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was trying to distinguish the objects in it, I heard the sound of a feeble singing. Could it be the "Zéphyr's" voice that sounded so far away, so faint and gasping? I listened, and my eyes filled unconsciously with tears. I recognized the tune and the refrain

"Follow me, fairies! follow me soon

Back to my palace behind the moon,

Where I reign for ever and ever!"

"Where is she?" I asked, turning to the fair-haired girl, who stood still regarding me, half-wistfully, halfdefiantly. She nodded her head towards a corner of the room, a corner which, though very dark, was still sheltered from any draught from either window or door, and there, on a miserable pallet bed, lay the poor little "Fairy Queen," tossing from side to side restlessly, her azure eyes wide open and glittering with feverish trouble, her lovely silken hair tangled and lustreless, and her tiny hands clenching and unclenching themselves mechanically and almost fiercely. But as she tossed about on her miserable pillow, she sang unceasingly, if such a feeble wailing might be called singing. I turned from the heartrending sight to the elder girl, who, without waiting to be asked, said abruptly, "She has got brainfever. The doctor says she cannot live over to-morrow. It's all been brought on through over-work, and excitement and bad food. I can't help it. I know she has never had enough to eat. I am often half-starved my

self. Father drinks up every penny that we earn.

It's

a good thing, I think, that Winnie will get out of it all soon. I wish I were dead myself, that I do!" And here the hardened look on the pretty face suddenly melted, the defiant flash in the eyes softened, and, flinging herself down by the little pallet, she broke into a passion of sobs and tears, crying out, "Poor Winniepoor little Winnie!"

I prefer to pass over the remainder of this scene in silence. Suffice it to say that I did what I could to alleviate the physical sufferings of poor little "Zéphyr" and her unfortunate sister; and before leaving I earnestly entreated the now quite softened and still sobbing elder girl to let me know whether her sister grew better or worse. This she promised to do, and leaving my name and address, I kissed the hot little forehead of the fallen "Fairy Queen," and took my departure. The next morning I heard that the child was dead. She had died in the night, and with her last fluttering breath she had tried to sing her little fairy song. And so the human "Zéphyr" had floated away from the stage of this life, where fairy-land is only the dream of poets, to the unknown country-to the

"Island valley of Avilion,

Where never wind blows loudly."

Thinking of her as I write, I almost, fancy I see a delicate sprite on rainbow pinions flitting past me; I

almost hear the sweet child-voice rendered powerful and pure by the breath of immortality, singing softly

"Follow me soon

Back to my palace behind the moon,

Where I reign for ever and ever!"

And who shall assert that she does not reign in some distant glorified region-the little queen of a chosen court of child-angels for whom this present

world was too hard and sorrowful?

MY WONDERFUL WIFE.

AN EXTRAVAGANZA IN SMOKE.

The Hired Baby, etc.

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