sometimes the little girl thought, if there were such beings as fairies, they must look into her heart every day, find out her wishes, and tell them to her good parents.

Between you and me, there were two fairies—one named Love and the other Contentment—that lived all the time in Reuben's hut; and though Violet had never seen their faces, and did not even know their names, they were always doing something for her. It was because these excellent friends had touched her coarse garments that they looked fine and soft as velvet to her eyes; it was because they never left the old black hut that it looked so clean and sunny—cheerful as a palace.

You may wonder, if these fairies were so powerful, why they didn't have a palace of their own; but you must remember directly they enter a place it becomes a palace; and besides, Violet possessed a charm so powerful that even the fairies could not fly away unless she gave them leave; and yet—wasn't it queer?—she did not know this herself.

CHAPTER II.

STRANGE PLAYFELLOWS.

Violet's birthday was very near; but she had forgotten all about it, birthdays came so far apart in her happy life. From morning until evening seemed long enough for a year to her; she found so much work to do, and such beautiful walks to take, and had so many playfellows, to say nothing of the two good fairies that always watched over and followed her.

Perhaps you wonder how the little girl found friends, living as she did away out in a lonesome field among the mountains. She could have described her pets to you better than I can, because the fairy Love dressed them up for her in jewels and rainbows, while to others they were only toads, and snakes, and flies, and trees, and brooks, and clouds.

Funny playfellows, you will think. There was one good thing about them—they never quarrelled or used bad words; and then it was sport for Violet, after her work was finished, to scamper away with them.

But if she ran ever so fast, the fairy Love always kept up with her; and it is well she did; for if she had staid at home, or fallen into a pit on the way, all Violet's dear playfellows would have changed in an instant—have grown ugly and coarse, and, what is worse, she would have trodden on them and crushed their wings—by mistake, I hope, for she never had been so wicked; and Violet herself would have changed into a little peevish girl, with a sickly face and loose yellow hair, and wearing a dress so coarse and rough you 

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