ague in Holland. There, what look
like tiny glass tumblers holding floating wicks, are fastened to the
trunks of the fine old trees, at intervals of sufficient distance to
make the light and shade mysterious, and to give effect to the full
blaze when you reach the spot where hanging chains of lamps illuminate
the 'Pavilion' and the open space where the band plays, and where the
townsfolk assemble by hundreds to drink coffee and enjoy the music. I
was the more reminded of the Dutch 'bosch' because, after wandering
some time among the lighted trees, I heard distant sounds of music, and
came at last upon a glade lit up in a similar manner, except that the
whole effect was incomparably more brilliant.

"As I stood for a moment doubting whether I should proceed, and a good
deal puzzled about the whole affair, I caught sight of a large spider
crouched up in a corner with his stomach on the ground and his knees
above his head, as some spiders do sit, and looking at me, as I
fancied, through a pair of spectacles. (About the spectacles I do not
feel sure. It may have been two of his bent legs in apparent connection
with his prominent eyes.) I thought of the beetle, and said civilly,
'Can you tell me, sir, if this is Fairyland?' The spider took off his
spectacles (or untucked his legs), and took a sideways run out of his
corner.

"'Well,' he said, 'it's a Province. The fact is, it's the Land of Lost
Toys. You haven't such a thing as a fly anywhere about you, have you?'

"'No,' I said, 'I'm sorry to say I have not.' This was not strictly
true, for I was not at all sorry; but I wished to be civil to the old
gentleman, for he projected his eyes at me with such an intense (I had
almost said greedy) gaze, that I felt quite frightened.

"'How did you pass the sentries?' he inquired.

"'I never saw any,' I answered.

"'You couldn't have seen anything if you didn't see them,' he said;
'but perhaps you don't know. They're the glow-worms. Six to each tree,
so they light the road, and challenge the passers-by. Why didn't they
challenge you?'

"'I don't know,' I began, 'unless the beetle--'

"'I don't like beetles,' interrupted the spider, stretching each leg in
turn by sticking it up above him, 'all shell, and no flavour. You never
tried walking on anything of that sort, did you?' and he pointed with
one leg to a long thread that fastened a web above his head.

"'Certainly not,' said I.

"'I'm afraid it wouldn't bear you,' he ob