ted his slender
neck, and cried rejoicingly from the depths of his heart:

"I never dreamed of so much happiness when I was still the Ugly
Duckling!"

199

One of the really successful modern attempts at
telling new fairy stories was _Granny's
Wonderful Chair_ (1857) by the blind poet
Frances Browne (1816-1887). In spite of the
obstacles due to blindness, poverty, and
ill-health, she succeeded in educating herself,
and after achieving some fame as a poet left
her mountain village in county Donegal,
Ireland, to make a literary career in Edinburgh
and London. She published many volumes of
poems, novels, and children's books. Only one
of these is now much read or remembered, but it
has taken a firm place in the affections of
children. In _Granny's Wonderful Chair_ there
are seven stories, set in an interesting
framework which tells of the adventures of the
little girl Snowflower and her chair at the
court of King Winwealth. This chair had magic
power to transport Snowflower wherever she
wished to go, like the magic carpet in the
_Arabian Nights_. When she laid down her head
and said, "Chair of my grandmother, tell me a
story," a clear voice from under the cushion
would at once begin to speak. Besides the story
that follows, two of the most satisfactory in
the collection are "The Greedy Shepherd" and
"The Story of Merrymind." Perhaps one of the
secrets of their charm is in the power of
visualization which the author possessed. The
pictures are all clear and definite, yet
touched with the glamor of fairyland.

THE STORY OF FAIRYFOOT

FRANCES BROWNE

Once upon a time there stood far away in the west country a town called
Stumpinghame. It contained seven windmills, a royal palace, a market
place, and a prison, with every other convenience befitting the capital
of a kingdom. A capital city was Stumpinghame, and its inhabitants
thought it the only one in the world. It stood in the midst of a great
plain, which for three leagues round its walls was covered with corn,
flax, and orchards. Beyond that lay a great circle of pasture land,
seven leagues in breadth, and it was bounded on all sides by a forest so
thick and old that no man in Stumpinghame knew its extent; an