“Well, as the balloon sailed farther and farther upon the airy sea, and as it grew less and less to the sight, like a ship that glides away upon the ocean--I began to think of the realms to which it seemed hastening. And at last, when it flew into the cloud, I did not dream that it had disappeared. My eye was still bent upon the spot, and I still fancied that I was with it, and that I was sailing on and on, upon the blue deep, and among regions where the happy and the lovely only dwell.” When Romance had got to this point of her story, the mother smiled, and History tittered aloud. Poetry, however, drew nearer, and seemed entranced with the tale of the dark-eyed girl. But Romance was dashed at the ridicule she had excited, and was silent. Now I suppose some of my waggish young readers, some of the roguish Paul Pries, will laugh at me, as History did at Romance; and think me not a little ridiculous, for telling such a rigmarole tale as this. But old Peter knows what he is about! He has an object in view; and now, as Mr. Lauriat let the cat out of the car, he will “let the cat out of the bag.” My purpose is to teach the meaning of the three words, History, Poetry, and Romance. History is a true record of events; and, accordingly, the little girl whom we call History, tells the exact story of the balloon. Poetry is a display of fanciful thoughts, and deals much in comparison; and so, our little Poetry gives a fanciful description of the scene, embellishing her tale by many illustrations. Romance is a picture of fantastic and extraordinary scenes and feelings; and our dark-haired maiden, who deals in it, sets forth the fairy world of visions and sentiments that is reflected in her own breast. I suppose all my readers have heard of the Nine Muses, goddesses of ancient Greece. One was called Clio, the muse of history; one was Erato, the muse of poetry. And I have sometimes fancied that the idea of these goddesses, might have originated among the fanciful Greeks, from perceiving the different ways in which different persons notice the same scenes; one being apt to remark things soberly and accurately, like our Miss History; another being apt to see them fancifully, like our Miss Poetry; and another apt to weave a world of fiction out of them, like our Miss Romance. The Zephyr. I must tell my young reader, in order to explain these lines, that in ancient times, the Greeks used to think that the light summer wind was a sort of goddess, whom they called _Zephyr_. “Where have you been to-day?” said I To a zephyr, as it flew by; And thus it made reply. “I have been upon the sea, Where the waves were full of glee, And they lov’d to dance with me. “On the mountain I have strayed, And with its green leaves played, ’Mid the sunshine and shade. “I have been in the dell, Where the wild flowers dwell, And oh, I loved them well!