in somebody else's waistcoat pocket. He
thought, besides, what a great thing a man is. He had never seen
anything so large in Fairy-land, nor so important; so, on the whole, he
was glad that he had come back and felt very happy.

"I think," said his father, "it must be time this man of ours was in
bed."

So his mother kissed him good-night, and he went up into his own room
and said his prayers. He got into his little white bed and comfortably
fell asleep.

THE LINE OF GOLDEN LIGHT, OR THE LITTLE BLIND SISTER[I]

BY ELIZABETH HARRISON

Once upon a time there lived a child whose name was Avilla; she was
sweet and loving, and fair to look upon, with everything in the world to
make her happy--but she had a little blind sister, and Avilla could not
be perfectly happy as long as her sister's eyes were closed so that she
could not see God's beautiful world, nor enjoy His bright sunshine.
Little Avilla kept wondering if there was not something that she could
do which would open this blind sister's eyes.

At last, one day, she heard of an old, old woman, nobody knew how old,
who had lived for hundreds of years in a dark cave, not many miles away.
This queer, old woman knew a secret enchantment, by means of which the
blind could receive their sight. The child Avilla asked her parents'
permission to make a journey to the cave, in order that she might try to
persuade the old woman to tell her this secret. "Then," exclaimed she,
joyfully, "my dear sister need sit no longer in darkness." Her parents
gave a somewhat unwilling consent, as they heard many strange and wicked
stories about the old woman. At last, however, one fine spring morning,
Avilla started on her journey. She had a long distance to walk, but the
happy thoughts in her heart made the time pass quickly, and the soft,
cool breeze seemed to be whispering a song to her all the way.

When she came to the mouth of the cave, it looked so dark and forbidding
that she almost feared to enter it, but the thought of her little blind
sister gave her courage, and she walked in. At first she could see
nothing, for all the sunshine was shut out by the frowning rocks that
guarded the entrance. Soon, however, she discerned the old woman sitting
on a stone chair, spinning a pile of flax into a fine, fine thread. She
seemed bent nearly double with age, and her face wore a look of worry
and care, which made her appear older.

The child Avilla came close to her side, and th