Teacher cast a spell over the book, so that if any one but an elf read out of it, something happened.

In Switzerland many of the schools open at six-thirty in the morning. It was so in this school, and the teacher was rather sleepy, as he had been used to rising much later during the vacation. He tried to be pleasant, but he felt just a little out of sorts.

He first called the fourth-reader class, and told the scholars to open their books at page sixty-one. The teacher opened the Magic Fourth Reader, and asked Margot to read. Margot was one of the brightest girls in school, and she started off reading plainly what was on page sixty-one of her book.

"What's the matter, Margot?" said the teacher; "can't you find page sixty-one? That will do. Heinrich, you may read."

Heinrich did not know what to do, for he knew that Margot had read every word correctly. He stuttered and stammered, and at last started to read. But he read just what Margot had read, only he did not read it half so well.

"What foolishness is this?" cried the teacher. "Have you all lost your wits, or is it some trick that you are trying to play me?"

He called upon two or three other children, and they all read the same thing. At last he called on Pierre, and Pierre said it was no use. His book was just like the rest, and he couldn't read it any different if he tried.

"I think," said Pierre, "the elves must have done it.'

"Nonsense!" said the teacher, "do you think the elves have changed all your books and not mine? Here, Pierre, take my book and read from it. I know it by heart by this time."

Pierre took the book; it was as different from his book as books could well be. Yet it seemed to be easy and pleasant reading. He read the first sentence as easily as could be, but then he paused, for something wonderful had happened. The teacher's desk had turned into a great flaming dragon.

The teacher was so scared that he climbed up the ladder to the loft above and left the scholars to take care of themselves the best way they could. The scholars were all scared too, and began to run into the corners. Pierre dropped the book, which went shut with a bang, and suddenly the dragon turned back into the teacher's desk again. When the teacher saw that the dragon was gone, he came down, rubbing his eyes as if it had all been a dream. In fact he began to think that it really was a dream. In the meantime Pierre had picked up the Magic Fourth Reader, and was standing, ready to read again. The teacher told him to go on. He read one more sentence, and every book in the room suddenly turned to oranges and rolled off the desks to the floor. The children began to scramble about to pick them up, but Pierre went on reading just as if nothing had happened.

When he had read another sentence the oranges turned into squirrels, which began to run around the room.

The

scholars began to clap their hands, and the teacher's hair began to stand up. He had never seen anything like that before.

Pierre kept on reading. At the end of the next sentence the schoolhouse turned into an enormous flying machine,

and teacher and children and everything went sailing away over the Alps. Everybody was frightened, as they thought they were never to see their fathers and mothers. again, and they did not know what would become of them.

Fortunately for them, Pierre was afraid that he was going to fall out of the machine, and he dropped the Magic Fourth Reader. It fell and fell, and luckily went

shut when it struck the earth. Otherwise those children and teacher would have been sailing through the air to this day. As it was, when the book closed, the flying machine turned back into the schoolhouse, and settled gently to its proper place; the squirrels became books again, and the Magic Fourth Reader disappeared forever.

Pierre wished to ask the teacher if he still did not believe in elves; yet he thought it better not to say anything. But to this day no one has ever heard that teacher say anything contrary to the little people who live under the earth and do many wonderful things.

THE World's a very happy place,

Where every child should dance and sing,
And always have a smiling face,
And never sulk for anything.

I waken when the morning's come,
And feel the air and light alive
With strange, sweet music like the hum
Of bees about their busy hive.

The linnets play among the leaves

At hide-and-seek, and chirp, and sing;
While, flashing to and from the eaves,
The swallows twitter on the wing.

The twigs that shake, and boughs that sway;

And tall old trees you could not climb; And winds that come, but cannot stay, Are gayly singing all the time.

From dawn to dark the old mill-wheel
Makes music, going round and round;
And dusty-white with flour and meal,
The miller whistles to its sound.

And if you listen to the rain

When leaves and birds and bees are dumb,

You hear it pattering on the pane

Like Andrew beating on his drum.

The coals beneath the kettle croon,

And clap their hands and dance in glee;

And even the kettle hums a tune

To tell you when it's time for tea.

The world is such a happy place,
That children, whether big or small,
Should always have a smiling face,
And never, never sulk at all.

- GABRIEL SETOUN.