38 EVE SPY 



upon the stem. Upon another tender branch 

 near by a jet-black, gauze-winged elf is casting a 

 similar spell, which is this time followed by a tiny, 

 downy, pink-cheeked peach. And here alights a 

 tiny sprite, whose magic touch evokes even from 

 the same leaf a cherry, or a coral bead, perhaps a 

 huge green apple ! How many of us have seen 

 the little elf that spends her life among the tan- 

 gles of creeping cinque-foil, and decks its stems 

 with those brilliant scarlet beads which we may 

 always find upon them, looking verily like tempt- 

 ing berries. 



We see here about us swarms of these busy 

 elves in obedience to their own peculiar mischiev- 

 ous promptings. WHiat whispers this glittering 

 midge to the oak twig here to which she clings 

 so closely ? We may not guess ; but if we pass 

 this way a month or so hence, what a beautiful 

 response in the glistening, rosy- clouded sponge 

 which encircles the stem ! " But this sponge is 

 not pretty enough by half," exclaims a rival fairy. 

 " Wait until you see what yonder sweetbrier rose 

 will do for me." Hovering thither among its 

 thorns, she imparts her spell, and, lo ! within a 

 month the stem is clothed in emerald fringe, 

 which grows apace, until it has become a dense 

 pompon of deep crimson — a sponge worthy the 

 toilet of the fairy queen herself ! 



Who shall still say that the fairy is a myth ! 



