ory backward and forward, and forward and backward,
from beginning to end, until Conal knew it by heart.

Then Conal said to himself, "I will go to the hollow tree and dance for
the elves; but I shall not be so foolish as Donal. I will take their
gold and silver, and their diamonds, too."

That night Conal went to the hollow tree and waited until the elves
appeared. Then he crept out and watched them dance. And he said, just as
Donal had, "Well, that's the worst dancing I have ever seen!"

The fairies were astonished and angry again, and again they all began to
talk at once.

"Another man among us!" cried one.

"Let us hang him!" cried another.

"Cut off his head!" cried a third.

But the queen said, "Leave it to me."

Then she called Conal to her. Now Conal did not know where to wear his
smile, you remember; he always kept it in his pocket. So he went up to
the queen with a very sour face.

The queen said to him, as she had to Donal, "You say our dancing is the
worst you have ever seen. Now, show us that you can do better."

Conal began to dance, and he could dance well. The elves were delighted.
They clapped their hands and asked him to dance again, but he said
roughly, "No, that is enough. Do you expect me to dance all night?"

The elves were silent then, and the queen's face was stern. But she was
a just queen, and she said, "You have danced well. Will you have some of
our silver?"

"Yes," said Conal, without a word of thanks; and he filled his coat
pockets.

"Will you have gold?" asked the queen.

"Yes," said Conal greedily, as he filled the pockets in his trousers.

"Will you have some of our diamonds?" the queen asked, and her face was
dark with anger.

"Yes, yes," cried Conal.

"You shall not have them, you greedy lad!" cried the queen; "you shall
have nothing."

Just then a cloud passed across the moon, and the elves vanished.

"Oh, well," said Conal, "I have the gold and silver."

He plunged his hands into his pockets and lo! the gold and silver had
turned to stones. Then Conal went home a sadder and a wiser lad.

--IRISH TALE.

[Illustration: A bird singing]

WHO TOLD THE NEWS?

Oh, the sunshine told the bluebird,
And the bluebird told the brook,
That the dandelions were peeping
From the woodland's sheltered nook.

Then the brook was blithe and happy,
And it babbled all the way,
As it ran to tell the river
Of the coming of the May.

Soon