"Wake up, me darlint. You have been dozing by the fire long enough," said Norah's father.

It was a cold evening in winter. Patsy was sound asleep in his bed. The good mother sat knitting socks for her husband; Mike was whittling a hockey stick to play with the next day. Little Katie was singing her rag doll to sleep, while Norah lay on the floor by the fireplace with eyes shut tight and breathing softly.

When her father touched her cheek and spoke to her, she sprang up with a sudden start.

"I've been dreaming. Oh, it was such a beautiful dream!" she exclaimed. "I was with the fairies in a big cave. They were having a party, and they looked just lovely. Indade, it was the sweetest dream I ever had."

"Do tell us about it," cried Katie. "Oh, do, Norah. And don't forget a single thing."

Norah's cheeks were rosy red, and her blue eyes sparkled as she painted the dream picture to the listening family.

She had been in the grand hall of a cave. It was like no other hall she had ever seen. The walls were shining with precious stones. Shining pendants hung from the ceiling and glistened in the light given by hundreds of fairy torches.

But the fairies themselves were the loveliest sight of all. Oh, they were such tiny creatures! The young lady fairies were all in white, and their soft, fair hair hung far down over their shoulders.

The young gentlemen fairies wore green jackets and white breeches.

The fairy queen had a golden crown on her head, and when she waved her golden wand, every one hastened to do her bidding.

They all had sweet, kind faces, and looked lovingly at Norah as they danced around her to the fairy music.

When Norah had got this far in her story, she turned to her father, and said:

"Then you called me, and the fairies all looked sad, and then—then—that's all I can remember."

"The fairies are wonderful people, and we must keep them for our friends, but I don't want them to call my Norah away from me. You must never turn your ears to the fairy music, my child."

Norah's father looked serious as he said these words. He had heard of a young girl who had listened to fairy music. It made her lose all love for her dearest friends. She forgot everything that had happened in her life. After that, she could only think of the fairies, and long to be with them. She died a short time afterward.

But, of course, Norah had only been dreaming of the fairies. That was quite different.

"Tell us some fairy stories, father dear. It is just the night for them," begged Katie.

Her father liked nothing better. He began at once to tell of a battle between two bands of fairies. It was in the night-time, and not far from the very place where they were living.

Norah's father had seen with his own eyes the man who told the story of the strange battle.

The fairies were no more than nine inches tall, but there were millions of them. They marched along in rows just like any other soldiers. The men of one army were in green coats, and the men of the other in red ones.

When they had drawn up and faced each other, the signal was given to begin the battle.

What a fight it was! The man who saw it became so excited he began to shout. Then, lo and behold! every fairy vanished from sight, and he found himself lying all alone on the roadside.

Had he been asleep? was it all a dream, like that of Norah's? He declared that was impossible.

The mother and children listened eagerly to the story. They believed every word of it.

The father did not stop here. He told now of a grand ball given by the fairies. A woman in Sligo saw it her very own self.

It was out in a big field, and the moon was shining on the beautiful scene. Hundreds of fireflies flew about the fairies, who were dancing like angels.

But the music! There was never anything like it in the world. A big frog played the big fiddle, and two kittens performed on the little ones. Then there were two big drums beaten by cats, while fat little pigs blew the trumpets. It must have been a wonderful sight.

"The fairies are very fond of childer," said Mrs. O'Neil. "They are that fond of them, they sometimes carry away a sleeping baby to their own home and leave a fairy child in its place. And that's the very truth. But come, husband, tell one more story before we go to bed."

"Oh, do, do, father!" cried Mike, and Norah and Katie repeated, "Do, do," after their brother.

How could any father refuse when children begged like that?

Norah took possession of one of his knees, Katie of the other, while Mike stretched himself out on the floor at his father's feet. As soon as all was quiet, they listened to the story of "Ethna, the Bride."

Once upon a time there was a great lord, who had a beautiful young wife. Her name was Ethna. Her husband was so proud of her, he held feasts every day. All the noblest people in the land came to his castle and danced and sang and took part in these feasts.

It happened one evening that, in the very midst of a dance, as the fair Ethna was whirling about through the hall in her rich garments of gauze, studded with sparkling jewels, she sank lifeless to the floor.

"She has fainted, she has fainted," cried the company.

She was carried to a couch, where she lay for hours without knowing anything happening about her.

But as the morning light began to creep in through the window, she awoke and told her husband she had been in the palace of the fairies. It was very, very beautiful. She longed to go back now and listen to the fairy music. It filled her with such joy as she had never felt before.

All that day her friends watched her closely, so she might not leave them again. It was of no use. As soon as the twilight settled down over the castle, there was the sound of soft music outside the walls. Instantly the beautiful Ethna closed her eyes and sank to sleep.

Every means was tried to wake her, but in vain. Her nurse was set to watch her, but for some reason she could not keep awake, and before the night was over, she, too, fell asleep.

When she awoke, she discovered that her charge was missing. Ah! where had she gone?

Every place about the castle was searched, but it was of no use. People were sent now in one direction, now in another, but every one brought back the same word,—there was no sign nor trace of the fair bride. Then the young lord said:

"I know where she must be. She has gone to the fairies. I will go to their king, Finvarra. He has always been a good friend to me. He will help me to get her back."

Little did he dream that the king of the fairies, even Finvarra himself, had fallen in love with Ethna, and had spirited her away from her home.

The young lord mounted his horse, and away he rode at full speed till he came to the hill of the fairies. There he stopped.

All at once he heard voices. This is what he heard:

"Finvarra is happy now. He has won the fair young Ethna. She will never leave his palace again."

"Ah!" was the reply, "it may happen yet. For if her husband digs down through this hill, he can win Ethna again."

"We shall see! We shall see!" exclaimed the lord when he heard these words.

He sent off at once for workmen to come to the fairy hill. They were to bring pickaxes and spades.

"Dig without stopping," was his command. "Dig till you come to the fairy palace."

A great company of men was soon at work. The air rang with the noise of their spades striking against the rocks and earth.

When night came they had made a tunnel into the very heart of the hill. They went home to rest, and with the first light of morning they came back to go on with their work.

But, behold! The hill looked as though no man had touched it. The dirt had all been replaced at the order of the powerful fairy king, Finvarra.

The young lord did not give up hope, however. The men were set to work again, and again the same thing happened as before. The work of the day was undone the next night. A third time the lord tried, and a third time he failed.

He was overcome by sorrow and disappointment, when he heard a soft voice speaking somewhere near him. It said:

"If you sprinkle salt over the earth the men dig up, Finvarra will have no power over it."

Once more the young lord was filled with hope. He sent out into the land in every direction to get quantities of salt from the people. And when the workmen stopped digging at nightfall, the salt was plentifully sprinkled over the earth.

How anxious the young lord was now! Had he really found a way of defeating the fairies? The next morning he eagerly hurried to the hill to see.

What the voice said was really true. The tunnel was just as it had been left the night before. Another day's work was enough to see it dug clear to the middle of the hill, and far down into the earth.

And then the men, putting their ears to the ground, could hear fairy music. Voices, too, could be heard around them. This is what they heard:

"Finvarra is sad at heart. It is no wonder. His palace will crumble to dust, if one of these mortals touches it with his spade."

"Why does he not save us then, and give up the young bride?" said another voice.

Then King Finvarra himself spoke, in a true kingly way. He commanded the workmen to stop digging, promising that at sunset he would give Ethna up to her husband.

The young lord was glad of heart, and told the men to lay down their spades. He could hardly wait for evening to come. But it did come at last, and found the impatient husband sitting on his handsome horse and waiting by the hillside for his bride.

As the sun lighted the western sky with his most glorious colours, Ethna, dressed in her silver robe, appeared in the pathway before her husband.

He swept her from the ground in his strong arms, and away they galloped back to the castle.

But it was not the same Ethna as before the fairy spell had been cast upon her. Oh, no! She seemed like one half-asleep. Day after day she lay on her bed with her eyes closed. She did not move or speak.

"She has eaten of the fairy food," said the people. "It will be impossible to break the spell that has been cast upon her." And every one was filled with grief.

Three months passed by with no change in Ethna. One night, as the young lord was riding through the country, he heard a voice speaking near him. It said:

"The young husband won back his beautiful bride. But what good has it done him? Her spirit is still with the fairies, and, as far as he is concerned, she is like one dead."

As soon as this voice became silent, another could be heard, saying:

"There is one way to break the fairy spell. Her husband must take off her girdle and burn it. Then he must scatter the ashes before the door. He must not forget to take the enchanted pin by which the girdle is now fastened and bury it in a deep hole in the earth. This is the only way of regaining the spirit of his wife."

At these words the young lord was filled with new hope.

He hurried home as fast as his swiftest horse could carry him, and went at once to the room of his sleeping wife.

He hastened to her side, and began to do exactly as the voice had directed.

He drew out the enchanted pin. He removed the girdle. He burned it in the fire. Then, carefully gathering the ashes, he scattered them before the door. The enchanted pin was buried in a deep hole.

He went anxiously back to Ethna's room.

She was already coming back to life. As her husband stood at her side, she began to smile at him in her old, sweet way.

And now she moved and spoke, and took up her life as in the days before the fairy spell was cast upon her.

Her husband and all others in the castle were filled with happiness. There was great rejoicing. The beautiful Ethna was safe, and King Finvarra never again tried to win her to the fairy realm.

Is it a true story? some one asks. If you do not believe it, you need only go to the hill through which the tunnel was dug. It can be seen, even now. And people still call it the Fairies' Glen.

When Norah's father finished the story, the children begged him to tell "just one more, plaze." But he pointed to the clock.

"Late, late it is for you childer to be up," he said. "It is to bed ye must go this very minute."

A quarter of an hour afterward, every one in the little cabin was settled for the night.