him rich gifts, things he cared not for, and with equal pride has he sent them back. 

 “Then let me, the weakest of your band, go to him, trusting in the love I know lies hidden in the coldest heart. 

 “I will bear only a garland of our fairest flowers; these will I wind about him, and their bright faces, looking lovingly in his, will bring sweet thoughts to his dark mind, and their soft breath steal in like gentle words. Then, when he sees them fading on his breast, will he not sigh that there is no warmth there to keep them fresh and lovely? This will I do, dear Queen, and never leave his dreary home, till the sunlight falls on flowers fair as those that bloom in our own dear land.” 

 Silently the Queen had listened, but now, rising and placing her hand on little Violet’s head, she said, turning to the throng below:— “We in our pride and power have erred, while this, the weakest and lowliest of our subjects, has from the innocence of her own pure heart counselled us more wisely than the noblest of our train. All who will aid our brave little messenger, lift your wands, that we may know who will place their trust in the Power of Love.” 

 Every fairy wand glistened in the air, as with silvery voices they cried, “Love and little Violet.” 

 Then down from the throne, hand in hand, came the Queen and Violet, and till the moon sank did the Fairies toil, to weave a wreath of the fairest flowers. Tenderly they gathered them, with the night-dew fresh upon their leaves, and as they wove chanted sweet spells, and whispered fairy blessings on the bright messengers whom they sent forth to die in a dreary land, that their gentle kindred might bloom unharmed. 

 At length it was done; and the fair flowers lay glowing in the soft starlight, while beside them stood the Fairies, singing to the music of the wind-harps:— 

 We are sending you, dear flowers, Forth alone to die, Where your gentle sisters may not weep O’er the cold graves where you lie; But you go to bring them fadeless life In the bright homes where they dwell, And you softly smile that ’t is so, As we sadly sing farewell. 

Forth alone to die,

O’er the cold graves where you lie;

In the bright homes where they dwell,

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