" Cheerily sung ! " cried Dick and Chip. " We
heard your merry voice, and crept out of our nests
to listen. May we come down and sit by the wild-
flower while you are singing? "

" Br-r-r, br-r-r, better be in bed, br-r-r, br-r-r ! "
rattled a deep voice among the tall reeds.
" Ha, ha ! " bubbled the brook. " That is only
one of my old green frogs in the marshes. Per-
haps I woke him with my singing, and he is
angry with me. But, come along, my frisky
friends ! If it were only summer now, I would
send my tiny fire-flies to light your way out of the
woods. Do you remember. Bunny, how my bright
messengers used to lead Chip and Dick through
the forest ? "

" Yes, I often think of one night when I saw
them. The two little squirrels came tripping over
the dry leaves ; four shining bead-eyes went peep-
ing into every dark corner, while scores of fairy



AN EVENING UNDEB THE STABS. 73

fire-flies waved and swung their faint flash-lights
on every side to frighten the shadows back into
the dense woods ; and all the while the brook kept
singing :

" ' When softly mother earth is dreaming — sleeping,
I question whence the fire-flies come ;
The Moon says, " Tears they are from stars that, weeping.
Have lost the path that leads them home.' "

— Eugene Ashton.
