"I wanted to discover the world," was his answer.

"And did you discover it?"

"Oh, I have seen very, very much. I have become a very experienced bear."

"Yes, I know all that; but I asked you if you had discovered the world."

"No, no. . . not really; you see, I couldn't find it!"

The Fairy

May 12, 1944

That fairy 1 am talking about was no ordinary fairy of whom you find so many in fairyland. Oh, no, my fairy was a very special fairy, special in her appearance and special in her way of doing things. Why, everybody is sure to ask, was that fairy so special?

Well, because she didn't just help somebody here, and make some fun there, but because she had set herself the task of bringing happiness to the world and to all people.

This special fairy was called Ellen. Her parents had died when she was still quite little and had left her money. So Ellen could do as she chose and buy everything she wanted, even as a small girl. Other children, fairies and elves would get spoiled in that way, but not Ellen. As she grew older, she spent her money only to buy pretty clothes and delicious things to eat.

One morning Ellen lay awake in her soft bed, wonder- ing what to do with all her money. "I can't use it all my- self," she thought, "and 1 can't take it with me into the grave. Why shouldn't 1 use it to make others happy?"

That was a good plan, and Ellen wanted to carry it out at once. She rose, dressed, took a small wicker basket, put into it part of one of her bundles of money, and went out.

"Where shall I begin?" she asked herself. "I know. The widow of the wood chopper is sure to be pleased with a visit of mine. Her husband has just died, and the poor lady must be having a difficult time."

Singing, Ellen walked through the gra.s.s and knocked at the door of the wood chopper's cottage. "Enter!" came a voice from the inside. Ellen softly opened the door and looked into a darkened room. In a far corner a little old woman sat knitting in a shabby armchair.

She was surprised as Ellen entered and immediately laid a handful of money on the table. Like everybody else, the woman knew that one must not refuse the gifts of fairies and elves.

"That is very sweet of you, little one," she said. "There are not many people who make gifts without expecting something in return, but happily the folk of fairyland are an exception."

Ellen looked at her in amazement. "What did you mean by that?" she asked.

"I simply meant that there are few who give and not want something back."

"Is that so? But why should I want something from you? I am glad that my basket is a little lighter."

"Good!" said the old lady. "Thank you very much."

Ellen bade her good-bye and left. In ten minutes, she had reached the next cottage. Here she also knocked, though she didn't know the people. She hadn't been there long before she understood that money was not a problem here. The people did not lack things-they were poor in happiness. The lady of the house received her kindly, but she seemed to have no sparkle; her eyes were dull and she looked sad. Ellen decided to remain here a little longer.

"Perhaps I can help this lady in some other way," she thought, and really, when the sweet little fairy had seated herself upon a cushion, the woman began to talk about her troubles without being asked.

She spoke of her wicked husband, of her naughty children, and all her other misfortunes. Ellen listened, put in a question now and then, and became much concerned about the woman's sorrow.

When the woman had finished her story, Ellen spoke.

"Dear lady," she said, "I don't know about such things from experience, and I know even less how to help you. But, just the same, I'd like to give you some advice, which I, myself, always follow when I feel lonesome and sad.

"One fine morning, take a walk through the big forest until you reach the moor. Then, after walking a while in the heather, sit down somewhere and do nothing. Only look at the blue sky and the trees, and you will gradually feel peaceful inside and realize that nothing is so hopelessly bad that something can't be done to improve it -- even a little."

"No," said the lady. "That remedy will help just as much as all the other pills I have swallowed."

"Try it, anyway," urged the fairy. "Alone with nature, all worries leave one. You grow first quiet, and then glad, and feel that G.o.d has not deserted you."

"If it will please you," said the woman, "I will try it one day."

"Fine. If I may, I will drop in again next week at this time."

And so Ellen went from house to house, cheering and comforting people, and at the end of the long day her basket was empty and her heart full; she knew that she had put her money to better use than by buying clothes. From that day on, Ellen often went on her rounds. She wore her yellow flowered frock, her hair was tied with a big bow, and she carried her basket on her arm. That's how she looked when she made her visits.

Even the woman who had enough money but too much trouble was beginning to feel happier. Ellen knew it; her remedy always worked.

The fairy gained many friends-not other fairies and elves, but people and children. The children told her everything, and this gave her much insight and the ability to have the right word of comfort on every occasion. But so far as her money was concerned, she had miscalculated. After about a year, she had just enough left to live on.

Now, whoever thinks that this made Ellen sad and kept her from offering gifts is mistaken. She continued to give much, not money, but good advice and loving, healing words. She had learned that, even if one is all alone, he can still make his life beautiful; and no matter how poor one is, he can still give others riches.

When Ellen died, a very old fairy, there was more mourning in the land than there had ever been before. But Ellen's spirit was not gone. When people slept, she returned to give them blissful dreams; even in their slumber they received the gift of wise counsel from this very special fairy.

Rita

It was a quarter past four, and I was walking through a rather quiet street. I had just decided to drop in at the nearest pastry shop when, from a sidestreet, there came a couple of teen-aged girls who, chatting busily, walked arm-in-arm in the direction I had chosen.

From time to time it is interesting and refreshing to lis- ten to the conversation of teen-aged girls, not only be- cause they laugh at the merest trifle, but also because their laughter is so infectious that everyone in their vicinity must involuntarily laugh with them.

So I walked stealthily behind the pair and eayesdropped on their talk, which had to do with the buying of sweets for ten cents. They consulted each other seriously on what to get for their money, and one could tell that their mouths watered at the thought of it. At the pastry shop, they continued their chat while looking at the wares in the show window.

As I, too, was fairly eating the delicious things with my eyes, I knew what their choice would be before they stepped into the shop. Inside it wasn't busy, and the girls were served at once. They had picked two fruit tarts which, wonder above wonder, they managed to take, untouched, out of the store.

A minute later I also was ready, and once more the two walked, talking loudly, ahead of me. On the next corner there was another pastry shop, in front of whose window there stood little girl, taking in the display with greedy eyes. Soon the three were talking together, and I reached the corner in time to hear one of the teen-agers ask:

"Are you hungry, little one? Would you like a fruit tart?"

The tiny one, of course, said, "Yes."

"Don't be foolish, Rita," said the other teen-ager. "Put your tart quickly into your mouth, as I did, for if you give it to this kid, you'll have nothing."

Rita didn't answer but stood there undecided for a moment, looking from the tart to the little girl and back again. Then she suddenly gave the child the pastry and said:

"Please, eat this, my dear; I'm going home to dinner, anyway."

And before the little one could thank her, Rita and her friend had disappeared. As I pa.s.sed the youngster, who had taken a big bite from the tart with obvious relish, she offered it to me.

"Have a taste, miss; I got this for a present."

I thanked her and, smiling, I walked on. Who do you think got the most pleasure from the fruit tart-Rita, her friend, or the little girl?