life? But with Mignon it only lay heavy on her heart, and she was more weary than any child who serves all day. And after awhile this weariness grew as deep as her life, and the poet tells us that she died. We read in his strange book that they bore her to the dim hall of the Past, and that she lay there white and beautiful. Four boys clothed in blue with silver stood beside her, slowly waving white plumes. And when the people had come in and stood together very silently, the most beautiful singing voices began—

"'Whom bring ye us to the still dwelling?'"

The four boys answered:

"'Tis a tired playmate whom we bring you. Let her rest in your still dwelling. Let us weep. Let us remain with her!'"

But the sweet voices rang out,

"'Children, turn back into life! Your tears let the fresh air dry. Haste back into life! Let the day give you labor and joy, till evening bring you rest.'"

And the listening children understood.Contents

SIEGFRIED'S SILVER HORN.

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Richard Wagner.

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By F. Leeke

SIEGFRIED

THE STORY OF SIEGFRIED.

Long, long ago, before the sun learned to shine so brightly, people believed very strange things. Why, even the wisest thought storm clouds were war-maidens riding, and that a wonderful shining youth brought the springtime; and whenever sunlight streamed into the water they said to one another, "See, it is some of the shining gold, some of the magic Rhine-gold. Ah, if we should find the Rhine-gold we would be masters of the world—the whole world;" and they would stretch out their arms and look away on every side. Even little children began looking for the hidden gold as they played, and they say that Odin, a god who lived in the very deepest blue of the sky, came down and lay in the grass to watch the place where he thought it was.

Now this gold was hidden in the very deepest rocky gorge, and a dragon that everyone feared lay upon it night and day. Almost all the people in the world were wanting and seeking this gold; it really seemed sometimes that they were forgetting everything else, even the sweet message and the deed they had brought the world. Some of them went about dreaming and thinking of all the ways there were of finding it. But they seldom did anything of all they thought, so they were called the Mist-men. And there were others, who worked always, digging in the darkest caverns of the mountains, and lived underground and almost forgot the real light, watching for the glow of the gold. These were called the Earth-dwarfs, for they grew very small and black living away from the light. But there were a great many blessed ones who lived quite free and glad in the world, loving and serving one another and not thinking very much of the gold.

There was a boy whose name was Siegfried, and though he lived with an Earth-dwarf in the deep forest, he knew nothing of the magic gold or the world. He had never seen a man, and he had not known his mother, even, though he often thought of her when he stood still at evening and the birds came home. There was one thing she had left him, and that was a broken sword. Mimi, the Earth-dwarf, strove night and day to mend it, thinking he might slay the dragon. But though he worked always, it was never done, for no one who feared anything in the world could weld it, because it was an immortal blade. It had a name and a soul.

Each evening when Siegfried thought of his sword he would come bounding down the mountains, blowing great horn-blasts. One night he came laughing and shouting, and leaped into the cave, driving a bear he had bridled, straight on the poor frightened Mimi. He ran round and round, and darted here and there, until Siegfried could go no more for laughing, and the bear broke from the rope and ran into the woods. When Siegfried turned he saw that the poor little dwarf was crouched trembling behind the anvil, and he stopped laughing, and looked at him.

"Why do you shake and cry and run?" he asked. The dwarf said nothing, but the fire began to glow strangely, and the sword shone.

"Do you not know what fear is?" cried the dwarf at last.

"No," said the boy, and he went over and took up the sword; and lo! the blade fell apart in his hand. They stood still and looked at each other. "Can a man fear and make swords?" asked the boy. The dwarf said nothing, but the forge fire flashed and sparkled, and the broken sword gleamed, in the strangest way.

The boy smiled, and gathering up the pieces he ground them to fine powder; and when he had done, he placed the precious dust in the forge and pulled at the great bellows, so that the fire glowed into such a shining that the whole cave was light.

But the dwarf grew blacker and smaller as he watched the boy. When he saw him pour the melted steel in the mold and lay it on the fire, and heard him singing at his work, he began to rage and cry; but Siegfried only laughed and went on singing. When he took out the bar and struck it into the water there was a great hissing, and the Mist-men stood there with Mimi, and they raged and cried together. But still Siegfried only laughed and sang as he pulled at his bellows or swung his hammers. At every blow he grew stronger and greater, and the sword bent and quivered like a living flame, until at last, with a joyful cry, he lifted it above his head with both his hands; it fell with a great blow, and behold! the anvil was severed, and lay apart before him.

The joy in Siegfried's heart grew into the most wonderful peace, and the forge light seemed to grow into full day. The immortal sword was again in the world. But Mimi and the Mist-men were gone.

And the musician shows in wonderful music-pictures how Siegfried went out into the early morning, and how the light glittered on the trembling leaves and sifted through in little splashes. He stood still, listening to the stir of the leaves and the hum of the bees and the chirp of the birds. Two birds were singing as they built a nest, and he wondered what they said to one another. He cut a reed and tried to mock their words, but it was like nothing. He began to wish that he might speak to some one like himself, and he wondered about his mother; why had she left him? It seemed to him he was the one lone thing in the world. He lifted his silver horn and blew a sweet