There was a Meadow Brown flying near the hedge; she would inquire of him.

'He had never heard of a glass house,' he said; 'did not know what it meant; except, indeed, the glass case which the fairy made for Prince Boohoo, when he cried because he could not have strawberries all the year round, and screwed him down under it over the strawberry bed for a year, but that was a long, long way off. And as to a wall; well, there were several walls in the neighbourhood, though none very near; and which did her ladyship want? And as to the large tree, there was one out there,' said he, pointing to the west, and another out there, about a mile off,' pointing to the south, ‘and quite a number of large trees in the opposite direction,' pointing to the north. Then he bowed, said 'he was very sorry he could not stay to help her; but he was field postman on duty that day, and he must be off immediately, as he had many letters to deliver before sunset.'

Poor Amy felt ready to cry, but she determined to be brave, and a new idea coming into her head at that moment, helped her to keep her resolution. She remembered that, when she left the wall, the sun was in her back, so she thought, 'If I keep the sun in my face now, I must come to the glass house at last.' She forgot the queer gyrations she had made when escaping from her pursuer.

Confident in this new thought, she set off again

straight towards the west with renewed vigour. She flew on for some time, passing over two or three hedges, till at last she saw not far from her a large tree; her heart jumped into her mouth. 'What if the blackbird should be there on the look-out for her?' She would fly cautiously; she would take a circuit round the tree, and so contrive to get the hot-house and the wall between her and it. Flying over the next hedge, she found herself in a high-road. Again she hesitated, there was no road near the tree she was in search of. Perhaps there was, only in her fright she had not observed it. Another hedge, and then another field; she was very near the tree now; only one more hedge, and there indeed was a large tree, but instead of a wall, it was standing by the side of a beautiful river.

And now Amy's courage fairly gave way; she sunk down upon the grass, and burst into tears. And oh! how those tears oppressed her. She could not weep them out; they were in her heart, and obliged to stay there, and her heart got fuller and fuller, and heavier and heavier, till it seemed as though her poor little fragile body would burst with her grief.

'Oh, the cruel fairy! the cruel fairy! why did she turn me into a butterfly? What is the use of these hateful wings? Nothing but trouble befalls me! What shall I do? Oh! what shall I do?'

Then angry thoughts came into her mind; 'Why

had she done the fairy a kindness? She would never do any kind act again. Why should everything chase her? Why was no one kind to her? She would fly into the river and drown herself, and then she hoped the Queen of the Fairies would hear about it, and would punish the cruel fairy. She only wished she knew her name, and then she would wait for Zephyr, and send a message by him to Fairy-land, and ask the Queen to punish her.' And as all these angry impatient thoughts passed through her mind, her heart grew still heavier and heavier, and her head sunk lower in the grass.

If she had not been too sorrowful to look up, she would have seen that she was not alone. Sweet little Zephyr was floating towards her, teaching all the field clocks to fly upwards as they told the hour of four. When he saw her lying there so sadly on the grass his gentle little heart pitied her, and he stopped a moment to see if perchance he could comfort her. He encircled her soothingly in his arms, kissed her lovingly, smoothed down softly the ruffled feathers of her wings, and gently whispered, 'Fly upwards, little one, like the feather down, and joys will grow again.' He passed on to finish his work, and Amy, looking up quickly, just caught his bright sunny smile before he disappeared, and more loving, hopeful thoughts came into her mind. As she gazed upwards she fancied she saw a sylph-like figure sliding down a

golden sunbeam, and from afar came the same lovely voice she had heard in the garden, singing

'But even with the butterflies

It is not always play;

So call me when real troubles come,
My name is Lily Fay.'

'Real troubles have come to me now, Lily Fay, and, indeed, you ought to come and help me out of them, for it was your fault. If you had given me time to think, I should not have wished to be such a helpless thing as a butterfly.'

These were rather impatient words, and as she spoke them the slight breeze passed away with a melancholy wail among the trees, a cloud obscured the sun, and Amy felt a rain-drop fall upon her. Perhaps it was Zephyr weeping because he could not persuade her to be patient and gentle.

But now a sight met Amy's eyes that quite chased away for the time all thoughts of herself, and dispelled all her heavy-heartedness. Looking towards the river, she saw, seated on a green leaf, the loveliest little maiden she ever beheld. She was only an inch high, and exquisitely formed. She was alone, and singing to herself in the softest, most melodious voice. 'Oh! what a lovely little creature!' said Amy, and she flew towards her. She flew round the leaf several times before she ventured nearer; but at last, encouraged by the sweet looks and bright smile of the little maiden, she settled upon it.