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the Xtrtle l0eople 



39 



Now the congregation breaks up and we seem to be 

 holding a levee, each little group of fairies politely coming up 

 to say good-bye. I notice that immediately they have paid 

 their courtesy each one pops something, apparently a fern 

 seed, into his mouth, and, presto! he is gone like a puff of \ 

 smoke. No, not altogether like a puff of smoke either, for 

 when that goes even the puppy cannot follow it, while thisi 

 disappearance which seems so complete to me, apparently 

 hinders him not in the least. As for me, their transmutation 

 is sufficiently marvellous to remind me of the boast of the 

 Chamberlain in Henry IV and to wish that sometimes I too 

 might "Have the receipt of fern-seed, to walk invisible." 

 Cunning children of the wild, no wonder the puppy loves to / 

 play with you. And each one, before leaving, has amicably 

 tucked a sprig of forget-me-not into a hollow stump near me. 

 I wonder if they remember the story of the Persian angel 

 who fell in love, contrary to the angel laws, with a beautiful 

 earthbom maiden who twined these little flowers in her hair! 

 The guilty one was condemned to live in outer darkness until 

 he and his love should plant forget-me-nots over the whole 

 earth. The Persian story-tellers solemnly assure us that this 

 was accomplished and that the happy pair were translated 

 to heaven where, as in all good fairy tales, "they lived happy 

 ever after." True or fancy, we shall need no forget-me- 

 nots to keep our little fairy friends in mind. How dearly we 

 should have loved to have peeped into those days described 

 so graphically by the Wife of Bath in the Canterbury Tales 



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