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of fern within a few yards of the place where his mother had last seen
him. He was perfectly well, quite happy, and entirely ignorant of the
length of time that had elapsed. And he had a wonderful story to tell.

While picking the flowers, he said, he had heard a bird singing in more
beautiful tones than any he had heard before. Going into the wood to
see what strange songster this was, the sound changed to most wonderful
music which compelled him to follow it. Thus lured onward he came at
length to the edge of an enchanted lake, and he noticed that night had
fallen but that the sky was ablaze with huge stars. Then more stars
rose up all around him, and, looking, he saw that each was in reality a
pisky. These small people formed themselves into a procession, singing
strange fascinating songs the while, and under the leadership of one who
was more brilliant and more beautiful than the rest they led the boy
through their dwelling place. This, he said, was like a palace. Crystal
pillars supported arches hung with jewels which glistened with every
colour of the rainbow. Far more wonderful, the child said, were the
crystals than any he had seen in a Cornish mine.

The piskies were very kind to him, and seemed to enjoy his wonder and
astonishment at their gorgeous cave. They gave him a fairy meal of the
purest honey spread on dainty little cakes, and when at last he grew
tired numbers of the small folk fell to work to build him a bed of
fern. Then, crowding around him, they sang him to sleep with a strange
soothing lullaby, which for the rest of his life he was always just
on the point of remembering, but which as certainly escaped him. He
remembered nothing more until he was awakened and taken home to his
parents.

The wise folk of St. Allen maintained that only a child of the finest
character ever received such honour from the small people, and that
the fact that they had shown him the secrets of their hidden dwelling
augured that for ever afterwards they would keep him under their
especial care. And so it was; the boy lived to a ripe old age and
prospered amazingly. He never knew illness or misfortune, and died
at last in his sleep; and those that were near him say that as he
breathed his last a strange music filled the room. Some say that the
piskies still haunt the woods and fields around Trefronick, but that
they only show themselves to children and grown-ups of simple, trusting
nature. Anyhow, those that wish to t