He could see the mole digging long halls under ground. He could watch the spider as spun the silk for its curious house.

it

Rabbits were hiding their young in the long grass, and little foxes were playing by their rocky dens.

He could even see the bear's cubs curled up like balls in the hollow trunks of trees.

"Look to the north," said the fairy.

And then the happy boy looked away over

Children dressed in fur crept out of snow houses. They went dashing over the snow in sleds drawn by dogs.

Again the happy boy looked, and the wonder lands of the south lay before him. Gay flowers blossomed everywhere. Bright-colored birds found a safe home in the great forest.

He could see the lion and his mate in their home. Hundreds of monkeys played in the branches of the trees. Tigers ran through the tall grass, and huge elephants pushed their way among the trees and bushes.

Once more the happy boy looked through the Magic Windows, and oh, how wonderful!

He could see into fairy land where animals talk, and where the playthings are alive.

Oh, kind fairy, let me stay here," said the happy boy. "I can not leave this land of wonders."

Would you like to have the Magic Windows for your own?" asked the fairy. "Then listen well. When the school bell rings, it will call you to the land of books. Through the Magic Windows of your books you may see greater wonders than fairies can tell or fairy land can show."

Another day came with the rising sun. Once more the school bell rang.

Gladly the happy boy left his play, for in his books he

would find the Magic Windows.

THE LAND OF STORY BOOKS

AT evening, when the lamp is lit,
Around the fire my parents sit;
They sit at home and talk and sing,
And do not play at anything.

Now, with

my little gun, I crawl,

All in the dark along the wall,

And follow round the forest track

Away behind the sofa back.

There in the night, where none can spy,

All in my hunter's camp I lie,

And play at books that I have read,

Till it is time to go to bed.

These are the hills, these are the woods,

These are my starry solitudes;

And there the river by whose brink

The roaring lions come to drink.

I see the others far away,
As if in firelit camp they lay,
And I, like to an Indian scout,
Around their party prowled about.

So, when my nurse comes in for me,
Home I return across the sea,
And go to bed with backward looks
At my dear Land of Story Books.

O, BIG round world, O, wide, wide world,
How wonderful you are.

Your oceans are so very deep,

Your hills reach up so far;

Down through your valleys wide and green, Such mighty rivers flow;

Upon your great sky-reaching hills,

Such giant forests grow. - ALICE C. D. RILEY

By permission of John Church Company,

owners of the copyright.