188 BEYOND THE BLUE MOUNTAINS.

by a sweet sound, which caused him to sit up in bed and look
inquiringly round him. The casement window was a very little
open—the sun was shining over everything outside, and a white dove
with a gold ring round its neck was perched on the foot of Buttercup’s
bed, and was cooing softly, and looking at him with its gentle
brown eyes. | :

“The Prince has come! the Prince has come!” exclaimed the
child. He started up with a cry of rapture, and opened his arms to
the dove ; it flew straight into them, and rubbed its soft head against
the little boy’s cheek.

“T must put on my clothes and go downstairs at once,” he
exclaimed. “Oh, my darling white dove, my beauty! how glad, how
very glad I am to see you!”

The dove flew once more to perch itself on the foot of Buttercup’s
bed; and he hurriedly put on the simple white dress which he, like
all the other children in Summer Land, wore.

The dove cooed all the time he was dressing, and when he went
downstairs it flew after him, and perched on his shoulder.

The flowers in the gardens were blooming this morning as though
they had never bloomed before. There was a freshness about them,
a sort of dewy look, an absence of all withered and faded flowers,
which Buttercup, notwithstanding his present great joy and excite-
ment, could not help noticmg. The summer air was not only filled
with the scent of the flowers, but it was also filled with the
sweet songs of many birds; they perched on the branches of the
trees, and sent forth whole volumes of melody out of their full
throats.

When the dove on Buttercup’s shoulder heard the other birds
singing, he cooed more softly and sweetly than ever, and rubbed his
head once more against the little boy’s cheek.

Presently other children came out of the many houses, and joined
Buttercup where he stood. ach child was now the happy possessor
of a tame bird. Some had robins, some thrushes, some nightingales,
some swallows, but Buttercup noticed that now and then a child
appeared who walked slowly, as though under a kind of solemn weight