have sung and reasoned, to the end of time, on the force of ridicule. A man may read Werther, and apply a razor to his throat with something of a pleasurable sensation; but he who winces not at the irony of a bitter jest, must indeed be more than mortal. For this reason we suppose it was that Mathias continued to walk strait forward. A right line, however, is not always the safest to pursue, for, to crown his mishap, our poor perplexed fiddler soon discovered-that he had lost his way. What was to be done in this emergency? To advance would entangle him still further in the intricacies of the forest; to lay himself down at the foot of a tree, and await the return of morning, might likewise be attended with some trifling inconveniences. Some hungry wolf, in quest of a supper, would infallibly make a meal of him and his bass-viol. Both hands resting on his trusty staff, Mathias ruminated painfully and profoundly; and, as usual in such cases, the more he reflected, the more embarrasing seemed his position. At last anxiously stretching his head forward, in the hope of penetrating the surrounding obscurity, he suddenly, fancied that in the distance he perceived a light. "Providence and the saints be praised!" exclaimed he, "that must be some woodman's hut, where I can obtain shelter for the remainder of the night." Notwithstanding the darkness of the forest, he quickened his pace, in his anxiety to reach the friendly beacon, when suddenly the light vanished. This provoking accident would have tried the tem per of a wiser man. Tantalus and his slippery feast, Sisyphus and his rolling-stone, and all the other instances of mythological vexation on record were nothing in comparison. Mathias gnashed his teeth, stamped with passion, and, to mend the matter, swore like a trooper. We would by no means hold out encouragement to swearing, but our love of veracity compels us to adhere to facts--and the fact is, that by the time Mathias had fired a volley of oaths, the light reappeared. After an infinity of trouble, several awkward tumbles, and much additional swearing, Mathias reached the spot from whence the light proceeded. Though somewhat of a sceptic with regard to certain matters that require a good dose of faith (indeed the old ladies of Hesden set him down as a free thinker), Mathias was astounded beyond measure on finding himself before a chateau of magnificent appearance. Times unnumbered had he wandered through the forest in every possible direction, but had never seen or even heard of such a building. "'Twas passing strange." We do not pretend to say what share the strirrup-cup, in which Mathias had pledged his hosts at parting, might have had in producing the miracle; that knotty point we leave to casuists, but as it was, he found himself wholly bewildered-conglomorated,-expatriated, as it were, from the ordinary circle of his ideas. He ventured to gaze on the windows, which were brilliantly illuminated; the forms of a gay group of dancers were marked in shadowy outline on the transparent drapery of the cur tains; his ear was struck with the harmony of a delicious band of music, and as he listened in breathless silence, he distinguished, to his no small wonderment, most of the identical airs, waltzes, overtures, variations and all, which he had himself executed so much to his own satisfaction and that of the village revellers, Plucking up a bold spirit, Mathias determined to claim the hospitality of the owner of the noble mansion: for that purpose it was necessary to discover the entrance-an achievement which, strange as it may appear, our hero found impracticable. There was certainly witchcraft in the matter, or wine;-we pretend not to decide. Several times did the worthy Mathias make the tour of the immense building, but in vain. He was about to retire in despair, when suddenly an old man made his appearance; but whether from the clouds or from the bowels of the earth, the optics of the fiddler enabled him not to discern. Be that as it may, his arrival was most seasonable. which Mathias then for the first time perceived, the stranger blew a loud and lengthened blast, when a draw-bridge, which had equally escaped our hero's penetration, was instantly lowered, and the old gentleman closely followed by Mathias, penetrated to the interior of the manor. Seizing a horn Unbounded was the astonishment of Mathias on find Some ing the castle-hall filled with a numerous throng of "lords and ladies bright," all of whom participated in the various amusements of a festive scene. gambled, though Mathias, as he afterwards confessed, was sadly puzzled by the nature of the game: even the cards with which they played seemed to him as though marked with strange and fantastic emblems. Others participated in the luxury of a sumptuous banquet, while most of the guests waltzed to the music of an excellent orchestra, which the dancers accompanied with frantic shouts and yells. Mathias felt his blood creep chilly through his veins ; nevertheless, he put on a bold face, and with his best ball-room bow advanced towards a tall personage, whom he easily recognised to be the master of the house by the tone of authority with which he issued his orders. "Noble sir," said our scraper," a poor fiddler, who has lost his way in the intricacies of the forest, begs a few hours' courteous hospitality. Vouchsafe your humble servant permission to pass the night in a corner of this lordly manor: to-morrow, at break of day, God willing, I purpose to depart." This morsel of eloquence was answered merely by a condescending nod, the host at the same time wisepering something to a page, who took Mathia's bass-viol and suspended it to one of the rich golden knobs which garnished the tapistried walls of the saloon. In reply to the host's commands, Mathias remarked that the page smiled with something of infernal expression, and "oh horrible, most horrible!" the part of the bass-viol pressed by his fingers instantly blackened, as though his hand had been red hot. mark could never be erased, and was often subsequently submitted to the inspection of the learned Thebans of Hesden, from one of whose lineal descendants we have gathered these and other interesting particulars. The To beguile the time, Mathias took a lounge through the spacious apartment, and began to examine the singular scene before him. To his unspeakable perplexity he was unable to recognise the physiognomy of a single individual; not but he tried with might and main; but strange to say, when he attempted to fix his eyes on the features of any of the guests, a thin vapoury mist immediately intervened to disappoint his curiosity. Whilst he pondered on this unaccountable particularity, he perceived a superb bass viol lying within reach. Actuated by a sudden and irresistible impulse, and delighted with the opportunity of exhibiting his savoir faire, he seized the instrument, and determined to join the musicians in the orchestra. Raising his eyes to search for the staircase communicating with the sort of gallery in which they were seated, ineffable was his dismay on discovering in the midst of them, and scraping in the plenitude of thorough bass superiority, his quondam friend and whilom music master, Barnaby Matassart who had paid the debt of nature full thirty years prior to that eventful night, "Holy Virgin! be good unto me!" exclaimed the panic-struck Mathias, and at the same instant, the dancers feasters, dicers, musicians castle and its lordly proprietor, all vanished, During the whole of that awful night, no tidings of Mathias reached Hesden, whose unwonted absence created an extraordinary sensation. His disappearance was in fact regarded by the sages of the place as an event no less portentous than an eclipse of the sun, moon or one of the fixed stars at least; and manifold were the conjeatures and calculations emanating therefrom. The general alarm, however, somewhat subsided, in consequence of a report which quickly spread through the village, that the luckless fiddler had been discovered in a state of insensibility in the forest, where he was supposed to have lain all night. A part of the merrymakers, whose festivities have been recorded in our humble page, and who had prudently defered their return homeward till the morning, on their way to Hesden fell in with Mathias, who was found in the predicament above described, and extended at the foot of a gibbet on which a criminal had recently been executed, In his hand was a white fiddle-bow of peculiar and exquisite workmanship. "Now, by the virgin," said the barber, apothecary, and dentist of Hesden (the reader will note that these three funstionaries is a single individual), "that should be old Mathias yonder; and if so, my crony must have taken leave of his senses to prefer so incommodious and ill-omened a resting place to the comforts of a warm bed." “Of a verity he is demented," observed the schoolmaster," for see where he has suspended his instrument of sweet sounds;" at the same time pointing to the bass-viol of Mathias, which, with its bow, was attached to the great toe of the skeleton, whose ghastly remains swung mournfully in the wind. "It appears too," added a lank looking personage, who by long prescription and the right to a ninth share in the dignity of a man, claimed the privilege of cabbaging the small clothes and other articles of apparel in fashion among the inhabitants of Hesden-" it appears that our friend Mathias has taken most tender care of Sir Gallows bird ;" seeing that the fiddlers cloak carefully enveloped the shoulders of the repulsive object. 66 Ah!" said a fourth, with regard to whose worldly calling our veracious sources of information have left us in some obscurity, but who humanely endeavoured to restore the benumbned musician to consciousness : "old Mathias was ever a cautious wight; he has provided himself with two fiddle bows in case of accidents." The succour afforded by his friends soon restored Mathias to the possesion of his faculties; however, on recovering his speech, he prudently abstained from all disclosure touching the extraordinary visions of the preceding night, merely attributing his accident to the intense cold with which his joints had been suddenly attacked. Arrived at his humble dwelling, and having taken leave of his kind companions, his first care was to examine the bow which had so marvellously fallen into his possession. His terror and amazement may partly be conceived, as he ascertained that the said bow was fashioned of a human bone elaborately wrought and profusely inlaid with silver. On the handle was engraved the name of a certain inhabitant of Hesden, who, by the wise and well-informed portion of the community, was reputed a vender of unlawful spells, and a wholesale dealer in the black art. What was to be done? Great was the tribulation of Mathias. Not for worlds would he have retained possession of the enchanted fiddlestick for another night, and to repair to the sorcerer's habitation was a fearful adventure. Both hazards duly weighed, he resolved to await the approach of dusk accordingly, as soon as the first star twinkled in the heavens, he recommended himself to every saint whose name and quality he could conveniently remember, and boldly directed his steps to the isolated retreat where dwelt the man of evil name. : After a weary march through paths encumbered with brambles, thistles, and other noxious superfluities of nature, Mathias arrived at the redoubted magician's abode. Civility, thought our excellent logician, is a coin that every where passes current, and leaves the disburser none the poorer: in obedience to which prudent maxim he commenced with a respectful salaam to the proprietor of the marvellous bow. "Worthy neighbour,' stammered out Mathias, I bring you a bow which, if I mistake not, belongs to your worship, and which I last night found by accident in the forest," 66 The doer of dark deeds turned pale at these words, and whether from consternation, or surprise, or both, remained speechless during some minutas. "Hum!" muttered he at length" Master Mathias, you have in truth seen wondrous sights, and made strange discoveries last night: an indiscreet word from your lips would do me irreparable injury." "Heaven forfend, your worship, that Mathias should be the man to give unruly license to his tongue!" "Your hand, Mathias" (and the fiddler shrunk back); you're a worthy neighbour, and your resolve in this matter is right prudent; for were I to be burnt alive-a fate which, were you to blab, would most assuredly be mine, trust me I would so arrange matters that my good neighbour and myself should not abruptly part company." Mathias, upon this, having accomplished the object. of his visit, and loth to hold further parley, rose to take leave. Hil design, however, was prevented by his host, who entreated him to sit down. Approaching his lips to the ear of his visitor," Neighbour," said the man of magic, in an under tone, "who are your enemies, that I may this night cast a spell upon their cattle, or afflict them personally with some wasting disease that shall do you ample and speedy vengeance?" Neighbour, I have no enemies, and heaven forbid that I should desire evil to my fellow creatures!" "How then can I do you a service? Speak.” 66 "I shall not trouble you," replied Mathias, who would have given his best bass-viol to have been on the other side of the door. "I seek no other recompense than the satisfaction which I feel at having restored this precious bow to its rightful owner." "Precious, indeed!" observed the wizard ;—" but, neighbour Mathias, you must absolutely accept some present at my hand." "Give him this purse," suddenly exclaimed a personage of most sinister aspect, and whose presence Mathias had not till that moment remarked. 'Tis a talisman of exceeding virtue, and contains a treasure of inexhaustible wealth. Draw upon it as he may, the possessor will always find in it six golden ducats." Mathias was astounded he began to consider how and when the last speaker could have entered the apartment, in which, if the evidence of the senses could be trusted, himself and the owner of the miraculous bow were, a moment before, the only individuals present. The doors too, after Mathias's arrival, had been carefully closed by the master of the house, who had excellent reasons for observing every precaution that tended to ensure secrecy on this occasion. By what mode of ingress, then, could the stranger have made his appearance? To solve this enigma might have puzzled a wiser man than the sapient fiddler of Hesden. As the purse was again tendered to him;-"No," replied Mathias with laudable resolution, ، I will not risk my eternal salvation by accepting a gift which has passed through the hands of the evil one." "Nay, not so," resumed the stranger; "tis a charmed purse, of whose contents the pious Christian may avail himself in safety" and as he pronounced a word which the powers of darkness may not utter without secret dread, a convulsive shudder seemed to agitate his frame. If this purse be the work of the demon-then I am damned;"—and a smile of bitter mockery played round his nether lip. Mathias began to get the better of his scruples; and, to talk in a business-like way, we much marvel at the squeamishness which he at first exhibited in this matter. To take a purse-we use the phrase in its most extensive signification, without any subtile distinction, between the achievement of the feat in the cabinet or in the field, i. e. on the road to take a purse, we say, is a practice recommended by highly respectable authority; and in no part of the habitable globe that comes within the limits of our geographical knowledge, except perhaps in the antique town of Hesden, would any solitary reformer have dared to raise his tiny voice, or hold out his pernicious example in opposition to such ancient and reasonable usage. Wherefore Mathias pondered, and was wise. He pocketed the purse without further hesitation; and having taken leave of the obliging donor, bent his steps homewards. Repeated trials having afforded the most satisfactory proofs of the efficacy of the magic gift, Mathias, in of time, became the occupant of a superb doprocess main, and began at the eleventh hour to enjoy life, as he termed it—that is to say, that eating, drinking, and sleeping were his principle avocations. Day after day nothing but fêtes and balls, and revelry, and boisterous mirth, The fiddling trade was wholly abandoned, the bass-viol, from which the ungrateful Mathias had reaped such a harvest of renown, being huddled into a corner, and condemned to inglorious obscurity. These new-fangled vagaries of old Wilmart occasioned some surprise to his friends, and much speculative dicussion among the village folks in general; for it must not be imagined that the lieges of Hesden selfishly attended to their own bussiness to the exclusion of all interference with that of their neighbours. Various were the rumours afloat on the subject of this weighty affair. The Solomons of the place, among whom was the apothecary, maintained that Mathias delt with the devil; however, the most approved version of the story was, that he had found a treasure, which he cunningly secreted in an unfrequented part of his mansion. It We know not how it happens that, acquainted as we are with Mathias's family affairs,, we have omitted all mention of four nephews, who, albeit that our fortunate fiddler was in the main kindly disposed towards his own flesh and blood, ranked but low in old nunky's estimation. On reflection, we opine that our biographical slip has in all probability proceeded from the circumstance that the aforesaid nephews formed as disorderly a partie carree of profligates as could well be congregated in town or country, and we desire to sully our modest vellum as little as possible with the record of doings that are "a scandal to the land." so chanced that the four prodigals on a certain day formed themselves into a sort of finance committee, at the breaking up of which it was resolved that unele Mathias, not being competent to do credit to the wealth which he had so unexpectedly acquired, it became incumbent on the deponents, his nephews and natural heirs, to take the necessary steps towards obtaining early possession of the misused property. This decision being adopted, these dutiful relatives went each his way, and at dead of night repaired in concert, and well armed, to a remote crossway in the forest, by which they had previously ascertained that the ill-fated Mathias was to pass. Oh destiny-but gently, gently;-let not this humour of digression seduce our straight-forward pen, but let us manfully stick to our tale, and the more epecially as it draws to a conclusion. Mathias, then, was overcome by his destiny. Four whizzing bullets extended him lifeless on the ground. A faithful domestic who accompanied him, seeing that his master's doom was sealed, sought safety in flight. The assasins, not a whit disturbed by the reflection that a witness had escaped to proclaim a deed of blood, rushed upon their victim, whose remains they proceeded to plunder by way of enjoying an earnest of rich inheritance which, they concluded was already theirs. At this precise moment, a tall ill favoured individual dropped upon them like a shell in the midst of an enemy's squadron; and pouncing on a little silk purse concealed at the bottom of Mathias's wallet, disappeared amidst a strong odour of brimstone. vanished, these words, mingled with a were distinctly pronounced in the air: gifts avail the possessor!" As the fiend satanic laugh, Thus do my 66 Whilst the nephews of Mathias remained motionless with astonishment, a party of archers, who had met the terrified domestic in his flight through the forest, suddenly surrounded them, and having bound them securely, delivered them to the strong arm of law. As the evidence of the crime was clear and specific, law and justice for once went hand in hand, and the inhabitants of Hesden were regaled with the spectacle of an execution, which was somewhat unusual in that abode of primeval innocence. The four nephews were hung upon the identical trees from behind whose shelter, they had taken their murderous aim, and the place of crime and retribution is to this day called The Crossway of the Four Brothers. SONNET. How grand to mark the anger of the sky, But, oh! in scenes like these proud man may THE LEGEND OF BOTTLE-HILL AN IRISH TRADITION. "Come, listen to a tale of times of old, Come, listen to me," feel It was in the good days when the little people, most impudently called fairies, were more frequently seen than they are in these unbelieving times, that a farmer, named Mick Purcell, rented a few acres of barren ground in the neighbourhood of the once celebrated preceptory of Mourne, situated about three miles from Mallow, and thirteen from the beautiful city called Cork." Mick had a wife and family: they all did what they could and that was but little, for the poor man had no child grown up big enough to help him in his work ; and all the poor woman could do was to mind the children, and to milk the one cow, and to boil the potatoes, and carry the eggs to market to Mallow; but, with all they could do, 'twas hard enough to pay the rent. Well, they did manage for a great while; but at last came a bad year, and the little grain of oats was all spoiled, and the chickens died of the pip, and the pig got the measels-she was sold in Mallow and brought almost nothing; and poor Mick found that he hadn't enough to half pay his rent, and two gales were due. Why; then, Molly," says he "what'll we do?" “Wisha, then, mavournene, what would you do but take the cow to the fair of Cork and sell her," says she;" and Monday is fair day, and so you must go to-morrow that the poor beast may be rested again the fair." "And what'll we do when she's gone?" said Mick sorrowfully. "Never a know I know, Mick; but god won't leave us without him, Mick; and you know how good he was to us when poor little Billy was sick, and we had nothing at all for him to take, and that good doctor gentleman at Ballydahin come riding and asking for a drink of milk; and how he gave us two shillings; and how he sent the things and the bottles for the child, and gave me my breakfast when I went over to ask a question, so he did; and how he came to see Billy; and never left off his goodness till he was quite well." "Oh! you are always that way, Molly, and I believe you are right after all, so I won't be sorry for selling the cow; but I'll go to morrow, and you must put a needle and thread through my coat, for you know 'tis ripped under the arm." Molly told him he should have every thing right; and about twelve o'clock next day he left her, getting a charge not to sell his cow except for the highest penny. Mick promised to mind it, and went his way along the road. He drove his cow slowly through the little stream which crosses it, aud runs under the old walls of Mourne; as he passed he glanced his eyes upon the towers and one of the old elder trees, which were only then little bits of switches. "Oh, then, if I only had half the money that's buried in you, 'tisn't driving this poor cow I'd be now! Why, then, isn't it too bad that it should be there covered over with earth, and many a one beside me wanting it? Well, if it's God's will I'll have some money myself coming back." So saying, he moved on after his beast; 'twas a fine day, and the sun shone brightly on the walls of the old abbey as he passed under them; he then crossed an extensive mountain tract, and after six long miles he came to the top of that hill-Bottle Hill 'tis called now, but that was not the name of it then, and just there a man overtook him. "Good morrow," says he. "Good morrow, kindly," says Mick, looking at the stranger, who was a little man, you'd almost call him a dwarf, only he wasn't quite so little neither: he had a bit of an old wrinkled, yellow face, for all the world like a dried cauliflower, only he had a sharp little nose, and red eyes, and white hair, and his lips were not red; but all his face was not one colour, and his eyes never were quiet, but looking at everything, and although they were red, they made Mick feel quite cold when he looked at them. In truth, he did not much like the little man's company; and he couldn't see one bit of his legs nor his body, for, though the day was warm, he was all wrapped in a big great coat. Mick drove his cow something faster, but the little man kept up with him. Mick didn't know how he walked, for he was almost afraid to look at him, and to cross himself for fear the old man would be angry. Yet he thought his fellow traveller did not seam to walk like other men, nor to put one foot before the other, but to glide over the rough road, and rough enough it was, like a shadow, without noise and without effort. Mick's heart trembled within him, and he said a prayer to him. self, wishing he hadn't come out that day, or that he was on Fair Hill, or that he hadn't the cow to mind, that he might run away from the bad thing-when, in the midst of his fears, he was again addressed by his companion. "Where are you going with the cow, honest man?" "To the fair of Cork, then," says Mick, trembling at the shrill and piercing tones of his voice. "Are you going to sell her ?" said the stranger. ་་ Why, then, what else am I going for but to sell "What will you give for her ?" at last says he, "I'll tell you what I'll give you this bottle, " said the little one pulling a bottle from under his coat. Mick looked at him and the bottle, and in spite of his terror, he could not help bursting into a loud fit of laughter. "Laugh if you will," said the little man, "but I tell you this bottle is better for you than all the money you you will get for the Cow in Cork-ay than ten thousand times as much." Mick laughed again-" Why, then," says he," do you think I am such a fool as to give my good cow for a bottle and an empty one, too? indeed, then, I won't." "You had better give me the cow, and take the bottle-you'll not be sorry for it.” 66 Why, then, and what would Molly say? I'd never hear the end of it; and how would I pay my rent; and what would we all do without a penny of money?" "I tell you this bottle is better to you than money; take it, and give me the cow. I ask you for the last time Mick Purcell." Mick started. "How does he know my name?" thought he. The stranger proceeded : "Mick Purcell, I know you, and I have a regard for you: therefore do as I warn you, or you may be sorry for it. How do you know but what your cow will die before you go to Cork' Mick was going to say," God forbid!" but the little man went on (and he was too attentive to say anything to stop to him; for Mick was a very civil man, and he knew better than to interrupt a gentleman, and that's what many people, that hold their heads higher, don't mind now.) "And how do you know but there will be much cattle at the fair, and you will get a bad price, or may be you might be robbed when you are coming home? but what need I talk more to you, when you are determined to throw away your luck, Mick Purcell." "Oh! no, I would not throw away my luck, sir," said Mick;" and if I was sure the bottle was as good as you say, though I never liked an empty bottle, although I had drank the contents of it, I'd give you the cow in the name", "Never mind names," said the stranger, "but give me the cow; I would not tell you a lie, Here take the bottle, and when you go home, do what I direct exactly." Mick hesitated. Well, then, good bye, I can stay no longer; once more take it and be rich; refuse it and beg for your life, and see your children in poverty, and your wife dying for want- that will happen to you, Mick Purcell said the little man, with a milicious grin, which made him look ten times more ugly than ever. "May be 'tis true," said Mick, still hesitating: he did not know what to do he could hardly help believing the old man, and at length, in a fit of desperation, he seized the bottle,-" Take the cow," said he, “and if you are telling me a lie, the curse of the poor will be on you." "I care neither for your curses nor your blessings, but I have spoken truth, Mick Purcell, and that you will find to-night, if you do what I tell you." "And what's that?" says Mick. "When you go home, never mind if your wife is "And is this all ?" says Mick. "No more," said the stranger. "Good bye, Mick Purcell you are a rich man." "God grant it!" said Mick, as the old man moved after the cow, and Mick retraced the road towards his cabin but he could not help turning back his head to look after the purchaser of his cow, who was nowhere to be seen. "Lord between us and harm!” said Mick : “He can't belong to this earth; but where is the cow?', She too was gone, and Mick went homeward muttering prayers, and holding fast the bottle "And what would I do if it broke?" thought he. “Oh ! but I'll take care of that; " so he put it into his bosom, and went on, anxious to prove his bottle, and doubting of the reception he should meet with from his wife balancing his anxieties with his expectation, his fears with his hopes, he reached home in the evening, and surprised his wife sitting over a turf fire in the big chimney. “Ob! Mick, are you come back? Sure you weren't at Cork all the way! What has happened to you? Where is the cow? Did you sell her? How much money did you get for her? What news have you? Tell us everything about it." "Why, then, Molly, if you'll give me time, I'll tell you all about it. If you want to know where the cow is, 'tisnt Mick can tell you, for the never a know does he know where she is now." "Oh! then you sold her; and where's the money?" "Arrah! stop awhile, Molly and I'll tell you all about it." But what bottle is that under your waiscoat?" said Molly, spying its neck sticking out. 66 Why, then be easy now, can't you," says Mick, "till I tell it to you; " and putting the bottle on the table, "That's all I got for the cow." His poor wife was thunder struck, "All you got! and what good is that Mick? Oh! I never thought you were such a fool; and what'il we do for the rent, and what' 66 Now, Molly," says Mick," can you harken to't reason? Didn't I tell you how the old man, or whatsoever he was, met me- no, did not meet me neither, but he was there with me on the big hill, and how he made me sell him the cow, aud told me that the bottle was the only thing for me?' "Yes, indeed, the only thing for you, you fool!" said Molly, seizing the bottle to hurl it at the poor husband's head; but Mick caught it, and quietly (for he minded the old man's advice) loosened his wife's grasp, and placed the bottle again in his bosom. Poor Molly sat down crying, while Mick told her his story, with many a crossing and blessing between him and harm. His wife could not help believing him, particuarly as she had as much faith in fairies as she had in the priest, who indeed never discouraged her belief in the fairies; may be, he didn't know she believed in them, and may be he believed them himself. She got up, however, without saying one word and began to sweep the earthen floor with a bunch of |