again, for she was afraid if Jack should see her when he came to clean the deck, that he would seize and cook her for his breakfast. So she begged me to give her a lift over the side of the ship."

"I will, my heartie,' said I, ' but in return for making the night so short with your pretty talk, I want to give you a word of advice.'

"O yes, by all means,' said the fish, fluttering her fin a little, by way of a courtesy,' what is it?'

"When the time comes for you to go back to the old giant, don't seize the scepter again, for it is an ugly, heavy, old thing, and you will stagger under it, and it would be a sorry sight if it should trip you up before your subjects and throw you flat upon the ground. But if you are indeed a princess and no sham, your rank will shine out, though you are dressed in cat skins instead of sable, and you will share the rule, for the dwarfs know who is who, and you will get rid of the trouble of the heavy scepter. Let the giant keep it if he wants a plaything, you are not a baby. Will you heed what I say?"

"Ay, ay, and thank you. I can take a hint and act upon it too. It is stupid old Krymer, whose skull is so thick, that he thinks that it is only a leaf falling when Thor's thunderbolt comes down upon it.'

"Tut, tut,' said I, 'little lady, be a little less free with your liege lord, when you speak about him.'

"Never fear, I shall remember what you say; I only want to make his ear burn once like fire with my sharp words, for turning me into a flying-fish, and then I will ever after be as mild as a May morning, and docile as a dove.'

"The little fish spread its gauzy fins, laughing as it did so, at its own merry speech, which sounded like tiny silver bells, until it darted out of sight under the water."

"Thank you, Carl, that is the funniest story you have told me yet, all but that about the mothers and their poor little babies;" and Zoë's eager glance was dimmed as it

turned upon her own world of dreams, and she was lost for the time being to the one about her.

Thus the time sped on, and even a long voyage comes to an end at last; and there was hurry and bustle on board ship again as the city of Copenhagen loomed up in the distance.

To Zoë, accustomed as she was to the perennial verdure of her own sunny isle and to the low style of architecture which its exposure to hurricanes rendered necessary, the sight of the brown earth, the leafless trees (for it was now March), the high buildings and tall steeples, was a great subject of amusement. She knelt upon her berth to look out of her port-hole, as it was too cold to stay on deck, while Norna, the servant of Mrs. Heiliger, packed her trunk and dressed her in readiness to go to the city. When she was arrayed to the girl's mind, Zoë took her hand to go and bid that poor invalid good-by, as the lady would immediately take a carriage to ride ten miles to her residence in the country; her mother's heart yearning to embrace her children, from whom she had been separated for six months.

She kissed the child and told her she had been a good little girl and had given her no trouble, but on the contrary, had been a great comfort to her in many little ways, and said if she was unhappy in her school or wanted any aid, she must let her know it, and that in the summer (if she were living, and she sighed) she should come out and spend her vacation with her own little girls, Adelgunda and Freya.

Zoë, impelled out of her accustomed timidity and reserve, flung her arms around her neck begging her, as she did so, to take her with her.

"Not now, my child, you know your father's wish was that you should be taken directly to Miss Ingemann's, and it will be easier for you to be left among strangers now

than if you first went home with us. You will go cheerfully, dear, will you not?"

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded her head by way of assent, and ran to get Nanny.

That grave individual now had its beauty set off by the addition to its wardrobe of an old sack of her own, the sleeves projecting each side like budding wings. She had insisted that she must suffer from the cold, as they came into higher latitudes, and in this she was probably right, as the Santa Cruzian goats have scarcely a sufficient modicum of hair, it would seem, for home use much less for colder regions. Nature is not negligent in adapting her children's supplies to their needs, yet she has for so many ages accustomed herself to do her work in her own quiet, moderate way, that she is hardly up to our fast times, when steam transports us from the extreme heat of one climate to the no less extreme cold of another before she has time to get her manufacturing apparatus in order to suit the conflicting demands upon her.

Zoë was leading Nanny across the deck when she met Rolf, one of the ship's apprentices, a lad of seventeen, who, as boys are very apt to do, expressed the interest which he really felt in her by teazing her on every possible occasion. He found an especial charm in this entertainment, as Zoë was inclined to take very literally all his jokes and absurdities.

She was, moreover, rather irritable, and when thus fretted, would disown all friendship with him, then and forevermore, at least two or three times a day only to return soon to be better friends than ever.

"What are you going to do with your goat, Zoë?” said he.

"I am going to take her to Miss Ingemann's with me," said the child.

"Going to school is she? hey! I doubt if with all the

old lady's teaching she gets her beyond ba-a-a-a!" imitating her bleating to perfection.

"She is not going to school," said she indignantly; "she is going to play with me and give me milk."

"There is no room for goats up there, you silly child, unless you can make a crib for her in your bandbox," said Rolf.

She was going to retort again, but for the first time it flashed into her mind that he might be right, and that she should have to give her up. She looked anxiously at him and said:

"What must I do with her, then?"

"O! throw her overboard; let her go to Loke's (the devil's) kingdom. She is one of his people anyway, you know."

"You naughty, wicked boy!" said Zoë, stamping her foot. "It is no such thing. She is a great deal better than you are;" and with that she quickened her pace to reach the captain, whom she saw in advance of her. She asked him, with a very downcast look, if she should have to leave Nanny behind with that ugly old Rolf, who would throw her into the sea to live with Loke.

"O no! my little girl," said the kind-hearted captain, "she shall have no such dreadful fate as that. How should you like to have me carry her to my country place, where my little girls will take good care of her, until you come in the summer to visit them?"

Zoë was delighted, and on those terms was reconciled to parting with her pet, with whom, however, she took most sentimental leave, murmuring over her every imaginable term of endearment and promise of everlasting remembrance; and then went back to triumph over Rolf for Nanny's happy fortune. He soon found means to appease her wrath, and, although two or three times in as many minutes, he nearly provoked it again by his quips and cranks at her expense; yet, at the last, they exchanged

keepsakes, and wished that they could both go back to Santa Cruz together.

Over Carl's rough shoulders she threw the ribbon with which she had adorned Nanny in her gala hours, and told him to wear it when he went to Valhalla; and if he were ever so old and gray she should know him by that, and she would come and sit by him to listen to his stories. Good Carl!