child dreamed on. Once she heard the glad song of the
Hyperboreans:--

"I come from a land in the sun-bright deep,
Where golden gardens glow;
Where the winds of the North, becalmed in sleep,
Their conch-shells never blow."

She clapped her hands, murmuring to herself,--

"_There_ is my home! I think I remember now it _was_ 'a land in the
sun-bright deep!'"

So, when she journeyed with her parents to distant countries, she
always hoped that some ship would bear her away to the Happy Isles;
and when they once touched a bright shore, and some one cried, "The
isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!" she thought she was home at
last, and hardly dared look at the remembered shore. But, alas, she
had not yet reached the Summer-land: this was not her home.

Then she heard her father say that the jewels she wore had been
brought up from the deep places under the earth.

"I wonder I had not thought of that," she said to herself. "Since
there are such beautiful gems in my lost home, it must lie under the
earth. No doubt if I could only find the right cave, and walk in it
far enough, I should come to the Summer-land."

So she set out, one day, in wild haste, but only lost herself in a
deep cavern; and, when she found daylight again, she was all alone
upon the face of the earth. Her father and mother were nowhere to be
seen. She shouted their names, and ran to and fro seeking them till
her strength was all spent. It was growing dark; and Little One could
only creep under a shelter, and weep herself asleep.

Next morning it was no better, but far worse. Her wretched parents had
gone home, believing her drowned in the sea. Poor Little One was now
all alone in the world, and her heart ached with the cold. Kind
friends gave her food and shelter, and her clothing was warm as warm
could be; still her heart ached with the cold. People praised her
beauty so much that she dared not look up to let them see how lovely
she was; but she had lost both her father and mother, and her heart
ached and ached. She thought winter was coming on; and the world was
growing so chilly, that now she must certainly set out for the
Summer-land. Then she said,--

"If I am a sylphid, perhaps my home is over the hills, and far away.
Yes: I think it must be in the country where the music goes."

For she thought, when she heard music, that it seemed to hover and
float over the earth, and lose itself in the sky; so she began to set
he