blossom lying half drooping on the window-frame.

"Vanda's gifts have ended," thought Erik, "but she has been a good
true friend to us! We have gained enough money for my mother to put
away her iron, and take the little farmhouse by the fiord. How happy
we shall be together."

* * * * *

The winter was nearly over, and Erik and his mother had settled down
to their happy life in the farmhouse.

Frost-flowers, with delicate fantastic groupings, still bloomed upon
the window-panes; but the Moon-Angel was not there to give them her
fairy-like gifts of life and beauty.

She had gone to console other struggling workers.

THE ALPEN-ECHO.

Long, long years ago, a young girl wandering with her herd of goats
upon the Mettenalp, lost her way amidst a mountain storm, and fell
into a chasm of the rock, where she lay white and lifeless.

The terrified goats reached the valley beneath, but the young girl was
never again heard of.

The spirits of the great mountain had claimed her for an Alpen-Echo,
and every day, for hundreds of years after, she floated amongst the
snow-covered peaks and crags of the Mettenalp, answering every horn
that sounded from the hunters or cow-herds, with a soft, sweet note,
so sad and distant it was like a soul in pain, and tears came to your
eyes--you knew not why--as you listened to its exquisite music.

"Come, follow me! Follow me to my secret haunts," wailed the Echo.
"Give me my soul! Give me my soul!"--but no one through all the
centuries had ever climbed to the Echo's hiding-place.

"If _only_ I could make them understand!" sobbed the Echo, "my long
bondage would cease. The first foot that treads my prison, frees me,
and gives me rest."

* * * * *

However, all the world was too busy to listen to the poor Echo, and
she called and cried in vain through the misty ages!

* * * * *

A boy, with a long Alpen-horn in his hand, stood by a chalet far away
in the wilds of Switzerland. Every now and then he blew a few wailing
notes upon the horn--notes that echoed across the valley, up to the
snow-covered heights beyond--and he smiled as the answer floated
clearly back again.

"The echoes are talking together, to-day," he said to himself. "They
love the bright air and the sunshine;" and again he blew a long,
changing note, that died away softly into the far distance.

"_Tra-la-la-a-a_" came f