ving book, sir," remarked the old farmer, with a
good-humoured laugh. "We are in the very hottest corner of Fairy Land
here. Ha! ha! Stormy night, last night, sir."

"Was it, indeed?" I rejoined. "It was not so with me. A lovelier night I
never saw." "Indeed! Where were you last night?"

"I spent it in the forest. I had lost my way."

"Ah! then, perhaps, you will be able to convince my good woman, that
there is nothing very remarkable about the forest; for, to tell the
truth, it bears but a bad name in these parts. I dare say you saw
nothing worse than yourself there?"

"I hope I did," was my inward reply; but, for an audible one, I
contented myself with saying, "Why, I certainly did see some appearances
I could hardly account for; but that is nothing to be wondered at in an
unknown wild forest, and with the uncertain light of the moon alone to
go by."

"Very true! you speak like a sensible man, sir. We have but few sensible
folks round about us. Now, you would hardly credit it, but my wife
believes every fairy-tale that ever was written. I cannot account for
it. She is a most sensible woman in everything else."

"But should not that make you treat her belief with something of
respect, though you cannot share in it yourself?"

"Yes, that is all very well in theory; but when you come to live
every day in the midst of absurdity, it is far less easy to behave
respectfully to it. Why, my wife actually believes the story of the
'White Cat.' You know it, I dare say."

"I read all these tales when a child, and know that one especially
well."

"But, father," interposed the little girl in the chimney-corner, "you
know quite well that mother is descended from that very princess who was
changed by the wicked fairy into a white cat. Mother has told me so a
many times, and you ought to believe everything she says."

"I can easily believe that," rejoined the farmer, with another fit of
laughter; "for, the other night, a mouse came gnawing and scratching
beneath the floor, and would not let us go to sleep. Your mother sprang
out of bed, and going as near it as she could, mewed so infernally like
a great cat, that the noise ceased instantly. I believe the poor mouse
died of the fright, for we have never heard it again. Ha! ha! ha!"

The son, an ill-looking youth, who had entered during the conversation,
joined in his father's laugh; but his laugh was very different from the
old man's: it was polluted with a sneer. I watche