scued the blue stocking, with its
treasures unharmed, even to the precious watch, which watch was Martha
Moulton's chief treasure, and one of very few in the town.

Martha Moulton was the heroine of the day. The house was beseiged by
admiring men and women that night and for two or three days thereafter;
but when, years later, she being older, and poorer, even to want,
petitioned the General Court for a reward for the service she rendered
in persuading Major Pitcairn to save the court-house from burning, there
was granted to her only fifteen dollars, a poor little forget-me-not, it
is true, but JUST ENOUGH to carry her story down the years, whereas, but
for that, it might never have been wafted up and down the land.

Sweep, sweep, sweep! Up all this dirt and dust,
For Mamma is busy today and help her I surely must.
Everything now is spick and span; away to my play I will run.
It will be such a 'sprise to Mamma to find all this work is done.

THE CONQUEST OF FAIRYLAND.

There reigned a king in the land of Persia, mighty and
great was he grown,
On the necks of the kings of the conquered earth he builded up
his throne.

There sate a king on the throne of Persia; and he was grown so
proud
That all the life of the world was less to him than a passing
cloud.

He reigned in glory: joy and sorrow lying between his hands.
If he sighed a nation shook, his smile ripened the harvest of
lands.

He was the saddest man beneath the everlasting sky,
For all his glories had left him old, and the proudest king must
die.

He who was even as God to all the nations of men,
Must die as the merest peasant dies, and turn into earth again.

And his life with the fear of death was bitter and sick and
accursed,
As brackish water to drink of which is to be forever athirst.

The hateful years rolled on and on, but once it chanced at noon
The drowsy court was thrilled to gladness, it echoed so sweet a
tune.

Low as the lapping of tile sea, as the song of the lark is
clear, Wild as the moaning of pine branches; the king was fain
to hear.

"What is the song, and who is the singer?" he said; "before
the throne
Let him come, for the songs of the world are mine, and all but
this are known."

Seven mighty kings went out the minstrel man to find:
And all they found was a dead cyprus soughing in the wind.