man's household, and when the psalm was ended, they nodded and
said, "Thou didst well to come, Karen!"

"This is mercy," said she. "It is the grace of God."

The organ pealed, and the chorus of children's voices mingled sweetly
with it. The bright sunshine shed its warm light, through the windows,
over the pew in which Karen sat. Her heart was so filled with sunshine,
peace, and joy that it broke, and her soul was borne by a sunbeam up to
God, where there was nobody to ask about the red shoes.

[Illustration]

THE LITTLE MERMAID

FAR out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest
cornflower and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep; so deep,
indeed, that no cable could sound it, and many church steeples, piled
one upon another, would not reach from the ground beneath to the surface
of the water above. There dwell the Sea King and his subjects.

We must not imagine that there is nothing at the bottom of the sea but
bare yellow sand. No, indeed, for on this sand grow the strangest
flowers and plants, the leaves and stems of which are so pliant that the
slightest agitation of the water causes them to stir as if they had
life. Fishes, both large and small, glide between the branches as birds
fly among the trees here upon land.

In the deepest spot of all stands the castle of the Sea King. Its walls
are built of coral, and the long Gothic windows are of the clearest
amber. The roof is formed of shells that open and close as the water
flows over them. Their appearance is very beautiful, for in each lies a
glittering pearl which would be fit for the diadem of a queen.

The Sea King had been a widower for many years, and his aged mother kept
house for him. She was a very sensible woman, but exceedingly proud of
her high birth, and on that account wore twelve oysters on her tail,
while others of high rank were only allowed to wear six.

She was, however, deserving of very great praise, especially for her
care of the little sea princesses, her six granddaughters. They were
beautiful children, but the youngest was the prettiest of them all. Her
skin was as clear and delicate as a rose leaf, and her eyes as blue as
the deepest sea; but, like all the others, she had no feet and her body
ended in a fish's tail. All day long they played in the great halls of
the castle or among the living flowers that grew out of the walls. The
large amber windows were open, and the fish swam in, just as the