d when Jack heard that he
ran down to the river, and looked right and looked left. At last he
saw his boat,--a mere speck in the distance, it had floated so far.

He called it, but it was far beyond the reach of his voice; and Mopsa,
who had followed him, said,--

"It does not signify, Jack, for I feel that no place is the right
place for me but that country beyond the purple mountains, and I
shall never be happy unless we go there."

So they walked back towards the stone-people hand in hand, and the
apple-woman presently joined them. She was crying gently, for she knew
that she must soon pass over the little stream, and part with these
whom she called her dear children. Jack had often spoken to her that
day about going home to her own country, but she said it was too late
to think of that now, and she must end her days in the land of Faery.

The kind stone-people asked them to come and sit by their little fire;
and in the dusk the woman whose baby had slept in a stone cradle took
it up and began to sing to it. She seemed astonished when she heard
that the apple-woman had power to go home if she could make up her
mind to do it; and as she sang she looked at her with wonder and
pity.

Little babe, while burns the west,
Warm thee, warm thee in my breast;
While the moon doth shine her best,
And the dews distil not.

All the land so sad, so fair--
Sweet its toils are, blest its care.
Child, we may not enter there!
Some there are that will not.

Fain would I thy margins know,
Land of work, and land of snow;
Land of life, whose rivers flow
On, and on, and stay not.

Fain would I thy small limbs fold,
While the weary hours are told,
Little babe in cradle cold.
Some there are that may not.

"You are not exactly fairies, I suppose?" said Jack. "If you were, you
could go to our country when you pleased."

"No," said the woman; "we are not exactly fairies; but we shall be
more like them when our punishment is over."

"I am sorry you are punished," answered Jack, "for you seem very nice,
kind people."

"We were not always kind," answered the woman; "and perhaps we are
only kind now because we have no time, and no chance of being
otherwise. I'm sure I don't know about that. We were powerful once,
and we did a cruel deed. I must not tell you what it was. We were told
that our hearts were all as cold as stones,--and I suppose they
were,--and we were doomed to be stones all