s, that our lots should be reversed. I would not have
Adelpha Leisler drain the cup of bitterness, as I have done; but we must
change our subject, for, see there, Adelpha and Alice Corey are coming."

He looked up and saw the two near at hand.

Alice Corey was a bright-eyed girl of fourteen, a niece of Goody Nurse
who had been accused of witchcraft. She was a girl of a light and happy
disposition, and, as yet, cares sat lightly on her brow.

"Watching the sunset, are you?" said Adelpha, breathless with rapid
walking.

"We have been," answered Charles.

"Well, it is a pretty thing to see, and I wish he would always be
setting," declared Alice Corey.

"A child's wish," answered Adelpha. "What would become of your flowers?"

"I am sure I don't know. I do so love that red tinge over there, just
where it touches the gray."

"It is somewhat like that queer sea-shell which Cora showed me
yesterday," said Adelpha. "What splendid paints these mermaids must use,
down in their deep sea-caves! It is a kind that does not rub off with
wetting. The shells are their pink saucers."

"What! Do they really paint?" cried the credulous Alice.

Charles Stevens laughed softly and answered:

"No, child. You must not believe such stories. I will tell you a
prettier one if you'll listen."

"Oh, I'll listen!" cried Alice, who, like all children, was ever ready
to give ears to a story. Charles began:

"Once upon a time, long before Adam and Eve lived, I believe it was,
while the earth was young, there lived on it a fair, radiant maiden,
sweeter than the breath of fresh-blown roses and more lustrous than the
morning star. All the world was her own paradise, and she traversed it
as she chose, finding everywhere trees bearing golden fruit, which never
turned to ashes, flowers in perpetual bloom, fountains that bubbled and
birds that sang in the linden groves, all for her. Nothing was forbidden
her. No cares, no fears, or griefs marred her pleasures; for she had no
law to consult but her own wishes. When she would eat, the trees bent
down their boughs, and whispered, 'Choose my fruit.' When she would
listen, the birds vied with each other in their melodies. When she
would walk, the green sod was proud to bear her, and, when weary, the
gentlest flower-laden zephyrs soothed her to rest. Thus she might have
remained always happy; but one day she chanced to see herself in the
water, and she thought how every thing else was double. Then she