There are some touches in the stories, of course, which belong rather to Denmark than England--for example, the custom of ringing the church bells at sunset, the complete disappearance of starlings in the winter months, the "starlings' box" which is ready for them to rest in on their return, the presence of the stork. The phenomenon of beech forests extruding and supplanting oak forests (referred to by Dr. Wallace in "Darwinism" as one of the most striking instances of "natural selection") is one of which there are clearer traces in Scandinavian countries than in Great Britain. But, on the whole, Nature is the same in England as in Denmark, and the English child who learns natural history from these stories will not be misdirected. Meanwhile, I hope that these stories of Carl Ewald will be loved for their own sake as stories merely. They have so much poetical imagination, ingenuity of incident, and bright wit, that they seem entitled to some share in the popularity accorded to the children's tales of another Danish writer, Hans Christian Andersen. Some English children have already listened to them eagerly, and many others, I hope, will take them into their favour when they are sent out into the world. They may even be read with pleasure by some who are children no longer. If this is not so, the fault must lie with the translator. G. C. MOORE SMITH. SHEFFIELD, 1907. CONTENTS. THE QUEEN BEE THE ANEMONES THE MIST THE BEECH AND THE OAK THE DRAGON-FLY AND THE WATER-LILY THE WEEDS THE SPARROW LIST OF COLOURED PLATES. THE FARMER'S WIFE, _After a Drawing by Edmund Dulac._ THE BEEHIVES, _After a Drawing by Gilbert James._ MY LADY SPRING, _After a Drawing by Margaret E. Thompson._ THE EVENING HOUR, _After a Drawing by Edmund Dulac._ IN THE EARLY DAYS, _After a Drawing by John Hassall._ THE DRAGON-FLY AND THE WATER-LILY, _After a Drawing by Marie Webb._ THE FARMER AND HIS BOYS, _After a Drawing by Gilbert James._ PREPARING FOR FLIGHT, _After a Drawing by Carton Moore Park._ ILLUSTRATIVE BORDERS, HEADPIECES, ETC. _A DEDICATION._ (_After CARL EWALD._) _We strayed, thy little hand in mine, One summer morning fresh and fine, In a wood where birches met; A great sun-bonnet served as frame To rounded childish cheeks aflame-- Thy voice is ringing yet! Of birdies' songs, of flowers, of trees-- Whate'er thy tender mind could seize-- I wove thee tales, my pet: Ah, thou canst not remember it, And I can ne'er forget!_