s the
river. Leo started in pursuit, giving a low whistle. Instantly it
stopped, sat upon its haunches, threw off its skin, and out stepped Paz.

"Good-evening, my dear Prince, good-evening; we are well met; just in
time to exchange Christmas greetings. I have been looking for you
lately, but you seemed always so occupied that there was no chance for
me. You have no idea how pleased Knops is to hear of your prosperity. He
has sent for me a dozen times lately merely to express his satisfaction;
and he wants me to ask a favor of you, which I know already you will
grant."

"Anything in my power, dear Paz," replied Leo, eagerly.

"Of course; and we know how good a use you make of your power. Times
are greatly changed. You are benefiting every one about you; I hear it
on all sides. We are proud to be your friends. All that Knops asks is
that in clearing up your property, and cutting down all the rank growth
of weeds, you will spare a patch of wild-flowers here and there, and all
the empty birds' nests. Leave these for the use of our children, and we
will be greatly obliged."

"But that is a mere nothing; can I in any other way serve you?" asked
Leo.

"No," said Paz, "not that I know of. I am on my way now to see some new
minerals supposed to be similar to those of the moon. I haven't much
faith in them."

"How about the diamonds?"

"Don't mention them. I shall never try my hand at those again; and you,
if you are wise, will be contented to let Nature remain her own chemist.
Adieu. A very merry Christmas to you."

"The same to you," echoed Leo, but Paz was already muffled in his furs
and running rapidly away.

PHIL'S FAIRIES

CHAPTER I

THE WIND HARP

"Oh, Lisa, how many stars there are to-night! and how long it takes to
count just a few!" said a weak voice from a little bed in a garret room.

"You will tire yourself, dear, if you try to do that; just shut your
eyes up tight, and try to sleep."

"Will you put my harp in the window? there may be a breeze after a
while, and I want to know very much if there is any music in those
strings."

"Where did you get them, my darling,"

"From Joe."

"Joe, the fiddler?"

"Yes; he brought me a handful of old catgut; he says he does not play
any more at dances; he is so old and lame that they like a younger
darkey who knows more fancy figures, and can be livelier. He _is_ very
black, Lisa, and I am almost afraid of him; but he is so kind, and he
tel