mmense
shadow; and a darkly beaming body stood in the sky. One could easily
distinguish objects, because each figure exhibited a peculiar shade of
black, and cast behind a pale glimmer; light and shade seemed to have
changed their respective offices. Fable rejoiced to find herself in a
new world. She regarded everything with childish curiosity. At length
she reached the door, before which upon a massive pedestal reclined a
beautiful Sphinx.

"What dost thou seek?" said the Sphinx.

"My possession," replied Fable.

"Whence comest thou hither?"

"From olden times."

"Thou art yet a child."

"And will be a child forever."

"Who wilt assist thee?"

"I will assist myself. Where are my sisters?" asked Fable.

"Everywhere, and yet nowhere," answered the Sphinx.

"Dost thou know me?"

"Not as yet."

"Where is Love?"

"In the imagination."

"And Sophia?"

The Sphinx murmured inaudibly to itself, and rustled its wings.

"Sophia and Love!" cried Fable triumphantly, and passed the door. She
stepped into an immense cave, and joyfully reached the aged sisters,
who were pursuing their wonderful occupation, by the poor light of a
dimly burning lamp. They seemed not to notice their little guest, who
busily hovered around them with artless caresses. At last one of them
with a crabbed face roughly rebuked her.

"What wouldst thou here, idler? Who has admitted thee? Thy childish
steps disturb the quiet flame. The oil is burning to waste. Canst thou
not be seated, and occupy thyself usefully?"

"Beautiful aunt," said Fable, "I am no idler. But I cannot help
laughing at your door-keeper. She would have taken me to her breast;
but seemed to have eaten too much to rise. Let me sit before the door,
and give me something to spin. I cannot see well here; and when I am
spinning I must be suffered to sing and talk, which might disturb your
serious cogitations."

"Thou shalt not go outside; but through a cleft of the rock a beam from
the upper world pierces into a side-chamber, there thou mayest spin if
thou knowest how. Here lie great heaps of old ends, spin them together.
But have a care; for if thou spin lazily or break the threads, they
will wind round and choke thee."

The old woman laughed maliciously and resumed her labor. Fable gathered
up an armful of the threads, took distaff and spindle, and tripped
singing into the chamber. She looked out through the cleft, and saw the
constellation of Phoenix. Rejoicing at t