meadows and deep forests instead of riding in street cars; and went to
bed when it grew dark and rose with the sun--which is vastly different
from the present custom. Having no books to read they told their
adventures to one another and to their little ones; and the stories
were handed down from generation to generation and reverently believed.

Those who peopled the world in the old days, having nothing but their
hands to depend on, were to a certain extent helpless, and so the
fairies were sorry for them and ministered to their wants patiently
and frankly, often showing themselves to those they befriended.

So people knew fairies in those days, my dear, and loved them,
together with all the ryls and knooks and pixies and nymphs and other
beings that belong to the hordes of immortals. And a fairy tale was a
thing to be wondered at and spoken of in awed whispers; for no one
thought of doubting its truth.

To-day the fairies are shy; for so many curious inventions of men have
come into use that the wonders of Fairyland are somewhat tame beside
them, and even the boys and girls can not be so easily interested or
surprised as in the old days. So the sweet and gentle little
immortals perform their tasks unseen and unknown, and live mostly in
their own beautiful realms, where they are almost unthought of by our
busy, bustling world.

Yet when we come to story-telling the marvels of our own age shrink
into insignificance beside the brave deeds and absorbing experiences
of the days when fairies were better known; and so we go back to "once
on a time" for the tales that we most love--and that children have
ever loved since mankind knew that fairies exist.