by its banks, and various distant connections of ours whose nature and
properties will afford interest and instruction to a philosophical mind."

"Number Nip, for instance," cried the gay Pipalee.

"The Red Man!" said the graver Nymphalin.

"Oh, my queen, what an excellent scheme!" and Pipalee was so lively
during the rest of the night that the old fairies in the honeysuckle
insinuated that the lady of honour had drunk a buttercup too much of the
Maydew.



CHAPTER II.

THE LOVERS.

I WISH only for such readers as give themselves heart and soul up to
me,--if they begin to cavil I have done with them; their fancy should put
itself entirely under my management; and, after all, ought they not to be
too glad to get out of this hackneyed and melancholy world, to be run
away with by an author who promises them something new?

From the heights of Bruges, a Mortal and his betrothed gazed upon the
scene below. They saw the sun set slowly amongst purple masses of cloud,
and the lover turned to his mistress and sighed deeply; for her cheek was
delicate in its blended roses, beyond the beauty that belongs to the hues
of health; and when he saw the sun sinking from the world, the thought
came upon him that _she_ was his sun, and the glory that she shed over