remember it. If it is really good we ought to remember it, not only because of its excellence, but, in the case of an old story, because we so often find allusions to it in our other reading. The best way to fix a story in mind is to make an outline of the incidents, or plot. Then we can see the whole thing almost at a glance, and so remembrance is made easy.

A good outline of The Snow Queen would appear something like this:

I. The Goblin's Mirror.

(Enlarges evil; dis

torts and diminishes good.)

1. The Mirror is broken.

II. Kay and Gerda.

1. The little rose garden.

2. Pieces of the mirror find their way into

Kay's eye and heart.

3. The Snow Queen.

a. Finds Kay.

b. Carries him away.

C. Makes him forget Gerda.

III. Gerda's Search for Kay.
1. Carried away by the river.
2. Rescued by the old witch.

IV. In the Flower garden.

1. The rose reminds Gerda of Kay.

Gerda questions the flowers.

2.

V. Gerda Continues Her Search in Autumn. 1. Gerda meets the Crow and follows him.

a. The princess's castle.

b. The prince is not Kay.

C.

Gerda in rich clothes continues her search in a carriage.

VI. Gerda meets the Robbers.

1. The old woman claims Gerda.

2. The robber girl fancies Gerda.

3.

The Wood Pigeons tell about Kay.

4. The Reindeer carries Gerda on her

search.

VII. Gerda's Journey on the Reindeer.

1.

The Lapland woman.

a. Cares for Gerda.

b. Sends message on a codfish.

2. The Finland woman.

а. Cares for Gerda.

C.

b. Tells what has happened to Kay. Tells what ails Kay and says Kay may be saved by the power of innocent girlhood.

VIII. Kay's Rescue.

1.

At the Snow Queen's palace.

a. Kay cannot write eternity.

b. The Snow Queen leaves for Italy.

h. Gerda's kisses restore Kay to warmth and health.

2. The return journey.

There is little use in reading if we do not get from it something that makes us wiser, better or nobler, or that gives us an inspiration to work harder and make more of ourselves. I think the author of The Snow Queen meant that we should get something more than a half-hour's enjoyment out of his beautiful story.

He makes us like little Kay and his sweet friend Gerda, and then saddens us with Kay's misfortunes. We do not like to see him become crossgrained, mean in disposition and stony hearted.

Then we learn to admire the faithfulness and courage and bravery of Gerda, and follow her to the Snow Queen's palace, afraid every moment she will not find Kay.

When she does find him, it is her tears of sympathy that melt his icy heart, her sweet faith in the Christ-child that clears his eyes, and her love that brings him back to life.

Of course this is all a fairy story; but children and all the race of grownups, even, may learn that it is only by innocence, sympathy and love that the wickedness in the world can be overcome.

THE CHIMERA

By NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

NCE, in the old, old times (for all the strange things which I tell you about happened long before anybody can remember), a fountain gushed out of a hillside in the marvelous land of Greece. And, for aught I know,

after so many thousand years it is still gushing out of the very selfsame spot. At any rate, there was the pleasant fountain welling freshly forth and sparkling adown the hillside in the golden sunset when a handsome young man named Bellerophon drew near its margin. In his hand he held a bridle studded with brilliant gems and adorned with a golden bit. Seeing an old man and another of middle age and a little boy near the fountain, and likewise a maiden who was dipping up some of the water in a pitcher, he paused and begged that he might refresh himself with a draught.

"This is very delicious water," he said to the maiden as he rinsed and filled her pitcher after drinking out of it. "Will you be kind enough to tell me whether the fountain has any name?"

"Yes, it is called the Fountain of Pirene," answered the maiden; and then she added, "My grandmother has told me that this clear fountain was once a beautiful woman; and when her son was killed by the arrows of the huntress Diana, she melted all away into tears. And so the water

which you find so cool and sweet is the sorrow of that poor mother's heart!"

"I should not have dreamed," observed the young stranger, "that so clear a wellspring, with its gush and gurgle and its cheery dance out of the shade into the sunlight, had so much as one tear-drop in its bosom. And, this, then, is Pirene? I thank you, pretty maiden, for telling me its name. I have come from a far-away country to find this very spot."

A middle-aged country fellow (he had driven his cow to drink out of the spring) stared hard at young Bellerophon and at the handsome bridle which he carried in his hand.

"The watercourses must be getting low, friend, in your part of the world," remarked he, "if you come so far only to find the Fountain of Pirene. But pray, have you lost a horse? I see you carry the bridle in your hand; and a very pretty one it is, with that double row of bright stones upon it. If the horse was as fine as the bridle, you are much to be pitied for losing him."

"I have lost no horse," said Bellerophon with a smile, "but I happen to be seeking a very famous one, which, as wise people have informed me, must be found hereabouts if anywhere. Do you know whether the winged horse Pegasus still haunts the Fountain of Pirene, as he used to do?"

But then the country fellow laughed.

Some of you, my little friends, have probably heard that this Pegasus was a snow-white steed with beautiful silvery wings, who spent most of his time on the summit of Mount Helicon. He was as wild and as swift and as buoyant in his flight