art the Source of Light--
Scatter Thou the dark night.
Shine on us! shine on us!"

Effie said the words over, and the voice said again "If you sing them
with the song of the sea-maidens you will understand them better." Then
Effie fell asleep, just as they came again to the open window and she
knew nothing more till she was waked by her mother calling out--

"Effie, child! wake up! the sun was up long ago! come! come!"

Effie started up. It was broad daylight. Her father was out-doors,
looking after his nets, and her mother was getting the table ready for
breakfast. She dressed herself quickly, saying over in mind the words
just taught her. Then she recollected that she could understand them
better if she sang the song of the sea. So she said that to herself
also.

"Do you go and get some water to put in the kettle, Effie," said her
mother.

"Yes, mother," said she, and as she went she sang to herself--

"Work, hands! Love, heart!
Every one here has his part."

"Good-morning, little one," said her father, meeting her in the
door-way; "here's a bright day for your new year!"

"Isn't it!" said Effie, giving him a kiss and then singing--

"Praise to thee! Praise to thee;
Thou art all Purity.
Thou art the Source of Light."

"I believe the child's going to be a good girl, wife," said Father
Gilder, coming into the house.

"Well, I hope she is, for she's been sulky enough before this," said
Mother Gilder.

"True, true," replied he, "but sulky birds don't sing."

The year went slowly by. Effie sang the two songs as she worked, and
helped her mother and was a comfort to her father. Every morning when
she got up, she sang the Song of the Mountain, and through the day she
kept singing, too, the Song of the Sea. Very often she thought of the
old man, and wondered what she should ask for the third and last time he
came. She thought she ought to ask for the best thing she could think
of, but for a long time she could not make up her mind, until a few days
before her birth-day, as she was singing the two songs. Then was she
impatient for the day to come, that she might ask her last and great
wish.

Wish the Third.--In the Cottage.

[Illustration]

The eighth birth-day came at last, but before the sun was to set, Mrs.
Gilder called her. "Here, Effie," said she, "I want you to go down cellar
before it is dark, and sweep it clean. It's dreadfully dirty."

"Must I go now, mother?"

"Yes,