over this vast assemblage of
devoted friends.

"My people," she commenced, "as I promised, I have called you from
your sylvan abodes to impart what I have too long concealed. It has
been known to myself alone that the period for our allotted stay upon
earth has almost expired. In a short time we must go, forever, from
these scenes of pleasure--from these woody retreats where we have
known so many joys. Our places will soon be taken by the sons of men.
It is our fate that when they come we must disappear. Through all our
lives we have done nothing but waste our time in pursuit of mere
pleasure, hastening the time of our banishment and doing good to no
one. Like the bees, fluttering from flower to flower, we will have
sipped the sweets of life and left no mark that we ever existed. It is
my wish ere we go, that we do something by which we may be remembered.

"Let us bestow upon mankind a gift so great that it shall last them
forever, and which they may enjoy and bless us for to the end of time.
Such a gift is within our reach, but we have never sought it for
ourselves."

With one voice they said--

"What shall it be? The will of our queen is our pleasure."

"I was sure of it," she said. "Now listen: It is known to us all that
within this very mountain the purest waters are imprisoned. But we can
release them; these crystal streams must be set free from their
subterranean channels and brought sparkling to the surface."

They all bowed obedience, and asked when this great task should be
commenced.

"Let the preparation for this arduous undertaking go forward," she
said, "now while the summer is with us. Waste not the time; let our
whole people be employed in making instruments suitable for breaking
the crust which confines the treasure we are going to bring forth for
the benefit of mankind. We must hasten to our work and be diligent. I
dismiss you, but assemble again when next the dreary winter is past
and the genial sun warms the buds into leaflets--when the upland rills
have found their voices once more, and come leaping from their hidden
birthplaces."

The gentle summer had passed, the winter had again come and gone, and
the troops were gathering in response to the command of their
mistress. They had been industrious. Each came armed with a stout
staff, made from the toughest wood and shod with the hardest flint. In
myriads they arrived--whole armies of them--and eagerly awaited the
command to go forward. They