ore it
patiently and kindly when they did not understand. But by-and-by the
other king, who had no good tutor to help him, had got his armies
together, and conquered ever so many people, and drawn off their men to
be soldiers; and now he attacked the good prince, and was so strong that
he gained the victory, though both prince and subjects fought manfully
with heart and hand; but the battle was lost, and the faithful prince
wounded and made prisoner, but bearing it most patiently, till he was
dragged behind the other's triumphal car with all the rest, when the
three years were up, to be presented to Vana Gloria. And so he was
carried into the forest, bleeding and wounded, and his enemy drove the
car over his body, and stretched out his arms to Vana Gloria, and found
her a vain, ugly wretch, who grew frightful as soon as he grasped her.
But the good dying prince saw the beautiful beamy face of his lady--love
bending over him. 'Oh!' he said, 'vision of my life, hast thou come to
lighten my dying eyes? Never--never, even in my best days, did I deem
that I could be worthy of thee; the more I strove, the more I knew that
Gloria is for none below--for me less than all.'

"And then the lady came and lifted him up, and she said, 'Gloria is
given to all who do and suffer truly in a good cause, for faithfulness
is glory, and that is thine.'"

Ethel's language had become more flowing as she grew more eager in the
tale, and they all listened with suspended interest. Norman asked
where she got the story. "Out of an old French book, the 'Magazin des
enfans,'" was the answer.

"But why did you alter the end?" said Flora, "why kill the poor man? He
used to be prosperous, why not?"

"Because I thought," said Ethel, "that glory could not properly belong
to any one here, and if he was once conscious of it, it would be all
spoiled. Well, Meta, do you guess?"

"Oh! the word! I had forgotten all about it. I think I know what it must
be, but I should so like another story. May I not have one?" said Meta
coaxingly. "Mary, it is you."

Mary fell back on her papa, and begged him to take hers. Papa told the
best stories of all, she said, and Meta looked beseeching.

"My story will not be as long as Ethel's," said the doctor, yielding
with a half-reluctant smile. "My story is of a humming-bird, a little
creature that loved its master with all its strength, and longed to do
somewhat for him. It was not satisfied with its lot, because it see