iry, who had just handed her up her glove on the point
of a lance like a sunbeam, she found herself seated by the flower. Poor
little thing! It was too late! Every blossom had fallen off but one, and
that looked unhealthy, and trembled when she breathed upon it. She
thought of her mamma, and fancied she could see them carrying her up to
bed, and all the doctors there, and nobody able to tell what ailed her;
and she threw herself all along upon the grass, and wished all the
fairies at the bottom of the Red Sea, and herself with them! And when
she looked up, what do you think she saw? and where do you think she
was? why, she was at the bottom of the Red Sea, and all the wonders of
the Red Sea were about her,--chariots and chariot-wheels and the
skeletons of war-horses, and mounted warriors, with heaps of glittering
armor, and jewels of silver and jewels of gold, and banner and shield
and spear, with millions and millions of little sea-fairies, and Robin
Goodfellows, and giants and dwarfs, and the funniest-looking monsters
you ever heard of; and the waters were all bright with fairy-lamps that
were alive, and with ribbons that were alive, and with changeable
flowers that swam about and whispered to each other in a language of
their own; and there were great heaps of pearl washed up into drifts and
ridges, and a pile of the strangest-looking old-fashioned furniture, of
gold and ivory, and little mermaids with their dolls not longer than
your finger, with live fishes for tails, jumping about and playing
hide-and-seek with the sun-spots and star-fishes, and the striped
water-snakes of the Indian seas,--the most brilliant and beautiful of
all the creatures that live there.

And while she was looking about her, and wondering at all she saw, she
happened to think once more of the _forget-me-not_, and to wish herself
back again! At that instant she heard a great heavy bell booming and
tolling,--she knew it was tolling--and she knew she was too late--and
she knew that her mother was dead of a broken heart,--and she fell upon
her face, and stretched forth her hands with a shriek, and prayed God to
forgive her! and allow her to see her mother once more,--only once more!

"Why, what ails the child?" whispered somebody that seemed to be
stooping over her.

It was her mother's voice! and poor Ruth was afraid to look up lest it
should all vanish forever.

"Upon my word, Sarah," said another voice,--it was her father's,--"upon
my wor