d there
he sang many a magical song, for he said to himself, "I have no diver
who can go to the bed of the sea, but often magic will do what a diver
cannot."

The king of the world under the water owned the beautiful vase, but when
he heard the songs, he knew that he must give it up. "Take it," he said
to the spirits that live in the deepest water. "Bear it to the king of
India. The spirits of the air will try to take it from you, but see that
it goes safely to the king whose magic has called it from the sea."

The spirits of the sea rose from the waves bearing the precious vase.

"It is ours, it is ours," cried the spirits of the air. "The king of
India shall never have it." The spirits of the air and the spirits of
the water fought together. "What a fearful storm!" cried the people on
the earth. "See how the lightning shoots across the sky, and hear the
thunder roll from mountain to mountain!" They hid themselves in terror,
but it was no storm, it was only the spirits fighting for the emerald
vase.

One of the spirits of the air bore it at last far up above the top of
the highest mountain. "It is mine," he cried. "Never," said a spirit of
the water, and he caught it and threw it angrily against the rocky top
of the mountain. It fell in hundreds of pieces.

There was no vase like it in the east or the west, the north or the
south, and so the king of India never had an emerald vase; but from the
pieces of the vase that was thrown against the mountain came all the
emeralds that are now on the earth.

WHY THE EVERGREEN TREES NEVER LOSE THEIR LEAVES.

Winter was coming, and the birds had flown far to the south, where the
air was warm and they could find berries to eat. One little bird had
broken its wing and could not fly with the others. It was alone in the
cold world of frost and snow. The forest looked warm, and it made its
way to the trees as well as it could, to ask for help.

First it came to a birch-tree. "Beautiful birch-tree," it said, "my wing
is broken, and my friends have flown away. May I live among your
branches till they come back to me?"

"No, indeed," answered the birch-tree, drawing her fair green leaves
away. "We of the great forest have our own birds to help. I can do
nothing for you."

"The birch is not very strong," said the little bird to itself, "and it
might be that she could not hold me easily. I will ask the oak." So the
bird said, "Great oak-tree, you are so strong, will you