lled
thither in the flight of thoughts, never having quitted her hold of
the invisible thread from the paternal home.

The evil powers rushed with hurricane fury over the Tree of the Sun,
pressed with a wind-blast against the open doors, and into the
sanctuary where lay the Book of Truth.

"It will be blown away by the wind!" said the father, and he seized
the hand she had opened.

"No," she replied, with quiet confidence, "it cannot be blown away; I
feel the beam warming my very soul."

And the father became aware of a glancing flame, there where the
shining dust poured out of her hand over the Book of Truth, that was
to tell of the certainty of an everlasting life, and on it stood one
shining word--one only word--"BELIEVE."

And with the father and daughter were again the four brothers. When
the green leaf fell upon the bosom of each, a longing for home had
seized them, and led them back. They had arrived. The birds of
passage, and the stag, the antelope, and all the creatures of the
forest followed them, for all wished to have a part in their joy.

We have often seen, where a sunbeam bursts through a crack in the door
into the dusty room, how a whirling column of dust seems circling
round; but this was not poor and insignificant like common dust, for
even the rainbow is dead in colour compared with the beauty which
showed itself. Thus, from the leaf of the book with the beaming word
"_Believe_," arose every grain of truth, decked with the charms of
_the beautiful_ and _the good_, burning brighter than the mighty
pillar of flame that led Moses and the children of Israel through the
desert; and from the word "_Believe_" the bridge of _Hope_ arose,
spanning the distance, even to the immeasurable love in the realms of
the Infinite.

THE BUTTERFLY.

The Butterfly wished for a bride; and, as may be imagined, he wanted
to select a very pretty one from among the flowers; therefore he threw
a critical glance at all the flower-beds, and found that every flower
sat quietly and demurely on her stalk, just as a maiden ought to sit,
before she is engaged; but there were a great many of them, and the
choice threatened to become wearisome. The Butterfly did not care to
take much trouble, and consequently he flew off on a visit to the
daisies. The French call this floweret "Marguerite," and they know
that Marguerite can prophecy, when lovers pluck off its leaves, and
ask of every leaf they pluck some question conce