t hurry to comfort you. Only
let me have some fresh air, and you shall soon see that matters are
not quite so dismal as you think them!"

"Epimetheus," exclaimed Pandora, "come what may, I am resolved to open
the box!"

"And as the lid seems very heavy," cried Epimetheus, running across
the room, "I will help you!"

So, with one consent, the two children again lifted the lid. Out flew
a sunny and smiling little personage, and hovered about the room,
throwing a light wherever she went. Have you never made the sunshine
dance into dark corners, by reflecting it from a bit of looking-glass?
Well, so looked the winged cheerfulness of this fairy-like stranger,
amid the gloom of the cottage. She flew to Epimetheus, and laid the
least touch of her finger on the inflamed spot where the Trouble had
stung him, and immediately the anguish of it was gone. Then she kissed
Pandora on the forehead, and her hurt was cured likewise.

After performing these good offices, the bright stranger fluttered
sportively over the children's heads, and looked so sweetly at them,
that they both began to think it not so very much amiss to have opened
the box, since, otherwise, their cheery guest must have been kept a
prisoner among those naughty imps with stings in their tails.

"Pray, who are you, beautiful creature?" inquired Pandora.

"I am to be called Hope!" answered the sunshiny figure. "And because I
am such a cheery little body, I was packed into the box, to make
amends to the human race for that swarm of ugly Troubles, which was
destined to be let loose among them. Never fear! we shall do pretty
well in spite of them all."

"Your wings are colored like the rainbow!" exclaimed Pandora. "How
very beautiful!"

"Yes, they are like the rainbow," said Hope, "because, glad as my
nature is, I am partly made of tears as well as smiles."

"And will you stay with us," asked Epimetheus, "forever and ever?"

"As long as you need me," said Hope, with her pleasant smile,--"and
that will be as long as you live in the world,--I promise never to
desert you. There may come times and seasons, now and then, when you
will think that I have utterly vanished. But again, and again, and
again, when perhaps you least dream of it, you shall see the glimmer
of my wings on the ceiling of your cottage. Yes, my dear children, and
I know something very good and beautiful that is to be given you
hereafter!"

"Oh, tell us," they exclaimed,--"tell us what it is!"