THE LAND OF THE MID-DAY MOON. 175

“ With patience great, from grains of sand
Was made the great and mighty land.
Shouldst thou refuse, here must thou stay,
So says the little man in gray.”

Wassa pondered over these words spoken by
the unknown voice. It was evident that the
powerful little gray man had made up his mind
that she should find the fairy prince, and she
had already learned that it was useless to resist
the powers in Fairyland; so she at once began
to pick out the little specks of gold and lay
them in a pile.

The task was a tedious one, but, as the
golden pile grew, Wassa’s courage grew in
proportion, and before long the task was
ended.

Then Wassa walked under the lofty arches,
until she came toa clear lake, and beyond it
the arches still stretched. In the far distance
was dimly seen an ocean, whose waters glis-
tened in the beams of the mid-day moon, and
shone like emeralds.

“The mermaids must be there,” thought
Wassa, “but how am I to cross this lake?”

“ Dost thou not see the flowers that bloom
In the soft light of the mid-day moon?