discontented subjects, restored the home to peace and order, and left them blessing her. 

 Thus she journeyed on, till she reached the forest where Thistledown had lost his freedom. She unbound the starving dragon-fly, and tended the wounded birds; but though all learned to love her, none could tell where the Brownies had borne her friend, till a little wind came whispering by, and told her that a sweet voice had been heard, singing Fairy songs, deep in a moss-grown rock. 

 Then Lily-Bell went seeking through the forest, listening for the voice. Long she looked and listened in vain; when one day, as she was wandering through a lonely dell, she heard a faint, low sound of music, and soon a distant voice mournfully singing,— 

 “Bright shines the summer sun, Soft is the summer air; Gayly the wood-birds sing, Flowers are blooming fair. 

Soft is the summer air;

Flowers are blooming fair.

 “But, deep in the dark, cold rock, Sadly I dwell, Longing for thee, dear friend, Lily-Bell! Lily-Bell!” 

Sadly I dwell,

Lily-Bell! Lily-Bell!”

 “Thistle, dear Thistle, where are you?” joyfully cried Lily-Bell, as she flew from rock to rock. But the voice was still, and she would have looked in vain, had she not seen a little vine, whose green leaves fluttering to and fro seemed beckoning her to come; and as she stood among its flowers she sang,— 

 “Through sunlight and summer air I have sought for thee long, Guided by birds and flowers, And now by thy song. 

I have sought for thee long,

And now by thy song.

 “Thistledown! Thistledown! O’er hill and dell Hither to comfort thee Comes Lily-Bell.” 

O’er hill and dell

Comes Lily-Bell.”

 Then from the vine-leaves two little arms were stretched out to her, and Thistledown was found. So Lily-Bell made her home in the shadow of the vine, and brought such joy to Thistle, that his lonely cell seemed pleasanter to him than all the world beside; and he grew daily more like his gentle friend. But it did not last long, for one day she did not come. 

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