fly away, she transformed them into blossoms. Poor little, idle, foolish creatures! This was their sad fate. "The sprite of industry must dwell in this new child of mine," said the goddess, "for are not bees renowned for their industry?" She little knew that the three she had captured had been renowned for their idleness. And this was the origin of the Bee Flower, or Orchis, as it was afterwards called; and from the industrious habits of the little sprites who dwelt therein it was ever a favourite with the real bees who loved to linger near its bright insect-seeming flowers.

The princess started up from her slumbers, and gazed around in astonishment. "Have I been dreaming?" thought she, as her eyes fell on the orchises, and she listened to the humming of the bees. "Oh, I must run and tell mama all about it." And away she went, and running into the queen's chamber, told her how she had fallen asleep among the flowers, and of her strange dream. "And oh, mama, I feel so different," she exclaimed; "I am sure I shall never be idle again!"

"Ah! how happy that would make me," replied her mother, kissing her fondly. "Try and keep to your resolution, my child."

From that day the little princess was never again idle, but, greatly to her parents' delight, she was now as pleased as she had formerly been unwilling to learn; and so, instead of leading the gay thoughtless life of a butterfly, she became more like a busy bee, gathering stores of learning, and grew up universally beloved and respected by young and old, rich and poor.

And the Rose? For a short time the goddess Flora's rebuke checked her pride and vanity, and she was dejected and humbled; but the cunning flattery of some of her subjects, and the admiration of mortals, soon raised her up again to her former pinnacle of pride and self-esteem, and I am afraid she is now too old to learn the lesson of meekness and humility, or that outward appearances are not alone to be considered.

N the middle of one of those large forests which abound on the borders of Fairyland, there lived a woodcutter and his wife, who were very

poor indeed in this world's goods.

The woman had been much better off before her marriage, and had rich relations somewhere or other, but they all cast her off when she married the poor woodcutter, and would have nothing to say to her in her poverty. So now she was obliged to live in a miserable little cottage in a dreary wood, and to feed on black bread and potatoes, instead of the nice things to which she had been accustomed in former days. So time went on, and every day the poor woman became more and more discontented and unhappy. Her husband never having been accustomed to any more agreeable kind of life, and having his work to

occupy him, got through his time very well; he certainly would have been better pleased had his wife been more cheerful and contented, but being very good-natured and good-tempered himself, he tried to make the best of things, and only shrugged his shoulders when she began to whine and cry about the cruelty of her rich relations.

Poor as they had been, there came a time when they were poorer still, for a very severe winter set in, and even black bread became a luxury to the woodcutter and his wife. In the midst of all this distress, a little daughter was born, and now the poor mother was twice as unhappy as before.

"How will it be possible to find food for this third mouth, when even two are so difficult to fill?"

This was her constant cry, but her husband would reply "Never trouble about the tiny mouth; time enough for that; only be quiet and be thankful, and all will be well."

But good advice is often easier to give than to follow, and however sensibly the woodcutter might talk, his words did not serve to fatten his

wife, who between fretting and scant of food wasted away until there was hardly any flesh left on her bones. Meanwhile the baby throve wonderfully-she grew so fat and pretty, and was such a merry little thing, always crowing and laughing, it quite rejoiced the father to hear such pleasant sounds in the formerly cheerless cottage on his return home from work. But the mother's heart remained as heavy as before, and her constant cry was "O that my child had never been born! Now there's another to starve!"

One day as she was sitting down among the trees, faint and weary from a long unsuccessful walk in search of food, moaning thus, the light gradually became rosy as at sunset, and looking up she saw standing before her a figure that seemed to be made of smiles and happiness, the sight of it seemed to drive all her cares away, and for the first time for many years she felt almost cheerful and happy. Good-nature, for it was that charming fairy who had appeared, spoke to her kindly of her cares and troubles, and taking the child in her arms, tossed, and danced it about, smiling at it all the time, until the child was nearly beside itself with delight.