But the old Oakwichian was more reasonable, and, ever glad, even in the article of death, to disseminate useful knowledge, interposed. "I will tell you what the matter is," he said. "Well I remember in the far-away past, in the sunny summer-days that will return, alas! no more,"--here a burst of sorrow prevented speech, but he presently recovered himself,--"how a little maid used to walk in Netherworld, and rest under the shadow of our greatness, toying with the light. She was a favorite with every one hereabouts. Gold was her hair like a spun sunbeam, blue her eyes like our own June sky, and her voice might sing the lowest lullaby of the Red Mavis, or his song to his love in her nest. Sometimes the little maiden looked up wistfully to us, her eyes all a-gleam with her glowing fancies. Then we pelted her with sunshine, and caressed her with shade, and then she was happiest of all. But sometimes she brought with her hateful things, tasks and tools, useless, awkward, bungling, sharp weapons, that hurt her tender fingers, long cords that she pulled aimlessly back and forth, huge books with harsh names, that blurred her dear eyes and gloomed her bright face. First we tried to shame and then to woo her away from them, but some invisible old dragon stood over her, and forced her on; and so we learned at length to watch and wait till the hated task was over. Thereby we learned many strange and wonderful things; but this alone is to the purpose, that I surely recall how for many days she kept reading about the Red-coats, and I peeped down over her shoulder, as we swayed in the dance one afternoon, and saw pictures of these same Red-coats, a great destroying army, fierce and fell, who burn villages, and talk piously, and slay men, women, and children. Them has friend Wood-thrush verily seen, and against them he strove to warn us. But, ah! what avails it? What can we do, or whither shall we flee! Can a nation take wing like a Wood-thrush? Can Leafland flit about like a Swallow? And who should warrant us that the Red-coats should not pursue us to remotest fastnesses? Nay, they may be even now upon us. Woe! woe is me! We were Leaflanders; Oakwich was, and the great glory of the Elmthorpians! But now we be all dead men!" At this, the Leaflanders only paused long enough to upbraid the young woman. "See now whether anything is the matter!" and immediately fell to upon their despair. "A nation in ruins!" cried the statesman. "Leafland falls from its lofty summit, and I live to see the day." "I behold the gods departing from Leafland," spake the scholar. "This is the end of the fates of Leafland." "Now I do not care for your gods and your fates and your what-all," sobbed a nervous little lady. "I never could see that they were of any use in housekeeping; but who shall watch over the tender birdlings when we are gone?" "And never any more dances! Forever, never, never, forever!" You may know it was a belle said that.