om earth the fairy name.'"

"Steam engines and locomotives?" said Louis.

"Nothing else," replied Ellen. "I do not doubt in the least that the
whole of that Fairy Wood has been carefully surveyed and graded, and
iron tracks run directly through the palace itself."

"Oh what a shame!" cried Harry.

"'Tis very sad, indeed, to have all romance spoiled in this way," said
Mrs. Wyndham. "But we have a modern substitute for the magic of
Elfdom--this very steam-engine, which works such wonders; the electric
telegraph, which beats time itself, making news depart from Philadelphia
for St. Louis, and reach its destination an hour before it started, if
you may believe the clock. And some of those toys, originally invented
by the Fairy Queen, if we may credit Ellen--the telescope, bringing down
the moon so near to you, that you feel inclined to take a long step, and
place yourself in another planet--and photography, which enables you in
one moment to possess upon metal or paper an exact fac-simile of your
friend. If these things do not surpass all we read of in Fairy Land, I
know nothing about it."

"I have one very serious objection to your Fairy Queen, Cousin Ellen,"
said Charlie Bolton, trying to keep a long, sober face.

"What is that? Poor Queen, how she is criticised! If she were here, she
would show her temper now, I think!"

"She is such a horrid _blue_. It's all very well for her to dance, and
mix the rainbow, and sprinkle the dew upon her flowers, and wear the
evening star on her forehead, if she does not find its weight
oppressive--that's all feminine enough. But when she tries to come over
us as an _esprit fort_--a strong-minded woman--it's rather too much.
Oxygen and hydrogen, and all the _ologies_--I never can stand that sort
of thing in a woman."

"Just as if we had not a right to knowledge as well as the lords of the
creation! And besides, I want to know, Master Charlie, which is the most
disgusting--for a woman to lisp learning, or for a man to talk politics,
as the creatures will do!"

"Oh, I beg your pardon--I very humbly retract, my dear Coz. I must use
the words of that sensible 'Coon, who has earned immortality by meeting
his death like a philosopher--'Is that you, Captain Scott?' 'Yes.' 'Then
you need not fire--don't take the trouble to raise your rifle--if it's
you, Captain Scott, I might as well come down.' So, if it's you, Miss
Cornelia Wyndham, you can spare your shot, for I'll come down at
on