The Brocken's devil was, as may easily be imagined, deeply enraged at the flight of the charming princess. He knew right well that such pure springlets were no prey for him; and that the demon, Pride, his surest means of catching young souls, had been cast out of her. What should he do to recapture the wayward child? The Storm-wind and the princess' fear of him, occurring to him; he immediately summoned the North-wind, and bade him roar through the valley, directly in the face of bright little Ilse. This, he thought, will make her turn and rush back to the Brocken.

The North-wind strove his utmost to accomplish the devil's behests. Whizzing, creaking, howling, roaring, he put forth all his strength, shook the trees till they trembled to their roots, and dashed their shattered branches angrily to the earth, directly before little Ilse's feet. A young pine especially, which had not yet attained a firm foot-hold on the steep mountain side, he hurled directly across her path; and then seizing her loosened veil, endeavour' ed to drag her along with him. The little princess, however, bravely tore herself from him, caring little how much of her veil was left in the North-wind's hands. In fact, she thought but little of herself, and feared nothing on her own account; her heart was so full of misery for her much loved trees; and had she been able, she would willingly have aided them in their combat with the storm. Sorrowfully she approached the fallen pine-threw herself upon him, bathed him with her tears, and tenderly washed his wounds. The green and tender beech saplings, and

the oak branches, which the Northwind threw upon her bosom, she would cradle gently in her soft arms, would kiss their withered leaves, and would carry them on, till finding a spot on her banks, cushioned with growing moss, she would lay them gently down.

But the devil, standing all the while on the Brocken's pinnacle, gnashed his teeth furiously, when he saw how vain were the Northwind's efforts against little Ilse. "I will send Winter now," he mutered, "and he shall gag and load her with fetters. Desolate and hoary Winter, with his hunger and cold; with his long, dark nights, wherein temptation is rife, and sin glides along his secret course; has captured many an unlucky soul for me, and will easily overcome this lank water princess. Thou North-wind, bestir thyself; shake the leaves from the trees, and prepare the way for Winter. Thou knowest he never comes, till his heavy steps can rustle through the dead and dry foliage."

And the North-wind, like an obedient vassal, blew with redoubled violence and with icy coldnes through the valley. The beech trees, trembling and almost frozen, made no resistance, but frightened, let their leaves fall to the ground The oaks, at first resisted, but soon had their leaves tinged blood-red by the cold, and were, at last, completely stripped, and, with naked boughs, awaited with dread, the coming Winter. The pine tree only remained unmoved, and wore unchanged his royal oak-green mantle. Little Ilse, at his feet, could not understand the meaning of all this, and quite annoyed, called out to the trees: "Ye mad trees! what

admitting his impotence, and the impossibility of capturing the sparkling Ilse, he sat growling in his

snow.

The following day, as little Ilse was bounding gaily forward in the pride of victory, driving furiously onwards the icicles, she had broken from the stones; the mosses on her banks, called out to her: "Ilse, dearest Ilse, help us. The snow presses so heavily on our soft little heads, we cannot stand erect upon our tender stalks. Help us, dear Ilse, do! Winter is so severe upon us. And the princess stooped compassionately to them, and lifting carefully a corner of the heavy snow coverlet, put her sweet little face under and whispered to them the lesson taught her by the pine. "Fear not, ye little mosses; as your foundation is on the Rockas God gives you strength to remain green despite of the cold snow, so ye must not forget that ye have a God-given life within you, and ye must struggle to remain firm, to be always upright and to grow in strength and stature, even under your coverlet of snow; and God will be with you, if ye only ask Him." And the mosses immediately began to exert themselves, and soon thawed and warmed by their work, called joyfully to the little princess-"Ilse, Ilse, thou wert right; we are already more erect, and begin to grow. The soft snow yields readily to our green little hands."

Thus, little Ilse, taught her playmates the mosses and the grasses-by the use and exercise of their strength, to withstand Winter. She bedewed the little grasses with her fresh running waters, inspiring them to grow and to stretch themselves so as to be the first to greet Spring, when he, at last returned to the valley, rolled back from the earth, the heavy mantle, and forced Win

ter to retreat to the Brocken heights, soon to be driven even thence by the warm sun. The pine threw off his white robe, and in celebration of Spring's return, stuck bright green lights on the ends of all of his dark green boughs; the oaks and beeches soon donned again their green garb; and thus little Ilse lived joyous, happy days in the still and lovely vale, hundreds upon hundreds of years. The winter, it is true, returned each year, inflicting the same cruel fate upon trees and shrubs, and laying his glittering snares for the little Ilse. But the active, sinewy little child never suffered herself to be caught. Lithe and smooth and as a lizard, she slipped always through his rough, icy hands. The trees too renewed their verdure each year, and were never more beautiful, or more fresh than in Spring, as if the struggle with Winter had strengthened and purified them. Little Ilse, too, was never more lustrous and sparkling, than when, the snow having thawed on the mountain-tops, she rushed in her full vigor through the forest. Snow is, in fact, for little streams, the milk of life, of which the oftener they drink, the more lusty do they become.

The greenwood was very proud of its adopted child, little Ilse; and as she never thought now of herself, but only of her beloved trees and plants and how she could serve them, entirely forgetting that she was a Princess; they never forgot that she was one, and trees and flowers, the stones, the graceful grass and the mosses prized her the more highly, and after their manner did her silent reverence."

As the Princess coursed along through the valley, the weeds and flowers would crowd around her, kissing the hem of her garment and her flowing veil; and the tall graceful grasses, standing along her path, waved to her their feathered hats.

The thoughtful blue-bells, the forest's loveliest flower child, who loved Ilse above all and always strove to be near her, would press close to her, bend over her and gaze upon her pensively with their calm deep eyes. Aye, they would even climb npon the wet, slippery stones, around which the Princess had thrown her arms, and there she would kiss them affectionately and spread a soft moss-carpet under them, so that their feet of fibre might find a foot-hold on the slippery surface. Thus the blue-bells would pass whole summers on the damp stones, encircled by little Ilse's arms; living in the quiet and peaceful society of grasses and weeds, as it were, a fairy-life on an enchanted isle. The ferns too, climbing into every vacant spot on the moist stones, would fan little Ilse with their bright green leaves and, jealous of the sun's rays, would not let them kiss her. These loved her too, and as often as the grey clouds which hung around the mountain top allowed them, they would leap down to her and gambol with her under the trees.

The grey clouds have been for ages the wardens of the sun-rays; and, being themselves so heavy and helpless that they would hardly ever move from their original posts, did not the storm-wind occasionally dash his besom among them and put them to flight; they can not well endure the merry sport and the winsome jests which their bright light-footed wards enjoy with the little Ilse on the green sward beneath; and so they sit oftentimes on the mountain, impassable as a stone wall, and not suffering the smallest sun-ray to escape. And, at times, too, the hard rain pours down into the vale, rejoiced to see little Ilse rolling along alone and sad. Such conduct naturally renders the sun-rays im

patient of their grey duennas. Behind the old ladies' back they carry on a wild revel, and jest and taunt them, till finding the place too hot, the heavy clouds roll slowly away and disappear altogether. The way being thus cleared, the sun-rays spring again into the thicket, swing themselves in the rain-drops, still hanging from the trees, and romp whole days in the grass with little Ilse.

It was on such an occasion that a white strawberry blossom, whose numerous family was scattered through the valley of the Harz-mountains, was quietly, and, as she thought, unnoticed, admiring herself mirrored in Ilse's bright robe. But Ilse saw her, and shaking her finger called to her. "Ah, ah, strawberry blossom, thou art too vain of the golden yellow knob thou wearest in thy hair." The astonished little flower dropped her white petals and shrank quickly beneath her green leaves. The sunbeams, however, bounded laughing after her, and caught her behind the broad leaves, blushing deeply at having been detected. As often as she caught the eye of one of them her cheeks would mantle with a deeper crimson, till finally, perfectly purple, she kept behind her green leaf screen, and hung her little head on the ground. The jolly, goodhearted full moon too, Ilse's old friend, made her many a visit. Crossing the mountains, he would stand directly over the Ilsenstein, the most beautiful cliff of the lofty ridge which the residents of the valley have named after the little Princess, and then gaze with friendly eyes upon his favorite, as she meandered along under the mountain's shadow, playing with the silver stars he threw her.

Men, too, have long since been codwellers with the little Ilse, in this greenwood; but our Princess was at

first very coy of them, and the Pine had quite a task to induce the child not to look upon them as foes, but to be sociable with them. The first men who came were a couple of charcoal burners. They built their hut, felled trees, made their charcoal-kiln and burnt their coal. Little Ilse shed many tears, when she saw her much-loved trees felled by the sharp axe and stretched dying on the ground; and grasses and flowers complained so bitterly of man who crushed them as he walked through the forest, that little Ilse's heart was sorely wounded. The flames, too, that flared up from the kiln, and the smoke which rose from it, re-called to her that fearful night on the Brocken, and filled her with repugnance to man. The Pine, however, told her that he, fashioned after God's image, was creation's lord, and that all beings were made to serve him; that every tree, having lived the time assigned it by its Creator, would be struck to the ground, either by the hand of man or by the lightning from heaven, or by fire, or by its own decay. Of Fire, she should not be afraid. It is a holy power, effecting much good on earth, when used with wisdom; that she herself, little Princess, would soon learn this and would one day join hand in hand with Fire in common labour. Princess Ilse, however, did not anticipate with much pleasure, the time when she should unite with Fire in his work; but, having great respect for the Pine's foresight, believed his words fully.

A long time after these events, a second company-a large number, this time-came into the valley, equipped with axes and spades, and driving a herd of oxen and goats, which they tethered in the green pastures among the mountains. A short distance from Ilse's stone, where the valley began to

expand, they made an open attack upon Ilse; felled many trees that stood near her, sawed them into boards and rafters, and at the very side of the Princess, dug for her a spacious chamber in the earth, with walls of stone and turf, and with a broad opening upon the valley, barricaded strongly with boards. With the other boards and rafters, they built houses for themselves, their wives and their children. When all was finished, they invited the little Princess to take possession of her new apartment, and to make herself comfortable. Little Ilse thanking them, wished to pass on, not knowing whether it were safe or not to accept this invitation. But the men blocked up her path with stones and earth, and tore away a large rock which guarded her in her course. As she was running swiftly, she could not stop herself, but rushed with her whole force through the gap into her new chamber, which the men called a pond. Spreading herself over its whole breadth, she dashed angrily with her foaming waves against its walls. It took her some time to become calm and quiet in her strange prison house After a little while, she bore her trouble more patiently, and collecting her waters and thoughts, looked up enquiringly to the Pine, who, unscathed, stood near the gable end of her new house.

The Pine replied to her look with a mournful smile. Agriculture has invaded us, little Ilse, and will leave but little, either of freedom or of peace, in our beautiful greenwood." "Agriculture!" sighed. Ilse. "Ah God pity us! It is surely from the Devil? Whoever strikes so many of God's trees to the earth, then flays them and cuts them up, can not be good." "Poor child," answered the Pine, smiling, "What wilt thou say, when thou learnest to know Agriculture's