HAIRY WOOpPECKER. 95 



by children and wood fairies opens at his touch. 

 The black unshaded tree trunks turn into en- 

 chanted lichen palaces, rich with green and gold 

 of every tint. The " pert fairies and the dapper 

 elves " have left their magic circles in the grass, 

 and trip lightly around the soft green velvet moss 

 mounds so well suited for the throne of their 

 queen. Here they find the tiny moss spears Lowell 

 christened, " Arthurian lances," and quickly arm 

 themselves for deeds of fairy valor. Here, too, are 

 dainty silver goblets from which they can quaff 

 the crystal globes that drop one by one from the 

 dark moss high on the trees after rain. And 

 there what wonders in fern tracery, silver fili- 

 gree and coral for the fairy Guinevere I 



But hark ! the children are coming and off 

 the grave magician flies to watch their play from 

 behind a neighboring tree trunk. There they 

 come, straight to his workshop, and laugh in glee 

 at the white chips he has scattered on the ground. 



They are in league with the fairies, too, and 

 cast magic spells over all they see. First they spy 

 the upturned roots of a fallen tree. It is a moun- 

 tain! And up they clamber, to overlook their 

 little world. And that pool left by the fall rains. 

 Ha ! It is a lake I And away they go, to cross 

 it bravely on a bridge of quaking moss. 



As they pass under the shadow of a giant hem- 

 lock and pick up the cones for playthings, they 

 catch sight of the pile of dark red sawdust at the 



