d, and no divine melody
haunted the brain, beyond the powers even of a Stradivarius to lure from
its shadowy realm?

Nils walked home that night plunged in deep meditation. He vowed to
himself that he would never more try to catch the Nixy's strain. But the
next day, when he seized the violin, there it was again, and, strive as
he might, he could not forbear trying to catch it.

Wise Nils is many years older now; has a good wife and several children,
and is a happy man; but to this day, resolve as he will, he has never
been able to abandon the effort to catch the Nixy's strain. Sometimes he
thinks he has half caught it, but when he tries to play it, it is always
gone.

THE WONDER CHILD

I.

A very common belief in Norway, as in many other lands, is that the
seventh child of the seventh child can heal the sick by the laying on
of hands. Such a child is therefore called a wonder child. Little Carina
Holt was the seventh in a family of eight brothers and sisters, but she
grew to be six years old before it became generally known that she was a
wonder child. Then people came from afar to see her, bringing their sick
with them; and morning after morning, as Mrs. Holt rolled up the shades,
she found invalids, seated or standing in the snow, gazing with devout
faith and anxious longing toward Carina's window.

It seemed a pity to send them away uncomforted, when the look and the
touch cost Carina so little. But there was another fear that arose in
the mother's breast, and that was lest her child should be harmed by the
veneration with which she was regarded, and perhaps come to believe that
she was something more than a common mortal. What was more natural than
that a child who was told by grown-up people that there was healing in
her touch, should at last come to believe that she was something apart
and extraordinary?

It would have been a marvel, indeed, if the constant attention she
attracted, and the pilgrimages that were made to her, had failed to make
any impression upon her sensitive mind. Vain she was not, and it would
have been unjust to say that she was spoiled. She had a tender nature,
full of sympathy for sorrow and suffering. She was constantly giving
away her shoes, her stockings, nay, even her hood and cloak, to poor
little invalids, whose misery appealed to her merciful heart. It was
of no use to scold her; you could no more prevent a stream from flowing
than Carina from giving. It was a spo