In a city of which you all know the name lives a little girl who formerly was very naughty but now behaves much better than she did. This little girl was very beautiful, which made it seem all the more sad that she ever was naughty.

One day she was particularly bad and would do nothing to please anybody. She wanted to be petted, waited upon, and humored all the time. She fretted and whined so much, that when evening came, her mother was no longer able to endure her behavior, and sent her to bed immediately after supper.

As she lay dozing in her little cot, she remembered that she had not said her prayers. She would not get out of bed to say them, but muttered in a peevish voice: "I wish that God would punish all the wicked people I know! But there's no use praying anyway!"

No sooner had little Polly uttered these words, than a light flashed upon her astonished eyes. She sat up in bed and gazed in horror. Coming toward her was an old, stooped, wild-eyed woman, dressed in gray and carrying a big stick.

Polly tried to scream, but her voice seemed no louder than the squeak of a mouse. Then she tried to get out of bed and run to her mother, but could not move a foot, nor even a finger. Meanwhile the hag came nearer, and as she approached she grew more ugly.

Polly was already nearly dead with terror; yet what did the old woman do but reach her heavy hand and lift the child by her hair right out of bed! Then the frightful hag let her fall upon the floor, gave her a hideous look, and sharply commanded: "Follow me, pouter!"

In vain did Polly try to resist. Clad only in her nightdress, she followed her unwelcome guide out of the house. The night was cold, and the streets were muddy. After they had tramped about for a while, the witch stooped lower than ever and made Polly bestride her back; then she flew with her little rider to the Mountains. Here the hag stopped, and placing the child on the ground, commanded her to wish.

Poor Polly was afraid to speak.

"Ask! Ask!" the witch kept repeating, as she stood over Polly, shaking her long bony hand at her. "I give you five minutes to decide! Going—going—gone!"

At the last word the old woman clapped her hands together, making sparks fly.

Polly screamed with terror: "I only want to be good! Please!"

Then, for a long time, Polly remembered no more. Everything became dark, and she thought she was getting smaller and smaller, until suddenly she became a pin-point and pricked herself, as if she had been somebody else!

"Oh!" she exclaimed as she came to herself again. She looked about, and saw beautiful mountains all around. The valley in which she lay was green with grass and glowing with beautiful wild flowers. Not far off she could see a clear, sparkling river. She was clad in a new and lovely pink frock with stockings and shoes to match. What did it all mean?

The sun was already high in midheaven. As far as Polly's eyes could see, the scenery was entrancing. Birds sang in the branches, and squirrels ran to Polly and begged for nuts.

Then she heard the shout of little children, and saw twenty or more youngsters frolicking in a near meadow.

When the children saw her they ran to meet her and made her very welcome. Soon she became quite at home among them.

Finally a little boy named Harry pointed with his finger; "See, it is dinner-time!" he said.

Polly looked where the boy pointed and was astonished to see a tall, stately clock-tower, rising high above all the mountains. The hands of the clock pointed to twelve.

"Oh! Oh!" exclaimed Polly. "Isn't it grand? Why didn't I notice it before?"

"Because," said Harry, "you were playing and not thinking about time."

At that instant the clock struck twelve. Then it chimed forth a sweet chant, more beautiful than anything that Polly ever had heard. It made her feel as though she were in heaven. But being still a child of earth, she clapped her hands and scampered off with the other children to the tower.

"How often, Harry, does that clock chime?" asked Polly.

"It plays music every quarter of an hour."

"How is it, then, that I did not hear the music before?"

"Do you really mean that you have not heard the clock chime all the morning? It has been playing right along. You must have seen that we children stopped playing for a few seconds now and then. At those times we were listening to the music."

The other children gathered about Polly, and when Harry told them about her failure to hear the chimes, they all began to laugh.

Polly could not bear to be laughed at so she cried bitterly; whereupon the other children scampered off.

Harry, however, tried to comfort the weeping child. "Polly," he pleaded, "never mind those children; they do not know any better."

Polly suddenly drew away from him. "I guess you told them things about me! Go away from me! You are a tattle-tale!"

She stamped her foot, and her eyes flashed. Harry turned and walked away sadly.

Suddenly to Polly all nature became very still and lonesome. She was sorry that all the children had gone, and she did not know where to find them. The great clock-tower too had disappeared. She began to be afraid once more. Sitting down on a stone she almost wished herself dead. No one loved her. The sun began to move toward the West and Polly was beginning to feel hungry as well as sad.

But now occurred something that made her forget all about hunger: She saw the witch approaching her, looking more horrid than ever. When Polly tried to run, she found herself so badly frightened that she could not move from the spot.

"Oh, please, please, good woman," pleaded Polly, falling on her knees, "don't take me away from these fields. I know I was naughty, but I will try to do better in the future. Please—don't take me away!"

Instead of scolding and threatening, as Polly feared, the hag gently patted her on the head, saying: "So you want to stay here. My child, no one can stay here who wishes evil and is stubborn."

"I'll be good—I'll be good," pleaded Polly.

"Then, child, you shall have your wish," replied the old woman, disappearing from the scene.

As soon as the witch was gone, Polly rose from her knees and wished for Harry, but wishing did not bring him. Feeling tired after so much excitement, she lay down and peacefully drifted into dreamland.

She was aroused by Harry's voice.

"Polly! Polly!" he was gently calling until she opened her large blue eyes. "It is past dinner-time," he said, "and if you do not hurry there will be no good things to eat."

"Oh, Harry, Harry!" she cried. "I have been very, very naughty!"

Happily they walked toward the great clock tower, which had become visible again to Polly. She afterward learned that her vision changed with her mood. In this land, if she was cranky and irritable she saw snakes and toads and worms and other creeping things, while if she was good she saw only singing birds and laughing waters and other beautiful objects.

When the two entered the hall, most of the other children were leaving. Polly followed her friend to a seat and began to enjoy the good things on the table.

After they had eaten, Harry led her about the building and showed her its many wonders. They were about to leave when Polly discovered a picture that startled her. It appeared to be a large painting of two children, walking together, and an old hag dragging after.

"Oh, Harry!" exclaimed Polly, starting back, "it is the picture of the gray witch! Come, let us run!"

She turned to flee but Harry caught her. "Yes, Polly," he said in surprise, "it is the witch, but she is not ugly but beautiful. If you knew her you would like her. She loves all of us very dearly. It is she who gave you that fine dinner!"

"I do not believe it! She is horrid—I hate her!" shouted Polly. "She is always scolding me."

"You must be mistaken, Polly. She is the kindest woman in all the world!"

Polly turned to look at the picture again. It had changed. The girl was a saucy little minx, but the boy was full of grace and beauty. The witch was smiling.

"Why," whispered Polly, "that boy looks like you! But how wild the little girl looks! The witch is smiling. I never saw the old thing look like that before."

"It is not a painted picture at all," said Harry, "but only a mirror."

"Oh," screamed Polly, turning round to find the witch. But the old woman was gone. Polly glanced at the mirror again, and there stood the two children alone.

"I hope the witch did not hear what I said about her," she exclaimed.

They left the building and wandered along a pretty green carpeted road. A fat goose with her brood of goslings waddled after them, gabbling something that sounded like this: "Wait for us! We want to go too. My little children cannot walk so fast. Hold on! Hold on there!"

Polly stopped and beckoned to the old thing. Immediately the mother with her group of children came to her. She said that her goslings were the finest children in all the land. "Why," she said, "they walked as soon as they were born! Not like humans, who have to be nursed and cradled for years before they know anything. My children began to do for themselves when they were an hour old. Now humans are stupid till they are taught a trade with which to earn a living. There are no idle children among my youngsters."

"I have always heard people say 'as foolish as a goose,'" replied Polly. "I am never going to say that again, for I see that I was mistaken. I should have said 'as stupid as human children!'"

When all were rested they started off to the half-mile creek to see the big bullfrogs.

"Now watch, Polly," said Harry, when they reached the banks, "and you will see the great prince of the frogs. He comes out about this time of the day to review his subjects. There is the band coming already. Like other monarchs, he likes to be preceded by a great swell of music. The people of Frogdom must be impressed."

Sure enough, there swam into view a company of frogs, big and little. They swam to a little island and leaped up the bank. The leader, who was a little larger than the others, faced them and waved a small twig. Immediately the frog band struck up.

It was a strange band indeed. They had all the parts, from the bass up to a high treble. The water trombones sat breast deep in the water so that they produced a very delightful music. Others stood on their toes and rubbed themselves against the tall grass to produce a violin effect. The big frogs played bass; the little fellows shrilled like piccolos.

The children clapped their hands and sang to the accompaniment of the frog band. The old goose swung her head from side to side, keeping time with the music, while the goslings sang all of the tunes they knew. When the band played a familiar cake-walk, they waddled about the bridge as gracefully as goslings could, with their necks joined together.

Suddenly the band ceased, and the children beheld a very large bullfrog sitting on a pond lily drawn by eight little frogs. Dreamily the car of state floated toward the little island.

"It is the king," whispered Harry.

The big lazy frog landed at the island, followed by a great host of froggies. Then he stood up and his subjects bowed low. When the band struck up the national anthem of Frogdom, all the frogs cheered and waved their hands. Then they had games and contests to please his majesty. Some turned somersaults, some in swimming races made wonderful time, while others strutted on their hind legs to see who could do it longest.

The old goose was very much annoyed at the haughty ways of the frog king, and she muttered something about people making too much of themselves. "I would like to teach that fat fellow that he is better able to draw those little frogs than they are to draw him!" she declared as she jumped into the water and swam to the island.

As soon as she reached shore, she waddled up to the king, who was addressing his subjects. Nobody noticed her approach and their astonishment knew no bounds when she appeared among them hissing loudly. The king was so startled that he broke down in his speech, and his subjects lost no time in diving deep into the water.

The ruler was left alone and defenseless. The goose seized him by his fat sides, and swallowed his majesty. The king was no more. His bereaved subjects wailed, and the band played a mournful tune, as they saw their monarch disappearing, inch by inch, down the long neck of the goose.

Mrs. Goose turned upon the crowd. "You simpering loons!" she hissed, "what are you mourning over? A lost king? No, but over your own stupidity. Now you are free and I advise you to set up no more monarchs; if you do, I shall turn my goslings loose upon you." So saying she swam back again and waddled about on the bridge.

After this exciting incident the children took off their shoes and paddled in the cool stream. Polly was delighted to feel the little fishes nibbling at her toes. When this enjoyment was at its height, they were surprised to see a little man gliding toward them in a little boat. He came paddling against the stream, singing as he dipped the blade into the water. He was a handsome fellow and sat bravely in his wee cockleshell.

"Get in my children," he said. "I have been sent to bring you to the great palace."

"But," protested Polly, "the boat is no longer than my own body."

"Nothing can be accomplished without trying," said the little boatman, so they stepped in and instead of sinking, the boat rose just a little out of the water. It was certainly a magic boat. And when the boatman plied his paddle the little vessel skimmed like a swallow along the surface. Upstream they glided, passing under many bridges. It was the most delightful trip that Polly had ever taken.

Just below the landing was a bend in the stream and as they rounded it a magnificent landscape suddenly popped into view. A splendid building stood close to the landing. It was known as the River Castle. As the children sprang out, a merry group of youngsters came running to meet them. An acquaintance began at once, and soon Polly and Harry were playing with the other children as if they had known one another for years.

By and by there was a lull in the play, and Polly's eyes wandered to the great tall building. She had not carefully observed the high eight-sided tower, whose top was lost to view in the clouds. Its sides were set with bell-shaped disks, made of different metals—some of gold, some of silver, and others of copper. As the light of the setting sun shone upon them, the scene was beyond description.

"What is that?" whispered Polly grasping an arm of her friend, and pointing toward the castle.

"That is the great reflector. Every sound that has ever been made is repeated here," explained Harry. "Even the growing corn may be heard singing as it grows."

They were interrupted by the striking of the old town-clock. They counted the strokes—one, two, three, four, five. They seemed many miles away.

"It is the old clock in the tower," whispered Polly.

The disks took up the sweet notes and magnified them till they sang a thousand times more sweetly. Then the chimes struck up their beautiful music. The children stood with bowed heads as they heard the grand harmonies of heaven.

When the music had ended, the boy and the girl sat silent for many minutes. Then Polly looked up and saw the witch standing before them, and all her old fears returned.

"Well Polly," said the old woman, "are you still afraid of me?"

Then a magic spell was wrought. Polly looked in astonishment. The hag had changed from an old withered thing to a very beautiful young woman.

"You thought that I was ugly, little girl. Now that you are feeling better and happier I appear to you as wonderful as your own thoughts. People always have the things they desire—that is, if they truly desire them. We are what we make ourselves. No matter how crippled or distorted we may be, still we may be happy and beautiful if we so desire. Happiness is within and is not to be chased like a butterfly and bagged."

Now Polly was not so sure that she liked the witch after all; in fact, she wished that she would go away and leave them alone. In a moment the woman changed to an ugly creature again. Polly started to run away but the witch caught her up in her arms and hugged her close, and when she was through the witch again became the lovely creature that she had been a few moments ago.

"Now you must not think wicked thoughts," said she; "if you do, I shall have to remain ugly. If you only knew how it hurts to be ugly I believe you would try to be good, if only for my sake."

"Please, mother," pleaded the child, "if you forgive me this time I shall always be good because I want to, both for your sake and because I wish to be good. I am very much ashamed of myself."

Polly threw her arms around the good mother and hugged her. From that hour, they became friends. And sitting down on the grass the good woman explained the working of the tower.

"That spire," she said, "reaches to heaven and has millions and millions of disks on its sides. These instruments are the sound-receivers of the whole world. Every sound is magnified and made sweeter by the condensers. Every prayer, every song, and every musical note is caught here and made clearer and stronger. Every good deed done is praised and every kind word reechoed."

"Did you say," inquired the girl, "that every angry word or wicked prayer is retold on these bells? That would be terrible!" Polly was thinking of her own naughty thoughts.

"Yes, my dear," answered the woman, "everything is heard here. But the strange thing about the bells is that a wicked thing is a thousand times reduced. These disks repeat everything good that is said and throw it back to the poor old world to brighten the speaker and the world itself. Good thoughts, too, are reflected and sent to earth again to gladden human beings. Wicked things are detected and examined, but only good things are sent to earth again."

Then the woman led the children a short distance from the tower and asked them to listen.

"Oh! Oh!" screamed Polly, "I heard a bad word."

"Yes," explained the woman, "you heard that word before it reached the bells; but if you were to listen, it would be so changed that you would not recognize it. But let us go and see other things about the great steeple."

She led them to the base of the building and showed them a queer-looking register that worked like a modern adding machine. A ribbon continually ran out of one end and was rolled on a big spool.

"This," explained the guide, "records every deed done by everybody in the world. It is connected with the disks and never gets out of tune."

They examined the machine, and saw millions and millions of spools slowly rolling as the minutes passed. There was a spool for each individual that ever lived on earth. At every one's death his spool was laid away in the great tower above.

"Isn't it wonderful?" exclaimed Polly. "I should like to see my spool, dear mother."

The woman took the girl to the back of the machine and showed her her own life-spool. The ribbon was very small, but the guide detached it and gave it to the child to read. As she unwound it, she read: "I wish that God would punish all the wicked people I know!" Polly dropped the spool and hid her face: these were her own words.

"Do not feel badly, dear Polly," whispered the mother, "and do not look now for any more bad records of yourself; but fill the rest of the spool with good words and good deeds, and in the end your record will be rewritten, made bright and clear." She then picked the girl up and held her to her breast, kissing her tenderly.

At this moment Polly heard the disks ring out: "Polly!" and she cried, "Goodie! Goodie!"

It was her mother calling her for breakfast. Polly sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Oh, mamma—where is the mother witch? Where is Harry?"

Her mother looked puzzled at first, but she quickly realized that her little daughter had been dreaming. "I'll be the mother witch, my dear," she said, "and we will find Harry some day soon."