and the pretty houses became less and less distinct,
until there was only a faint and shadowy outline of them; then the mist
grew thicker, and each child became alarmed at finding itself separated
from all its companions, and on striving to call out it could not.
Thicker and thicker grew the mist until it was quite dark, and the
children, parted from each other, were bewildered and knew not where
they were.

Presently the mist gradually cleared away, and then, instead of Child
Island and the pretty houses, each child found itself in its own bed at
Noviland.

Eagerly that morning did they tell their fond parents of the good fairy
and Child Island, of the beautiful palace and pretty houses, of the tiny
musicians, the fairy slipper, and the strange Nomen. And as each little
tongue prattled its pretty tale, the parents smiled and said to each
other, "Truly our dear child has had a pleasant dream!"

But the children knew better; they knew there was a good fairy Corianda,
and that she had taken them to her magic isle, called Child Island.

E. HUNTER.

[Illustration: THE DEVIL'S BRIDGE. (_See page 90._)]

SCHOOL LUNCHEONS.

BY PHILLIS BROWNE, Author of "The Girl's Own Cookery Book."

The school arrangements of the present day are rather awkward for people
who are accustomed to take their meals at old-fashioned hours. When I
was a girl we used to be at school at nine in the morning, leave at
twelve-thirty, return at two-thirty, and leave again at four; and our
home lessons were a mere trifle. We went home to dinner in the middle of
the day, and there was no difficulty about "satisfying the keen demands
of appetite." But sometimes it rained unexpectedly, and on these
occasions fortune was kind to us. A few minutes before it was time to
start for home there would be a knock at the door, and a neat little
maid would appear bearing a basket, with a message from mother to the
schoolmistress, begging that we might be allowed to take dinner in the
schoolroom. Who can describe the delights of the feast? On the table
generally used for slates and copy-books the basket was solemnly opened.
We never knew what was coming, but it was certain to be good, and, best
of all, it was certain to be a surprise. First there was the snowy
napkin which was to serve as a table-cloth, then were the treasures
underneath. The glory of the experience came, however, when plates and
food were packed away, for then a "little recreation" was c