Poor little sea-stars! One cannot help pitying them, who used to be the beautiful jewels of the sky. One sees them sometimes lying in the pools, red and purple, blue, pink and yellow; beautiful colors indeed, such as jewels have, but no longer sparkling and clear, as once they were. They lie and stare up wistfully through the green water, up at the sky which was once their home, up at the other stars of which they were once the shining brothers. And it was all the fault of the naughty little mermaid, who was not wise enough to know when she was happy. OCEAN WONDERS Far below the purple waves, In the hidden ocean caves, Floating softly to and fro, Wonder-creatures come and go. Monsters hideous and queer, Curious lovely shapes and dear Dwell beneath the silent tide, Where the rainbow fishes glide. Who can say what things may be In the mystic, magic sea? In the depths so cool and green Which no man has ever seen? And what wonders happen there Such as mortals may not share? But a bit of pearly shell, Or of sea-weed green, may tell Just a hint of secret lore As we walk along the shore. THE BALLOON BOY [Illustration] THE BALLOON BOY Carlo was the brown-skinned boy who stood on the corner of the Avenue every morning with a great bunch of red and blue balloons tied to a stick. Carlo used to wait smiling for the children to come up with their nurses and pick out the balloons with which they loved to play. The balloons bobbed and danced above Carlo’s head as if they wanted to fly away. Indeed, one of them once succeeded in escaping, just after it had been bought by little Johnny Parker. Johnny had forgotten to hold it tight, and _Pouf!_ Off it sailed over the trees. No one ever knew what became of that little red balloon, which soared up far beyond the reach of Johnny’s wailing. But the other little balloons were always trying to follow after, and sometimes they pulled so hard at the strings that they seemed almost ready to lift Carlo off his feet and bear him with them over the tree-tops. Carlo was a happy boy, for he had come from a happy country where the people still believe in fairies, and he had not lived in this land long enough to catch the disease which makes one believe that there are “no such things as the Little People.” Carlo was a kind boy, and he loved the little children who bought balloons of him and paid their pennies into his rough, brown hand. Carlo had a little sister at home in the old country, and when he had earned money enough by selling red and blue balloons he meant to send for Nita to come and live with him, so they could have a little home of their own.