en again--indeed the
necromancer across the river who had kidnaped her was imprisoned for
life on a diet of pop-corn which he popped himself.

The King across the river became tired of pop-corn, as it had caused
his defeat, and forbade his people to eat it. He paid tribute to the
King of Romalia as long as he lived; but after his death, when his
son, the young prince, came to reign, affairs were on a very pleasant
footing between the two kingdoms. The new King was very different from
his father, being generous and amiable, and beloved by every one.
Indeed Rosetta, when she had grown to be a beautiful maiden, married
him and went to live as a Queen where she had been a captive.

And when Rosetta went across the river to live, the King, her father,
gave her some bee-hives for a wedding present, and the bees thrived
equally in both countries. All the difference in the honey was this:
in Romalia the bees fed more on clover, and the honey tasted of
clover: and in the country across the river on peppermint, and that
honey tasted of peppermint. They always had both kinds at their Bee
Festivals.

THE CHRISTMAS MONKS.

All children have wondered unceasingly from their very first Christmas
up to their very last Christmas, where the Christmas presents come
from. It is very easy to say that Santa Claus brought them. All well
regulated people know that, of course; but the reindeer, and the
sledge, and the pack crammed with toys, the chimney, and all the rest
of it--that is all true, of course, and everybody knows about it; but
that is not the question which puzzles. What children want to know is,
where do these Christmas presents come from in the first place? Where
does Santa Claus get them? Well the answer to that is, _In the garden
of the Christmas Monks_. This has not been known until very lately;
that is, it has not been known till very lately except in the
immediate vicinity of the Christmas Monks. There, of course, it has
been known for ages. It is rather an out-of-the-way place; and that
accounts for our never hearing of it before.

The Convent of the Christmas Monks is a most charmingly picturesque
pile of old buildings; there are towers and turrets, and peaked roofs
and arches, and everything which could possibly be thought of in the
architectural line, to make a convent picturesque. It is built of
graystone; but it is only once in a while that you can see the
graystone, for the walls are almost completely