Summer is coming!  I hear the glad echo;
    Clearly it rings o’er the mountain and plain. 
  Sorrowful Spring leaves the beautiful woodlands,
    Bright, happy Summer begins her sweet reign.

DORA.

SWEET MARJORAM DAY.

(A Fairy Tale.)

BY FRANK R. STOCKTON.

It was a very delightful country where little Corette lived.  It seemed to be almost always summer-time there, for the winters were just long enough to make people glad when they were over.  When it rained, it mostly rained at night, and so the fields and gardens had all the water they wanted, while the people were generally quite sure of a fine day.  And, as they lived a great deal out-of-doors, this was a great advantage to them.

The principal business of the people of this country was the raising of sweet marjoram.  The soil and climate were admirably adapted to the culture of the herb, and fields and fields of it were to be seen in every direction.  At that time, and this was a good while ago, very little sweet marjoram was raised in other parts of the world, so this country had the trade nearly all to itself.

The great holiday of the year was the day on which the harvest of this national herb began.  It was called “Sweet Marjoram Day,” and the people, both young and old, thought more of it than of any other holiday in the year.

On that happy day everybody went out into the fields.  There was never a person so old, or so young, or so busy that he or she could not go to help in the harvest.  Even when there were sick people, which was seldom, they were carried out to the fields and staid there all day.  And they generally felt much better in the evening.

[Illustration:  THE BABIES IN THE SWEET MARJORAM BEDS.]

There were always patches of sweet marjoram planted on purpose for the very little babies to play in on the great day.  They must be poor, indeed, these people said, if they could not raise sweet marjoram for their own needs and for exportation, and yet have enough left for the babies to play in.

So, all this day the little youngsters rolled, and tumbled, and kicked and crowed in the soft green and white beds of the fragrant herb, and pulled it up by the roots, and laughed and chuckled, and went to sleep in it, and were the happiest babies in the world.

They needed no care, except at dinner-time, so the rest of the people gave all their time to gathering in the crop and having fun.  There was always lots of fun on this great harvest day, for everybody worked so hard that the whole crop was generally in the sweet marjoram barns before breakfast, so that they had nearly the whole day for games and jollity.

In this country, where little Corette lived, there were fairies.  Not very many of them, it is true, for the people had never seen but two.  These were sisters, and there were never fairies more generally liked than these two little creatures, neither of them over four inches high.  They were very fond of the company of human beings, and were just as full of fun as anybody.  They often used to come to spend an hour or two, and sometimes a whole day, with the good folks, and they seemed always glad to see and to talk to everybody.