uneral hymns were, and yet he got one that referred
to the grave and death. But then he thought this was not a thing in
which one must believe; for all that he was startled when soon
afterwards the pretty little girl had to lie in bed, and the
doctor's carriage stopped at the gate every day.

"They will not keep her with them," said the porter's wife. "The
good God knows whom He will summon to Himself."

But they kept her after all; and George drew pictures and sent
them to her. He drew the Czar's palace; the old Kremlin at Moscow,
just as it stood, with towers and cupolas; and these cupolas looked
like gigantic green and gold cucumbers, at least in George's
drawing. Little Emily was highly pleased, and consequently, when a
week had elapsed, George sent her a few more pictures, all with
buildings in them; for, you see, she could imagine all sorts of things
inside the windows and doors.

He drew a Chinese house, with bells hanging from every one of
sixteen stories. He drew two Grecian temples with slender marble
pillars, and with steps all round them. He drew a Norwegian church. It
was easy to see that this church had been built entirely of wood, hewn
out and wonderfully put together; every story looked as if it had
rockers, like a cradle. But the most beautiful of all was the
castle, drawn on one of the leaves, and which he called "Emily's
Castle." This was the kind of place in which she must live. That is
what George had thought, and consequently he had put into this
building whatever he thought most beautiful in all the others. It
had carved wood-work, like the Norwegian church; marble pillars,
like the Grecian temple; bells in every story; and was crowned with
cupolas, green and gilded, like those of the Kremlin of the Czar. It
was a real child's castle, and under every window was written what the
hall or the room inside was intended to be; for instance: "Here
Emily sleeps;" "Here Emily dances;" "Here Emily plays at receiving
visitors." It was a real pleasure to look at the castle, and right
well was the castle looked at accordingly.

"Charming!" said the General.

But the old Count--for there was an old Count there, who was still
grander than the General, and had a castle of his own--said nothing at
all; he heard that it had been designed and drawn by the porter's
little son. Not that he was so very little, either, for he had already
been confirmed. The old Count looked at the pictures, and had his
own though