54 THE ELFIN EXILE. 



a narrow thread-like rivulet, winding far off amid the brush- 

 wood, until lost in the distant Hudson. Beautiful indeed was 

 the spot — beautiful is it even now ; for while men have left 

 their footprints on every rock, and have levied tribute from 

 every tributary of that noblest of rivers, the " Indian Fall," is 

 still as lovely in its simple and sublime loneliness, as when none 

 but the red hunter had climbed its steep sides to bathe his 

 heated brow in its crystal waters. 



To this sweet spot Mimosa unsconciously directed her 

 flight on a calm still evening in the glad summer-time. En- 

 tranced with delight when she found herself amid so much 

 beauty, the pale and drooping fairy folded her gossamer wings, 

 and, gliding like a ray of moonlight amid the dark foliage, at 

 length threw herself upon a bed of soft velvet moss, which had 

 felt the freshness of the waterfall until its hue was like the 

 emerald, and its touch like the lip of beauty. Suddenly there 

 arose upon the still air a faint sweet music, like the chime of 

 the fairy harebell, only clearer, more distinct, more wildly 

 sweet. The heart of Mimosa thrilled with delight ; it was the 

 elfin signal ; some gentle sprite was near, and the lonely fay 

 felt a new hope spring up within her bosom. Anon the strain 

 was repeated from the other side; then it resounded from beneath 

 her feet ; and as she looked down she perceived the delicate 

 blossoms of the blue harebell, swinging gently in the breeze, and 

 giving out their melodious chimes. Delighted to find that which 

 reminded her so sweetly of home, she raised her eyes in rap- 

 ture, when they encountered a figure which rivetted their 

 gaze. 



