pain, and as they were good and obedient children, they always paid attention to what she said, for they knew she would be grieved if they forgot her precepts.

But it was the birds and the flowers and the tall trees that had the greatest charm for them, and the rippling of a brook that flowed through their garden. They were never tired of listening to the sweet sounds that Nature seemed to take pleasure in lavishing round their abode. Their little hearts were filled with wonder when they looked on the beauty of the flowers: the lovely rose, the stately lily, the modest violet, and the pure and delicate lily of the valley, so sweetly sheltered among its broad green leaves from the bleak wind and the fury of the blast, waving gently to and fro, however, when any of the frolicsome zephyrs came to play at hide and seek among its fairy palaces. Muriel used to call it the fairies' bell; and she would sometimes declare she fancied she could see the tiny creatures tripping in and out of her favourite flower. Her father would laugh at her, and say he thought she must have come from fairy-land; and she more frequently answered to the name of Fairy' than to that of Muriel; but her mother called her 'Sunbeam,' for she declared that nothing looked so bright to her when her little girl was not by.

Nought appeared to be afraid of the two children the very birds would let them peep into their nests, and would look at them with their bright black eyes as though they would say, 'Ah! we know you will not steal our little ones;' and the children used to scatter bread-crumbs under the trees in which they knew they were brooding, that they might not have to go far in search of food.

You must not, however, suppose they were without their troubles; they were grieved to the very heart when they saw the spider spread his enormous web from bush to bush to catch the poor innocent flies, and they never failed to destroy it whenever they could; in vain their father told them that it was the spider's pantry, in which he was laying up provisions for a rainy day; they would run off and fetch more crumbs for the spiders to feed upon, and they would scatter them. under the webs, but they continued to liberate the flies whenever they could.

But, alas! a greater sorrow was in store for them Guy was to go to school, to leave the flowers and the trees, to quit his beloved home and Muriel,—yes, Muriel; she must remain behind, remain without the companion from whom she had never yet been separated for a single day. What should she do without him? She knew not; she

could not bear to think of it; but when told that it was necessary for her brother's future benefit, she tried to dry her eyes and to feel reconciled to her loss; but when the day came for her to bid adieu to the playmate of her childhood, the large tears rolled down her cheeks, and she was fain to hide her face in her mother's bosom, that the sobs which choked her might not reach the ears of her brother, who was scarcely less affected than herself. But Guy was an unselfish boy, and he had been thinking all day long what he could invent. for her to feel her sorrow less keenly. He knew that if she were fully occupied, she would be more cheerful; but he was afraid she would not take the same pleasure in watching the flowers, and in listening to the birds as she had done when they were together; so he came to the conclusion that it would be advisable to find out some fixed occupation for her; and just before he left her, he said he had a great favour to ask her, and that was to write a fairy tale for him. Muriel opened her large grey eyes, and in spite of her sadness, a smile flitted across her sweet face as she looked at him with astonishment; but he persisted in his request. 'Write me a fairy tale,' said he: 'I have found a title; let it be "Sunbeam."'

'I fear you are asking more than Muriel will be able to perform,' said their mother, who, though

she perfectly understood the kind and considerate motive of Guy, was unwilling that her little girl should undertake any thing that might prove a task too great for her strength; 'but if my child tries to be cheerful, and to go about her usual occupations steadily and unrepiningly, I will see what I can do with the fairy tale; I will relate it, and she shall write you what she remembers of it every day.'

This arrangement pleased both the children mightily. A fairy tale! a fairy tale of their mother's composition! could any thing be more delightful? Guy left in comparative good spirits, and that very evening Muriel's mamma began the story of Sunbeam.

N

CHAPTER II.

THE FAIRY'S WISH.

JOW Sunbeam came from a land a long

way off; a land where there is no grief,

no sickness, no night; a land where the Great Geni of genii watches with peculiar tenderness over all the beings that inhabit it, and on which he lavishes such treasures of beauty, and such varieties of pleasures, that you would think his children there could never feel a wish for aught beyond their pure and happy home.

Curiosity entered the garden of Eden, and curiosity entered the beautiful land wherein dwelt Sunbeam, with many brothers and sisters as lovely as herself. With some of them it was merely inquisitiveness, a desire to know simply for the sake of knowing; but with others, and Sunbeam was others,—and among the number,-with the curiosity was mingled the desire to do good. A report had reached that distant and happy land, that there existed a