the fairies knelt and bowed their heads as on through the crowd of loving subjects came the queen, while the air was filled with gay voices singing to welcome her. She placed the child beside her, saying, "'Little Eva, you shall see now how the flowers on your great earth bloom so brightly.' A band of loving little gardeners go daily forth from fairyland to tend and watch them that no harm may befall the gentle spirits that dwell beneath their leaves. This is never known, for like all good it is unseen by mortal eyes, and unto only pure hearts like yours do we make known our secret. The humblest flower that grows is visited by our messengers, and often blooms in fragrant beauty unknown, unloved by all save fairy friends, who seek to fill the spirits with all sweet and gentle virtues that they may not be useless on the earth, for the noblest mortals stoop to learn of flowers. Now, Eglantine, what have you to tell us of your rosy namesakes on the earth? From a group of elves whose rose-free swans showed the flower they love came one bearing a tiny urn and answering the queen, she said, over hill and valley they are blooming fresh and fair, as summer sun and dew can make them. No drooping stem or withered leaf tells of any evil thought within their fragrant bosoms, and thus from the fairest of their race have they gathered this sweet dew, as a token of their gratitude to one whose tenderness and care have kept them pure and happy. And this, the loveliest of their sisters, have I brought to place among the fairy flowers that never pass away. Eglantine laid the urn before the queen, and placed the fragrant rose on the dewy moss beside the throne, while a murmur of approval went through the hall, as each elfin wand waved to the little fairy who had toiled so well and faithfully, and could bring so fair a gift to their good queen. Then came forth an elf bearing a withered leaf, while her many colored robe and the purple tulips in her hair told her name and charge. Dear queen, she sadly said, I would gladly bring as pleasant tidings as my sister, but alas, my flowers are proud and willful, and when I went to gather my little gift of colored leaves for royal garments, they bade me bring this withered blossom, and tell you they could serve no longer one who will not make them queen over all the other flowers. They would yield neither dew nor honey, but proudly closed their leaves and bid me go. Your task has been too hard for you, said the queen kindly, as she placed the drooping flower in the urn Eglantine had given. You will see how this dew from a sweet pure heart will give new life and loveliness even to this poor fated one. So can you, dear rainbow, by loving words and gentle teachings, bring back lost purity and peace to those whom pride and selfishness have blighted. Go once again to the proud flowers, and tell them when they are queen of their own hearts, they will ask no fairer kingdom. Much more tenderly than ever over them, see that they lack neither dew nor air, speak lovingly to them, and let no unkind word or deed of theirs anger you. Let them see by your patient love and care how much fairer they might be, and when next you come you will be laden with gifts from humble loving flowers. Thus they told what they had done, and received from their queen some gentle chiding or loving word of praise. You will be weary of this, said little rose-leaf to Eva. Come now and see where we are taught to read the tales written on flower-leaves and the sweet language of the birds, and all that can make a fairy heart wiser and better. Then into a cheerful place they went, where there were many groups of flowers among whose leaves sat the child elves, and learned from their flower-books all that fairy hands had written there. Some studied how to watch the tender buds, when to spread them to the sunlight, and when to shelter them from rain, how to guard the ripening seeds, and when to lay them in the warm earth or send them on the summer wind to far off hills and valleys, where other fairy hands would tend and cherish them, till a sisterhood of happy flowers sprang up to beautify and gladden the lonely spot where they had fallen. Others learned to heal the wounded insects whose frail limbs a breeze could shatter, and who, were it not for fairy hands, could die ere half their happy summer life had gone. Some learned how by pleasant dreams to cheer and comfort mortal hearts, by whispered words of love to save from evil deeds, those who had gone astray, to fill young hearts with gentle thoughts and pure affections that no sin might mar the beauty of the human flower, while others, like mortal children, learned the fairy alphabet. Thus the elves made loving friends by care and love, and no evil thing could harm them, for those they helped to cherish and protect, ever watched to shield and save them. Eva nodded to the gay little ones as they peeped from among the leaves at the stranger, and then she listened to the fairy lessons. Several tiny elves stood on a broad leaf while the teacher sat among the petals of a flower that penned beside them, and asked questions that none but fairies would care to know. Twinkle, if there lay nine seeds within a flower cup and the wind bore five away, how many would the blossom have? Four, replied the little one. Rosebud, if a cow slip opens three leaves in one day and four the next, how many rosy leaves will there be when the whole flower has bloomed? Seven, sang the gay little elf. Hair-bell, if a silkworm spin one yard of fairy cloth in an hour, how many will it spin in a day? Twelve, said the fairy child. Primrose, where lies Violet Island? In the lake of ripples. Lilla, you may bound Roseland. On the north by Ferndale, south by Sunnywave River, east by the hill of morning clouds, and west by the evening star. Now little ones, said the teacher, you may go to your painting that our visitor may see how we repair the flowers that earthly hands have injured. Then Eva saw how, on large white leaves, the fairies learned to imitate the lovely colors and with tiny brushes to brighten the blush on the anemones cheek, to deepen the blue of the Violet's eye and add new light to the golden cow slip. You have stayed long enough, said the elves at length. We have many things to show you. Come now and see what is our dearest work. So Eva said farewell to the child elves and hastened with little rose leaf to the gates. Here she saw many bands of fairies, folded in dark mantles that mortals might not know them, who, with the child among them, flew away over hill and valley. Some went to the cottages amid the hills, some to the seaside to watch above the humble fisher folks, but little rose leaf and many others went into the noisy city. Eva wondered within herself what good the tiny elves could do in this great place. But she soon learned, for the fairy band went among the poor and friendless, bringing pleasant dreams to the sick and old, sweet tender thoughts of love and gentleness to the young, strength to the weak, and patient cheerfulness to the poor and lonely. Then the child wondered no longer, but deeper grew her love for the tender-hearted elves, who left their happy home to cheer and comfort those who never knew what hands had clothed and fed them, what hearts had given of their own joy, and brought such happiness to theirs. Long they stayed and many a lesson little Eva learned. But when she begged them to go back, they still led her on saying, Our work is not yet done, shall we leave so many sad hearts when we may cheer them, so many dark homes that we may brighten, we must stay yet longer, little Eva, and you may learn yet more. Then they went into a dark and lonely room, and here they found a pale, sad-eyed child who wept bitter tears over a faded flower. Ah, sighed the little one, it was my only friend, and I cherished it with all my lone heart's love, which was all that made my sad life happy, and it is gone. Tenderly the child fastened to the drooping stem, and placed it where the one faint ray of sunlight stole into the dreary room. Do you see, said the elves, through this simple flower will we keep the child pure and stainless amid the sin and sorrow around her. The love of this shall lead her on through temptation and through grief, and she shall be a spirit of joy and consolation to the sinful and the sorrowing. And with busy love toiled the elves amid the withered leaves, and new strength was given to the flower, while as day by day the friendless child watered the growing buds, deeper grew her love for the unseen friends who had given her one thing to cherish in her lonely home. Sweet gentle thoughts filled her heart as she bent above it, and the blossoms' fragrant breath was to her a whispered voice of all fear and lovely things. And as the flower taught her, so she taught others. The loving elves brought her sweet dreams by night and happy thoughts by day, and as she grew in childlike beauty, pure and patient amid poverty and sorrow, the sinful were rebuked, sorrowing hearts grew light, and the weak and selfish forgot their idle fears when they saw her trustingly live on with none to aid or comfort her. The love she bore the tender flower kept her own heart innocent and bright, and the pure human flower was a lesson to those who looked upon it, and soon the gloomy house was bright with happy hearts that learned of the gentle child to bear poverty and grief as she had done to forgive those who brought care and wrong to them, and to seek for happiness and humble deeds of charity and love. Our work is done, whispered the elves, and with blessings on the two bare flowers they flew away to other homes, to a blind old man who dwelt alone with none to love him, until through long years of darkness and of silent sorrow the heart within had grown dim and cold. No sunlight could enter at the darkened eyes, and none were near to whisper gentle words to cheer and comfort. Thus he dwelt forgotten and alone, seeking to give no joy to others possessing none himself. Life was dark and sad till the untiring elves came to his dreary home, bringing sunlight and love. They whispered sweet words of comfort. How if the darkened eyes could find no light without, within there might be never-failing happiness. Gentle feelings and sweet-loving thoughts could make the heart fair if the gloomy, selfish sorrow were but cast away, and all would be bright and beautiful. They brought light-hearted children who gathered round him, making the desolate home fair with their young faces, and his sad heart gay with their sweet childish voices. The love they bore he could not cast away, sunlight stole in, the dark thoughts passed away, and the earth was a pleasant home to him. Thus their little hands led him back to peace and happiness, flowers bloomed beside his door, and their fragrant breath brought happy thoughts of pleasant valleys and green hills. Birds sang to him, and their sweet voices woke the music in his own soul that never failed to calm and comfort. Happy sounds were heard in his once lonely home, and bright faces gathered round his knee, and listened tenderly while he stroked to tell them all the good that gentleness and love had done for him. Still the elves watched near, and brighter grew the heart as kindly thoughts and tender feelings entered in, and made it their home, and when the old man fell asleep, above his grave little feet trod lightly, and loving hands laid fragrant flowers. Then went the elves into the dreary prison-houses, where sad hearts pined in lonely sorrow for the joy and freedom they had lost. To those came the loving band with tender words, telling of the peace they yet might win by patience driving and repentant tears, thus waking in their bosoms all the holy feelings and sweet affections that had slept so long. They told pleasant tales, and sang their sweetest songs to cheer and gladden, while the dim cells grew bright with the sunlight and fragrant with the flowers the loving elves had brought, and by their gentle teachings those sad, despairing hearts were filled with patient hope and earnest longing to win back their lost innocence and joy. Thus to all who needed help or comfort went the faithful fairies, and when at length they turned towards fairyland many were the grateful, happy hearts they left behind. Then through the summer sky above the blossoming earth they journeyed home, happier for the joy they had given, wiser for the good they had done. All fairyland was dressed in flowers, and the soft wind singing by laden with their fragrant breath. Sweet music sounded through the air, and troops of elves in their gayest robes hastened to the palace where the feast was spread. Soon the bright hall was filled with smiling faces and fair forms, and little Eva, as she stood beside the queen, thought she had never seen a sight so lovely. The many-colored shadows of the fairest flowers played on the pure white walls, and fountains sparkled in the sunlight, making music as the cool waves rose and fell, while too in fro with waving wings and joyous voices, went the smiling elves, bearing fruit and honey or fragrant garlands for each other's hair. Long they feasted, gaily they sang, and Eva, dancing merely among them, longed to be an elf that she might dwell forever in so fair a home. At length the music ceased, and the queen said, as she laid her hand on little Eva's shining hair, Dear child, tomorrow we must bear you home, for, much as we long to keep you, it were wrong to bring such sorrow to your loving earthly friends. Therefore we will guide you to the brookside, and there say farewell, till you come again to visit us. Nay, do not weep, dear Roseleaf. You shall watch over little Eva's flowers, and when she looks at them she will think of you. Come now and lead her to the fairy garden, and show her what we think our fairest sight. Weep no more, but strive to make her last hours with us happy as you can. With gentle caresses and most tender words, the loving elves gathered about the child, and, with Roseleaf by her side, they led her through the palace and along green winding paths, till Eva saw what seemed a wall of flowers rising before her, while the air was filled with the most fragrant odors, and the low, sweet music as of singing blossoms. Where have you brought me, and what mean these lovely sounds, asked Eva? Look here, and you shall see, said Roseleaf, as she bent aside the vines, but listen silently, or you cannot hear. Then Eva, looking through the drooping vines, beheld a garden filled with the loveliest flowers. Fair as were all the blossoms she had seen in fairy land, none were so beautiful as these. The rose glowed with a deeper crimson, the lily's soft leaves were more purely white. The crocus and humble cow slip shone like sunlight, and the violet was blue as the sky that smiled above it. How beautiful they are, whispered Eva, but dear Roseleaf, why do you keep them here, and why do you call this your fairest sight? Look again, and I will tell you, answered the fairy. Eva looked and saw from every flower a tiny form come forth to welcome the elves, who all, save Roseleaf, had flown above the wall, and were now scattering dew upon the flower's bright leaves, and talking gaily with the spirits, who gathered round them, and seemed full of joy that they had come. The child saw that each one wore the colors of the flower that was its home. Delicate and graceful were the little forms, bright the silken hair that fell about each lovely face, and Eva heard the low, sweet murmur of their silvery voices and the rustle of their wings. She gazed in silent wonder, forgetting she knew not who they were, till the fairy said, These are the spirits of the flowers, and this the fairy home, where those whose hearts are pure and loving on the earth come to bloom in fadeless beauty here, when their earthly life is past. The humblest flower that blooms has a home with us, for outward beauty is a worthless thing, if I'll be not fair and sweet within. Do you see yonder lovely spirit singing with my sister Moonlight? A clover blossom was her home, and she dwelt unknown, unloved, yet patient and content, bearing cheerfully the sorrow's center. We watched and saw how fair and sweet the humble flower grew, and then gladly bore her here to blossom with the lily and the rose. The flower's lives are often short, for cruel hands destroy them. Therefore it is our greatest joy to bring them hither, where no careless foot nor wintry wind can harm them, where they bloom in quiet beauty, repaying our care by their love and sweetest perfumes. I will never break another flower, cried Eva, but let me go to them, dear fairy. I would gladly know the lovely spirits and ask forgiveness for the sorrow I have caused. May I not go in? Nay, dear Eva, you are a mortal child and cannot enter here, but I will tell them of the kind little maiden who has learned to love them, and they will remember you when you are gone. Come now, for you have seen enough, and we must be away. On a rosy morning cloud, surrounded by the loving elves, went Eva through the sunny sky. The fresh wind bore them gently on, and soon they stood again by the brook, whose waves danced brightly as if to welcome them. Now ere we say farewell, said the queen, as they gathered nearer to the child, tell me, dear Eva, what among all our fairy gifts will make you happiest, and it shall be yours. You good little fairies, said Eva, folding them in her arms, for she was no longer the tiny child she had been in fairyland. You, dear good little elves, what can I ask of you, who have done so much to make me happy, and taught me so many good and gentle lessons, the memory of which will never pass away? I can only ask of you the power to be as pure and gentle as yourselves, as tender and loving to the weak and sorrowing as I'm tiring and kindly deeds to all. Grant me this gift, and you shall see that little Eva has not forgotten what you have taught her. The power shall be yours, said the elves, and laid their soft hands on her head. We will watch over you in dreams, and when you would have tidings of us, ask the flowers in your garden, and they will tell you all you would know. Farewell. Remember fairyland and all your loving friends. They clung about her tenderly, and little rose leaf placed a flower crown on her head, whispering softly, when you would come to us again, stand by the brookside and wave this in the air, and we will gladly take you to our home again. Farewell, dear Eva. Think of your little rose leaf when among the flowers. Long Eva watched their shining wings, and listened to the music of their voices as they flew singing home, and when it lengthed the last little form had vanished among the clouds, she saw that all around her where the elves had been, the fairest flowers had sprung up, and the lonely brookside was a blooming garden. Thus she stood among the waving blossoms, with the fairy garland in her hair, and happy feelings in her heart, better and wiser for her visit to fairyland. Now, star twinkle, what have you to teach, asked the queen. Nothing but a little song I heard the hair-bell singing, replied the fairy, and taking her harp, saying in a low-sweet voice. There grew a fragrant rose-tree where the brook flows, with two little tender buds and one full rose. When the sun went down to his bed in the west, the little buds leaned on the rose-mother's breast, while the bright-eyed stars their long watch kept, and the flowers of the valley in their green cradles slept. Then silently, in odours, they communed with each other. The two little buds on the bosom of their mother. Oh, sister, said the little one as she gazed at the sky. I wish that the dew-elves, as they wander lightly by, would bring me a star, for they never grow dim, and the father does not need them to burn round him. The shining drops of dew the elves bring each day, and place in my bosom so soon pass away. But a star would glitter brightly through the long summer hours, and I should be fairer than all my sister flowers. That were better far than the dew-drops that fall on the high and the low, and come alike to all. I would be fair and stately, with a bright star to shine, and give a queenly air to this crimson robe of mine. And proudly, she cried, these fireflies shall be my jewels, since the stars can never come to me. Just then a tiny dew-drop that hung o'er the dell, on the breast of the bud, like a soft star, fell. But impatiently she flung it away from her leaf, and it fell on her mother like a tear of grief. While she folded to her breast with willful pride, a glittering firefly that hung by her side. Heed, said the mother rose, daughter mine, why shouldst thou seek for beauty not thine? The father hath made thee what thou now art, and what he most loveth is a sweet, pure heart. Then why dost thou take with such discontent the loving gift which he to thee hath sent? For the cool fresh dew will render thee far more lovely and sweet than the brightest star. They were made for heaven and can never come to shine, like the firefly thou hast in that foolish breast of thine. O my foolish little bud, do listen to thy mother, care only for true beauty, and seek for no other. There will be grief and trouble in that willful little heart. Unfold thy leaves, my daughter, and let the fly depart. But the proud little bud would have her own will, and folded the firefly more closely still, till the struggling insect tore open the vest of purple and green that covered her breast. When the sun came up she saw with grief the blooming of her sister bud leaf by leaf, while she, once as fair and bright as the rest, hung her weary head down on her wounded breast. Bright grew the sunshine, and the soft summer air was filled with the music of flower singing there. But faint grew the little bud with thirst and pain, and longed for the cool dew, but now twas in vain. Then bitterly she wept for her folly and pride, as drooping she stood by her fair sister's side. Then the rose-mother leaned the weary little head on her bosom to rest, and tenderly she said, Thou hast learned, my little bud, that whatever may be tied, thou canst win thyself no joy by passion or by pride. The loving father sends the sunshine and the shower. That thou mayst become a perfect little flower. The sweet dews to feed thee, the soft wind to cheer, and the earth as a pleasant home while thou art dwelling here. Then shouldst thou not be grateful for all this kindly care, and strive to keep thyself most innocent and fair. Then seek my little blossom to win humility. Be fair without, be pure within, and thou wilt happy be. So when the quiet autumn of thy fragrant life shall come, thou mayst pass away to bloom in the flower spirit's home. Then from the mother's breast where it still lay hid, into the fading bud the dew drop gently slid. Stronger grew the little form, and happy tears fell, as the dew did its silent work, and the bud grew well, while the gentle rose leaned, with motherly pride, or the fair little ones that bloomed at her side. Night came again, and the fireflies flew, but the bud let them pass and drank of the dew. While the soft stars shone from the still summer heaven, on the happy little flower that had learned the lesson given. The music-loving elves clapped their hands as star-twinkle ceased, and the queen placed a flower crown with a gentle smile upon the fairy's head, saying, The little bud's lesson shall teach us how sad a thing is pride, and that humility alone can bring true happiness to flower and fairy. You shall come next, Zephyr, and the little fairy, who lay rocking to and fro upon a fluttering vine-leaf, thus began her story. As I lay resting in the bosom of a cow-slip that bent above the brook, a little wind, tired of play, told me this tale of... END OF THE FLOWERS' LESSEN