sought her unweariedly there, making the rocks resound to their calling and lamentation; but day after day passed, and even weeks, and she did not return. They at last gave her up, with the sad thought that she was drowned; or had starved, in the woods. The fisherman still sought her body, that he might bury it, but in vain he found it not. Grief at last wears out its stronger expressions, and they were settling into a more composed melancholy, when the sound of a child's voice was heard one night at the door. They started the door opened-and there was indeed a child, beautiful as the eye ever looked upon, but not their lost one. They fell back at the first moment, disappointed; the next, the tenderness of human sympathy awoke, and they took the infant in. The water dropped from her beautiful locks, and from her garments,-but the child showed no symptoms of fear. The first thought of the fisherman was, that some persons must be near to whom she belonged. He went to the door of his hut, but not a person was to be seen; he called again, and again, but there was no answer. He then returned and joined his wife in her inquiries of the child herself. The little creature laughed when asked, Where were her parents, and said "In the sea;" and to the question, What is your name? replied "Undine." The name sounded to them unholy, for they were accustomed to no names but those of the Bible. But so trivial a circumstance as a name, could not affect their kind hearts but a moment. They saw this child unprotected, thrown upon their hands, and they immediately determined to adopt her. And they attempted in the first place, to call her Mary, which was the name they had given to their own. she repeated her name was But with a frown Undine, and they would not trouble her, especially at the first moment. They persuaded her to go to sleep; and the fisherman's wife laid her on the little bed on which their lost darling had always slept. In taking off her dress, new cause for wonder showed itself. Two splendid rings hung upon a necklace of brilliants, and bracelets for wrists and ancles, adorned the little creature; and of these she herself could not give any probable account. They watched her asleep for hours; her features were very fair and exquisitely formed; her limbs beautifully round, and had the good fisherman and his wife known of some of the descriptions of fairies by the poets, they would have imagined that Undine was indeed a fairy. As it was, they wearied themselves with conjectures. How did she reach this spot alone? Why did she not show fear of strangers? Why had she no recollection apparently of any friends? They answered these questions, and doubted again their own conclusions, till, at last, they too, fell asleep. In the morning, the first thought of the good woman was to look upon the sleeping child-and what was her astonishment to find that she had already left her bed. As she turned to tell the fisherman, she was suddenly saluted with as much as a pint of water in her face! and with a loud burst of laughter, Undine jumped in at the window! You may think with what surprise the fisherman's wife found Undine feel herself already so well acquainted as to play tricks upon her. It was certainly very rude in Undine; but they were very kind, and feeling glad that she already felt at home, they only laughed at the oddity of the child. They spread the table for their frugal breakfast, and Undine sat down with them. Before they began to eat, the fisherman lifted up his eyes to Heaven, and asked his Father there to make them grateful for their breakfast. Undine said, "What is that?" The fisherman and his wife looked at each other in surprise, and wondered if this child had never heard of thanking God before, and they were silent. Undine forgot her question as soon as it was asked, and was entirely taken up in eating her breakfast, which they were glad to see her relish so well --but when it was finished, and the fisherman thanked his heavenly Father again, she renewed |