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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Fairy Book + +Author: Sophie May + +Release Date: November 24, 2008 [EBook #27321] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FAIRY BOOK *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Sam W. and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<p class="center">LITTLE PRUDY SERIES.</p> + + +<h1 class="padtop">FAIRY BOOK.</h1> + +<p class="center padtop">BY</p> + +<h2 class="padbase">SOPHIE MAY.</h2> + + +<p class="center padtop padbase">BOSTON:<br /> +LEE AND SHEPARD,<br /> +(<span class="smcap">Successors to Phillips, Sampson, & Co.</span>)<br /> +1866.</p> + + + +<p class="center padtop smlfont">Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by<br /> +LEE & SHEPARD,<br /> +In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 408px;"> +<img src="images/fb01.jpg" width="408" height="600" +alt="Christobal carries Jasper down the ladder" /> +</div> + +<p class="caption">CRISTOBAL. Page <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class="center"><small>THIS</small><br /> +<br /> +<big>BOOK OF FAIRY TALES</big><br /> +<br /> +<small>IS DEDICATED</small><br /> +<br /> +<big>TO LITTLE BESSIE.</big></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class="center lrgfont">LITTLE PRUDY SERIES.</p> + +<p class="center">BY SOPHIE MAY.</p> + + +<p class="center padtop">I.<br /> +LITTLE PRUDY.</p> + +<p class="center">II.<br /> +LITTLE PRUDY’S SISTER SUSY.</p> + +<p class="center">III.<br /> +LITTLE PRUDY’S CAPTAIN HORACE.</p> + +<p class="center">IV.<br /> +LITTLE PRUDY’S COUSIN GRACIE.</p> + +<p class="center">V.<br /> +LITTLE PRUDY’S STORY BOOK.</p> + +<p class="center">VI.<br /> +LITTLE PRUDY’S DOTTY DIMPLE.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="60%" summary="Table of contents"> + <tr> + <td class="tdl"> </td> + <td class="tdr"><small>PAGE</small></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl">INTRODUCTION</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl">CRISTOBAL</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl">WILD ROBIN</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl">THE VESPER STAR</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl">THE WATER-KELPIE</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl">THE LOST SYLPHID</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl">THE CASTLE OF GEMS</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl">THE ELF OF LIGHT</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl">THE PRINCESS HILDA</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl">GOLDILOCKS</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<h1 class="padtop">FAIRY BOOK.</h1> + + + +<h2 class="padtop">INTRODUCTION.</h2> + + +<p>While Prudy was in Indiana visiting the +Cliffords, and in the midst of her trials with +mosquitoes, she said one day,—</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t cry, Aunt ’Ria, only my +heart’s breaking. The very next person +that ever dies, I wish they’d ask God to +please stop sending these awful skeeters. I +can’t bear ’em any longer, now, certainly.”</p> + +<p>There was a look of utter despair on +Prudy’s disfigured face. Bitter tears were +trickling from the two white puff-balls which +had been her eyes; her forehead and cheeks +were of a flaming pink, broken into little +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +snow-drifts full of stings: she looked as if +she had just been rescued from an angry beehive. +Altogether, her appearance was exceedingly +droll; yet Grace would not allow +herself to smile at her afflicted little cousin. +“Strange,” said she, “what makes our mosquitoes +so impolite to strangers! It’s a +downright shame, isn’t it, ma, to have little +Prudy so imposed upon? If I could only +amuse her, and make her forget it!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, mamma,” Grace broke forth again suddenly, +“I have an idea, a very brilliant idea! +Please listen, and pay particular attention; +for I shall speak <em>in a figure</em>, as Robin says. +There’s a certain small individual who is not +to understand.”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t risk that style of talking,” said +Mrs. Clifford, smiling; “or, if you do, your +figures of speech must be <em>very</em> obscure, remember.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +“Well, ma,” continued Grace with a significant +glance at Prudy, “what I was going +to say is this: We wish to treat certain +young relatives of ours very kindly; don’t we, +now?—certain afflicted and abused young +relatives, you know.</p> + +<p>“Now, I’ve thought of an entertainment. +Ahem! Yesterday I entered a certain Englishman’s +house,”—here Grace pointed +through the window towards Mr. Sherwood’s +cottage, lest her mother should, by chance, +lose her meaning,—“I entered a certain +Englishman’s house just as the family were +sitting down to the table,—<em>festal board</em>, I +mean.</p> + +<p>“They were talking about mistle-toe +boughs, and all sorts of old-country customs; +and then they said what a funny time they +had one Christmas, with the youngest, about +the <em>mizzle</em>, as he called it: do you remember, +ma? do you understand?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +“You mean little Harvey? Oh, yes.”</p> + +<p>“Pray do be careful, ma! Then Mr. Sherwood +said to his—I mean, the <em>hat</em> said to +the <em>bonnet</em>, that there were some wonderful—ahem—legends, +about genii and sprites +and—and so forth; not printed, but <em>written</em>, +which the boy liked to hear when he was +‘overgetting’ the measles. A certain lady, +not three inches from your chair, ma, was the +one who wrote them; and now”—</p> + +<p>Prudy had turned about, and the only remnants +of her face which looked at all natural—that +is, the irises and pupils of her swollen +eyes—were shining with curiosity.</p> + +<p>“There, now, what is it, Gracie? what is +it you don’t want me to hear?”</p> + +<p>Grace laughed. “Oh, nothing much, dear: +never mind.”</p> + +<p>“You oughtn’t to say ‘Never mind,’” pursued +Prudy: “my mother tells me <em>always</em> to +mind.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +“I only mean it isn’t any matter, Prudy.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! do you? Then don’t you care for +my skeeter-bites? You always say, ‘Never +mind!’ I didn’t know it wasn’t <em>any matter</em>.”</p> + +<p>“Now, ma,” Grace went on, “I want to ask +you where are those I-don’t-know-what-to-call-’ems? +And may I copy them, Cassy and +I, into a book, for a certain afflicted relative?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, on gold-edged paper!” cried +Prudy, springing up from the sofa; “oh, do, +do; I’ll love you dearly if you will! Fairy +stories are just as nice! What little Harvey +Sherwood likes, <em>I</em> like, and I’ve had the measles; +<em>but</em> I shouldn’t think his father and +mother’d wear their hat and bonnet to the +dinner-table!”</p> + +<p>“Deary me!” laughed Grace; “how happened +that little thing to mistrust what I +meant?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +“It would be strange if a child of her age, +of ordinary abilities, should <em>not</em> understand,” +remarked Mrs. Clifford, somewhat amused. +“Next time you wish to ask me any thing +confidentially, I advise you to choose a better +opportunity.”</p> + +<p>“When may she, Aunt ’Ria?” cried Prudy, +entirely forgetting her troubles; “when +may she write it, Aunt ’Ria, she and Cassy?”</p> + +<p>“A pretty piece of folly it would be, +wouldn’t it, dear, when you can’t read a word +of writing?”</p> + +<p>“But Susy can a little, auntie; and mother +can a great deal: and I’ll never tease ’em, +only nights when I go to bed, and days when +I don’t feel well. Please, Aunt ’Ria.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, ma, I know you can’t refuse,” said +Grace.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Clifford hesitated. “The stories are +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +yellow with age, Grace; they were written +in my girlhood: and they are rather torn and +disarranged, if I remember. Besides, my +child, my flowing hand is difficult to read.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, mamma, I think you write beautifully! +splendidly!”</p> + +<p>“Another objection,” continued Mrs. Clifford: +“they are rather too old for Prudy, I +should judge.”</p> + +<p>“But I keep a-growing, Aunt ’Ria! Don’t +you s’pose I know what fairy stories mean? +They don’t mean any thing! You didn’t feel +afraid I’d believe ’em, did you? I wouldn’t +believe ’em, I <em>promise</em> I wouldn’t; just as +true’s I’m walking on this floor!”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, I hope you would not, little +Prudy; for I made them up as I went along. +There are no fairies but those we have in our +hearts. Our best thoughts are good fairies; +and our worst thoughts are evil fairies.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +“Oh, yes, auntie, I know! When we go +bathing in the ocean, Susy says, ‘Let’s be all +clean, so the spirit of the water can enter +our hearts.’ And it does; but it goes in by +our noses.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Clifford had tacitly given her consent +to Grace’s copying the stories. This task +was performed accordingly, much to the disgust +of Horace, who declared that of the +whole number only the tale of “Wild Robin” +was worth reading.</p> + +<p>“And ‘Wild Robin,’” said Grace, instructively, +“is the only one that has a moral for +you, Horace. When our soldiers are starving +so, it is really dreadful to see how you +dislike corned beef and despise vegetables! +Such a dainty boy as you needs to be stolen +a while by the fairies.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Gracie, I reckon you’d run double-quick +to pull me off the milk-white steed. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +You couldn’t get along without me two days. +Look here! what story has a moral for you, +miss? It’s the ‘Water-kelpie.’ You are like +the man that married Moneta: you’re always +wanting money.”</p> + +<p>“But it’s for the soldiers, Horace,” said +Grace, with a smile of forbearance toward +her brother. “I’m willing to give all my +pocket-money; and I mean the other girls +shall. If we’re stingy to our country these +days, we ought to be shot! ‘Princess Hilda’s’ +the best story in the book. I wish Isa Harrington +could read it! She wouldn’t make +any more mischief between Cassy and me!”</p> + +<p>“I like ‘The Lost Sylphid’ the best,” said +Prudy; “but <em>was</em> she a great butterfly, do +you s’pose? The stories are all just as nice; +just like book stories. I shouldn’t think anybody +made ’em up. Aunt ’Ria can write as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +good as the big girls to the grammar-school. +I promised not to believe a single word; and +I sha’n’t. I’m glad she called it <em>my</em> Fairy +Book.”</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CRISTOBAL.</h2> + +<h3>A CHRISTMAS LEGEND.</h3> + + +<p>Long ago, in fair Burgundy, lived a lad +named Cristobal. His large dark eyes lay +under the fringe of his lids, full of shadows; +eyes as lustrous as purple amethysts, and, +alas! as sightless.</p> + +<p>He had not always been blind, as perhaps +a wild and passionate lad, named Jasper, +might have told you. On a certain Christmas +Eve, a merry boy was little Cristobal, +as he pattered along to church, trying with +his wooden shoes to keep time to the dancing +bells. In his hand he carried a Christmas +candle of various colors. Never, he thought, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +was a rainbow so exquisitely tinted as that +candle. Carefully he watched it when it +winked its sleepy eye, eagerly begging his +mamma to snuff it awake again. How gayly +the streets twinkled with midnight lanterns! +And how mortifying to the stars to be outdone +by such a grand illumination!</p> + +<p>A new painting had just been hung in the +church,—the Holy Child, called by the people +“Little Jesus,” with an aureola about his +head. Cristobal looked at this picture with +reverent delight; and, to his surprise, the +Holy Child returned his gaze: wherever he +went, the sweet, sorrowful eyes followed him. +There was a wondrous charm in that pleading +glance. Why was it so wistful? What +had those deep eyes to say?</p> + +<p>The air was cloudy with the breath of +frankincense and myrrh. Deep voices and +the heavy organ sounded chants and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +anthems. There were prayers to the coming +Messiah, and the sprinkling of holy water; +and, at last, the midnight mass was ended.</p> + +<p>Then, in tumult and great haste, the people +went home for merry-makings. Cristobal, +eager to see what the Yule-log might +have in store for him, rushed out of the +church with careless speed, stumbling over a +boy who stood in his way,—the haughty, insolent +Jasper. Jasper’s beautiful Christmas-candle +was cracked in twenty pieces by his +fall.</p> + +<p>“I’ll teach you better manners, young +peasant!” cried he, rushing upon Cristobal +in a frenzy, and dealing fierce blows without +mercy or reason.</p> + +<p>It was then that Cristobal’s eyes went out +like falling stars. Their lustre and beauty +remained; but they were empty caskets, +their vision gone.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +Then followed terrible anguish; and all +Cristobal’s mother could do was to hold her +boy in her arms, and soothe him by singing. +At last the fever was spent; but the pain +still throbbed on, and sometimes seemed to +burn into Cristobal’s brain. He cried out +again and again, “What right had that +fierce Jasper to spring upon me so? I meant +him no harm; and he knew it. Oh, I would +like to see him chained in a den! He is like +the wicked people who are turned into +wolves at Christmas-tide. I would cry for +joy if I could hear him groan with such pain +as mine!”</p> + +<p>Poor Cristobal never hoped to see again. +He carried in his mind pictures of cities and +hamlets, of trees, flowers, and old familiar +faces; but oftenest came Jasper’s face, just +as it had last glared on him with blood-thirsty +eyes. It was a terrible countenance. Only +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +one charm could dispel the horror,—the +remembrance of the beautiful Child in the +church. That picture blotted out every +thing else. It was like the refrain in the +Burgundy carols, “Noel, Noel,” which comes +again and again, and never tires of coming.</p> + +<p>A whole year passed away. Cristobal’s +mother only prayed now that her boy might +suffer less: she had ceased to pray for the +healing of his blindness.</p> + +<p>Now it was Christmas-tide again. Ever +since Advent, people had been clearing their +throats, and singing carols. They roasted +chestnuts, drank white wine, and chanted +praises of the “Little Jesus,” who was soon +to come, bringing peace on earth, good-will to +men.</p> + +<p>In the streets, one heard bagpipes and minstrels; +and, by the hearthstones, the music of +the wandering piper. The children began to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +talk again of the Yule-log, and to wonder +what gifts Noel would bring to place under +each end of it; for these little folks, who have +no stocking-saint like our Santa Claus, believe +in another quite as good, who rains +down sugar-plums in the night.</p> + +<p>Everywhere there was a joyful bustle. +Housewives were making ready their choicest +dishes for the great Christmas-supper; +fathers were slyly peeping into shop-windows, +and children hoarding their sous and +centimes for bonbons and comfits.</p> + +<p>Everybody was merry but Cristobal; or +so thought the lad. He had no money to +spend, and little but pain for his holiday-cheer. +A patch here and there in his worn +clothes was the best present his thrifty mother +was able to make; always excepting the +little variegated taper, which few were too +poor to buy.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +Christmas Eve came. Family friends +dropped in. The Yule-log was set on the fire +with shouts and singing. “Oh that I could +see these kind faces!” moaned Cristobal. +“No doubt, Jasper’s chestnuts are popping +merrily; and his shoes will be full of presents. +And here am I! My head aches, and +my eye-balls burn.”</p> + +<p>He stole out of the room, and, throwing +himself on a wicker bench, mused over his +troubles in solitude. One might have supposed +him sleeping; for how should one imagine +that his beautiful eyes were of no +manner of use, except when they were +closed? When Cristobal said, “Let me see,” +he dropped his eye-lids; and what he saw +then, no artist can paint.</p> + +<p>On this night, a beautiful child appeared +before him, as like the picture of the Little +Jesus as if it had stepped out of its frame on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +the church-wall. Even the crimson and blue +tints of the old painting were faithfully preserved; +and every fold of the soft drapery +was the very same.</p> + +<p>“I saw you, Cristobal, when you came before +me with your colored candle, one year +ago.”</p> + +<p>“I knew it, I knew it!” cried Cristobal, +clasping his hands in awe. “I saw your +eyes follow me; and I never once turned but +you were looking. They told me it was only +a picture; but I said for that very reason +your eyes were sorrowful,—you longed to +be alive.”</p> + +<p>The child replied by a slight motion of the +head; and the aureola trembled like sunlight +on the water. The longer Cristobal gazed, +the more courage he gathered. “Lovely +vision,” said he, “if vision you may be,—I +have said to myself, I would gladly walk to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +Rome with peas in my shoes, if I could know +what you wished to say to me that Christmas +night.”</p> + +<p>“Only this, little brother: Are you ready +for Christmas?”</p> + +<p>“Alas! no: I never am. I have only two +sous in the world.”</p> + +<p>“Poor Cristobal! Yet, without a centime, +one may be ready for Christmas.”</p> + +<p>“But I am so very unhappy!”</p> + +<p>“You do indeed look sad, little brother: +where is your pain?”</p> + +<p>“In my eyes,” moaned the boy, pouring out +the words with a delightful sense of relief; +for he was sure they dropped into a pitying +heart. “Beloved little Jesus, let me tell you +that since I saw you last I have been wickedly +injured. Now I have always a pain in +my eyes: there are two flames behind them, +which burn day and night.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +“I grieve for you,” said the Child with exquisite +tenderness; “yet, dear boy, for all +that, you might be ready for Christmas: but +is there not also a pain throbbing and burning +in your <em>heart</em>?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, if you mean that, I am tossed up and +down by vexation: I am full of hatred +against that terrible Jasper. It was all about +a miserable Christmas-candle he carried. I +broke it by pushing him down. Tell me, +was he right to fly at me like a wild beast? +Ought he not to suffer even as I have suffered? +Is it just, is it right, for the great +man’s son to put out a peasant boy’s eyes, +and be happy again?”</p> + +<p>“Misguided Jasper!” said the Child solemnly; +“let him answer for his own sin: +judge not, little brother.”</p> + +<p>Cristobal hid his face in his hands, and +wept for shame.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +“Shall I give you ten golden words for a +Christmas-gift? Will you hide them in your +heart, and be happy?”</p> + +<p>“I will,” answered Cristobal.</p> + +<p>“They are these,” said the Child with a +voice of wondrous sweetness: “Pray for +them which despitefully use you and persecute +you.”</p> + +<p>Cristobal repeated the words, a soft light +stealing over his face. “I will remember,” +he said, looking up to meet the pleading eyes +of the Child: but, lo! the whole face had +melted into the aureola; nothing was left but +light. Yet Cristobal was filled with a new +joy; and, as he opened his eyes, his dream—if +dream it were—changed, becoming as +sweet and solemn as a prayer. It seemed to +him that the roof of the cottage glittered +with stars, and was no longer a roof, but the +boundless sky; and, afar off, like remembered +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +music, a voice fell on his ear, “For if +ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly +Father will also forgive you your trespasses.”</p> + +<p>Cristobal arose, and, although still blind, +walked in light. “It is the aureola which +has stolen into my heart,” thought Cristobal. +“The pain and hate are all gone. Now I am +ready for Christmas. I wish I could help +poor Jasper, who has such a weight of guilt +to carry!”</p> + +<p>Next day, “golden-sided” Burgundy saw +no happier boy than Cristobal. He walked +in the procession that night, carrying a candle +whose light he could not see; but what +did it signify, since there was light in his +soul?</p> + +<p>Hark! In the midst of the Christmas-chimes +breaks the jangling of fire-bells. The +count’s house is on fire! The sparks pour +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +out thicker and faster; tongues of flame leap +to the sky; the bells clang hoarsely; the +Christmas procession is broken into wild disorder; +the wheels of the engine roll through +the streets, unheard in the din.</p> + +<p>Cristobal rushed eagerly toward the flames, +but was pulled away by the people.</p> + +<p>“We cannot drown the fire!” they cried: +“the building must fall! Are the inmates +all safe?”</p> + +<p>“All, thank Heaven!” cried the count.</p> + +<p>“No: <em>Jasper</em>! See, he waves his hand +from the third story! Save him! save my +boy!”</p> + +<p>Jasper had set fire to a curtain with his fatal +Christmas-candle. Now he raved and +shouted in vain: no one would venture up +the ladder.</p> + +<p>“O Little Jesus,” whispered Cristobal, +“give light to my eyes, even as unto my +soul! Let me save Jasper!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +At once the iron band fell from Cristobal’s +vision. He saw, and, at the same moment, +felt a supernatural strength. He tore away +from the restraining arms of the people; he +rushed up the ladder, shouting, “In the +name of the Little Jesus!” He reached the +window, heedless of his scorched arms. +“Jasper!” he cried, seizing the half-conscious +boy, “be not afraid: I have the strength to +carry you.”</p> + +<p>And down the ladder he bore him, step by +step, through the crackling flames.</p> + +<p>Jasper was revived; and the fainting Cristobal +was borne through the streets in the +arms of the populace.</p> + +<p>“Wonder of wonders!” they all shouted.</p> + +<p>“It was the Little Jesus,” gasped Cristobal: +“he opened my eyes; he guided me +up the ladder, and down again!”</p> + +<p>“Hallelujah!” was now the cry. “On the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +birthday of our Lord, the blind receive their +sight.”</p> + +<p>“It is a triumph of faith,” said the saints +reverently.</p> + +<p>“A miracle,” murmured the nuns, making +the sign of the cross.</p> + +<p>“Not a miracle,” replied the wise doctors, +after they had first consulted their books: +“it is only the electrifying of the optic +nerve.”</p> + +<p>But hardly any two could agree, and what +was so mysterious at the time is no clearer +now.</p> + +<p>“Dear little Cristobal,” sobbed the broken-hearted +Jasper, “how could you forgive +such a wicked boy as I?”</p> + +<p>“It was very easy,” replied Cristobal, +“when once the Little Jesus called me +‘brother,’ and bade me pray for you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh that I could repay you for your +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +wonderful deed of love,” said Jasper, through +his tears.</p> + +<p>“Do not thank me,” whispered Cristobal, +with a look of awe; “thank the Little Jesus. +And when he comes again next year, to ask +what feelings we hold in our hearts, let us +both be ready for Christmas.”</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<h2>WILD ROBIN.</h2> + +<h3>A SCOTTISH FAIRY TALE.</h3> + + +<p>In the green valley of the Yarrow, near +the castle-keep of Norham, dwelt an honest, +sonsy little family, whose only grief was an +unhappy son, named Robin.</p> + +<p>Janet, with jimp form, bonnie eyes, and +cherry cheeks, was the best of daughters; +the boys, Sandie and Davie, were swift-footed, +brave, kind, and obedient; but Robin, the +youngest, had a stormy temper, and, when +his will was crossed, he became as reckless +as a reeling hurricane. Once, in a passion, +he drove two of his father’s “kye,” or cattle, +down a steep hill to their death. He seemed +not to care for home or kindred, and often +pierced the tender heart of his mother with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +sharp words. When she came at night, and +“happed” the bed-clothes carefully about his +form, and then stooped to kiss his nut-brown +cheeks, he turned away with a frown, muttering, +“Mither, let me be.”</p> + +<p>It was a sad case with Wild Robin, who +seemed to have neither love nor conscience.</p> + +<p>“My heart is sair,” sighed his mother, +“wi’ greeting over sich a son.”</p> + +<p>“He hates our auld cottage and our muckle +wark,” said the poor father. “Ah, weel! I +could a’maist wish the fairies had him for a +season, to teach him better manners.”</p> + +<p>This the gudeman said heedlessly, little +knowing there was any danger of Robin’s +being carried away to Elf-land. Whether the +fairies were at that instant listening under +the eaves, will never be known; but it +chanced, one day, that Wild Robin was sent +across the moors to fetch the kye.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +“I’ll rin away,” thought the boy: “’tis +hard indeed if ilka day a great lad like me +must mind the kye. I’ll gae aff; and they’ll +think me dead.”</p> + +<p>So he gaed, and he gaed, over round swelling +hills, over old battle-fields, past the roofless +ruins of houses whose walls were +crowned with tall climbing grasses, till he +came to a crystal sheet of water, called St. +Mary’s Loch. Here he paused to take +breath. The sky was dull and lowering; but +at his feet were yellow flowers, which shone, +on that gray day, like freaks of sunshine.</p> + +<p>He threw himself wearily upon the grass, +not heeding that he had chosen his couch within +a little mossy circle known as a “fairy’s +ring.” Wild Robin knew that the country +people would say the fays had pressed that +green circle with their light feet. He had +heard all the Scottish lore of brownies, elves, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +will-o’-the-wisps, and the strange water-kelpies, +who shriek with eldritch laughter. He +had been told that the queen of the fairies +had coveted him from his birth, and would +have stolen him away, only that, just as she +was about to seize him from the cradle, he +had <em>sneezed</em>; and from that instant the fairy-spell +was over, and she had no more control +of him.</p> + +<p>Yet, in spite of all these stories, the boy +was not afraid; and if he had been informed +that any of the uncanny people were, even +now, haunting his footsteps, he would not +have believed it.</p> + +<p>“I see,” said Wild Robin, “the sun is +drawing his night-cap over his eyes, and +dropping asleep. I believe I’ll e’en take a +nap mysel’, and see what comes o’ it.”</p> + +<p>In two minutes he had forgotten St. Mary’s +Loch, the hills, the moors, the yellow flowers. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +He heard, or fancied he heard, his sister +Janet calling him home.</p> + +<p>“And what have ye for supper?” he muttered +between his teeth.</p> + +<p>“Parritch and milk,” answered the lassie +gently.</p> + +<p>“Parritch and milk! Whist! say nae mair! +Lang, lang may ye wait for Wild Robin: +he’ll not gae back for oat-meal parritch!”</p> + +<p>Next a sad voice fell on his ear.</p> + +<p>“Mither’s; and she mourns me dead!” +thought he; but it was only the far-off village-bell, +which sounded like the echo of +music he had heard lang syne, but might +never hear again.</p> + +<p>“D’ye think I’m not alive?” tolled the +bell. “I sit all day in my little wooden temple, +brooding over the sins of the parish.”</p> + +<p>“A brazen lie!” cried Robin.</p> + +<p>“Nay, the truth, as I’m a living soul! +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +Wae worth ye, Robin Telfer: ye think yersel’ +hardly used. Say, have your brithers +softer beds than yours? Is your ain father +served with larger potatoes or creamier buttermilk? +Whose mither sae kind as yours, +ungrateful chiel? Gae to Elf-land, Wild Robin; +and dool and wae follow ye! dool and +wae follow ye!”</p> + +<p>The round yellow sun had dropped behind +the hills; the evening breezes began to blow; +and now could be heard the faint trampling +of small hoofs, and the tinkling of tiny bridle-bells: +the fairies were trooping over the +ground. First of all rode the queen.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her mantle of the velvet fine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At ilka tress of her horse’s mane<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hung fifty silver bells and nine.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>But Wild Robin’s closed eyes saw nothing; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +his sleep-sealed ears heard nothing. The +queen of fairies dismounted, stole up to him, +and laid her soft fingers on his cheeks.</p> + +<p>“Here is a little man after my ain heart,” +said she: “I like his knitted brow, and the +downward curve of his lips. Knights, lift +him gently, set him on a red-roan steed, and +waft him away to Fairy-land.”</p> + +<p>Wild Robin was lifted as gently as a brown +leaf borne by the wind; he rode as softly as +if the red-roan steed had been saddled with +satin, and shod with velvet. It even may be +that the faint tinkling of the bridle-bells +lulled him into a deeper slumber; for when +he awoke it was morning in Fairy-land.</p> + +<p>Robin sprang from his mossy couch, and +stared about him. Where was he? He +rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Dreaming, +no doubt; but what meant all these nimble +little beings bustling hither and thither +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +in hot haste? What meant these pearl-bedecked +caves, scarcely larger than swallows’ +nests? these green canopies, overgrown with +moss? He pinched himself, and gazed again. +Countless flowers nodded to him, and +seemed, like himself, on tiptoe with curiosity, +he thought. He beckoned one of the busy, +dwarfish little brownies toward him.</p> + +<p>“I ken I’m talking in my sleep,” said the +lad; “but can ye tell me what dell is this, +and how I chanced to be in it?”</p> + +<p>The brownie might or might not have +heard; but, at any rate, he deigned no reply, +and went on with his task, which was pounding +seeds in a stone mortar.</p> + +<p>“Am I Robin Telfer, of the Valley of +Yarrow, and yet canna shake aff my silly +dreams?”</p> + +<p>“Weel, my lad,” quoth the queen of the +fairies, giving him a smart tap with her wand, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +“stir yersel’, and be at work; for naebody +idles in Elf-land.”</p> + +<p>Bewildered Robin ventured a look at the +little queen. By daylight she seemed somewhat +sleepy and tired; and was withal so +tiny, that he might almost have taken her between +his thumb and finger, and twirled her +above his head; yet she poised herself before +him on a mullein-stalk, and looked every +inch a queen. Robin found her gaze oppressive; +for her eyes were hard and cold +and gray, as if they had been little orbs of +granite.</p> + +<p>“Get ye to work, Wild Robin!”</p> + +<p>“What to do?” meekly asked the boy, +hungrily glancing at a few kernels of rye +which had rolled out of one of the brownie’s +mortars.</p> + +<p>“Are ye hungry, my laddie? touch a +grain of rye if ye dare! Shell these dry +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +bains; and if so be ye’re starving, eat as +many as ye can boil in an acorn-cup.”</p> + +<p>With these words she gave the boy a withered +bean-pod, and, summoning a meek little +brownie, bade him see that the lad did not +over-fill the acorn-cup, and that he did not so +much as peck at a grain of rye. Then, +glancing sternly at her unhappy prisoner, she +withdrew, sweeping after her the long train +of her green robe.</p> + +<p>The dull days crept by, and still there +seemed no hope that Wild Robin would ever +escape from his beautiful but detested prison. +He had no wings, poor laddie; and he could +neither become invisible nor draw himself +through a keyhole bodily.</p> + +<p>It is true, he had mortal companions: +many chubby babies; many bright-eyed +boys and girls, whose distracted parents +were still seeking them, far and wide, upon +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +the earth. It would almost seem that the +wonders of Fairy-land might make the little +prisoners happy. There were countless treasures +to be had for the taking, and the very +dust in the little streets was precious with +specks of gold: but the poor children shivered +for the want of a mother’s love; they +all pined for the dear home-people. If a certain +task seemed to them particularly irksome, +the heartless queen was sure to find it +out, and oblige them to perform it, day after +day. If they disliked any article of food, +that, and no other, were they forced to eat, +or starve.</p> + +<p>Wild Robin, loathing his withered beans +and unsalted broths, longed intensely for one +little breath of fragrant steam from the toothsome +parritch on his father’s table, one glance +at a roasted potato. He was homesick for +the gentle sister he had neglected, the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +rough brothers whose cheeks he had pelted +black and blue; and yearned for the very +chinks in the walls, the very thatch on the +home-roof.</p> + +<p>Gladly would he have given every fairy-flower, +at the root of which clung a lump of +gold ore, if he might have had his own coverlet +“happed” about him once more by the +gentle hands he had despised.</p> + +<p>“Mither,” he whispered in his dreams, +“my shoon are worn, and my feet bleed; but +I’ll soon creep hame, if I can. Keep the +parritch warm for me.”</p> + +<p>Robin was as strong as a mountain-goat; +and his strength was put to the task of threshing +rye, grinding oats and corn, or drawing +water from a brook.</p> + +<p>Every night, troops of gay fairies and plodding +brownies stole off on a visit to the upper +world, leaving Robin and his companions +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +in ever deeper despair. Poor Robin! he +was fain to sing,—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Oh that my father had ne’er on me smiled!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Oh that my mother had ne’er to me sung!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh that my cradle had never been rocked,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But that I had died when I was young!”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Now, there was one good-natured brownie +who pitied Robin. When he took a journey to +earth with his fellow-brownies, he often +threshed rye for the laddie’s father, or +churned butter in his good mother’s dairy, +unseen and unsuspected. If the little creature +had been watched, and paid for these +good offices, he would have left the farmhouse +forever in sore displeasure.</p> + +<p>To homesick Robin he brought news of +the family who mourned him as dead. He +stole a silky tress of Janet’s fair hair, and +wondered to see the boy weep over it; for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +brotherly affection is a sentiment which +never yet penetrated the heart of a brownie. +The dull little sprite would gladly have +helped the poor lad to his freedom, but told +him that only on one night of the year was +there the least hope, and that was on Hallow-e’en, +when the whole nation of fairies +ride in procession through the streets of +earth.</p> + +<p>So Robin was instructed to spin a dream, +which the kind brownie would hum in +Janet’s ear while she slept. By this means +the lassie would not only learn that her +brother was in the power of the elves, but +would also learn how to release him.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, the night before Hallow-e’en, +the bonnie Janet dreamed that the long-lost +Robin was living in Elf-land, and that he +was to pass through the streets with a cavalcade +of fairies. But, alas! how should even +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +a sister know him in the dim starlight, among +the passing troops of elfish and mortal riders? +The dream assured her that she +might let the first company go by, and the +second; but Robin would be one of the +third:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“First let pass the black, Janet,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And syne let pass the brown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But grip ye to the milk-white steed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And pull the rider down.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For <em>I</em> ride on the milk-white steed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And aye nearest the town:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because I was a christened lad<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They gave me that renown.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My right hand will be gloved, Janet;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My left hand will be bare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And these the tokens I give thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No doubt I will be there.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +<span class="i0">They’ll shape me in your arms, Janet,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A toad, snake, and an eel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hold me fast, nor let me gang,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As you do love me weel.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They’ll shape me in your arms, Janet,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A dove, bat, and a swan:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cast your green mantle over me,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I’ll be myself again.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The good sister Janet, far from remembering +any of the old sins of her brother, wept +for joy to know that he was yet among the living. +She told no one of her strange dream; +but hastened secretly to the Miles Cross, saw +the strange cavalcade pricking through the +greenwood, and pulled down the rider on the +milk-white steed, holding him fast through all +his changing shapes. But when she had +thrown her green mantle over him, and +clasped him in her arms as her own brother +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +Robin, the angry voice of the fairy queen +was heard:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Up then spake the queen of fairies,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Out of a bush of rye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">‘You’ve taken away the bonniest lad<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In all my companie.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">‘Had I but had the wit, yestreen,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That I have learned to-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I’d pinned the sister to her bed<br /></span> +<span class="i1">E’re he’d been won away!’”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>However, it was too late now. Wild Robin +was safe, and the elves had lost their power +over him forever. His forgiving parents +and his leal-hearted brothers welcomed him +home with more than the old love.</p> + +<p>So grateful and happy was the poor laddie, +that he nevermore grumbled at his oat-meal +parritch, or minded his kye with a scowling +brow.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +But to the end of his days, when he heard +mention of fairies and brownies, his mind +wandered off in a mizmaze. He died in +peace, and was buried on the banks of the +Yarrow.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE VESPER STAR.</h2> + + +<p>Once upon a time, the new moon was shining +like a silver bow in the heavens, and the +stars glittered and trembled as if they were +afraid.</p> + +<p>“What frightens you?” said the placid +Moon; “be calm, like me.”</p> + +<p>“I am freezing,” answered the North Star; +“that is why I shake.”</p> + +<p>“We are dancing,” said the Seven Sisters; +“and, watch as closely as you please, you can +never get a fair peep at our golden sandals, +our feet twinkle so.”</p> + +<p>“I am sleepy,” grumbled the Great Bear; +“I am trying to keep my eyes open. Perhaps +that is the reason I wink so much.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +Thus, with one accord, they made excuses +to the pale Moon, who is their guardian,—all +but the sweet Vesper Star: she was silent; +and when a white cloud floated by, she +was glad of an excuse to hide her face.</p> + +<p>“Let the North Star shiver, and the Seven +Sisters dance, and all the golden stars hold a +revel,” thought she; “as for me, I am sad.”</p> + +<p>For you must know that the Vesper Star +has a task to perform, and is not allowed to +sleep. She keeps vigil over the Earth, by +night; and never ceases her watch till the +world is up in the morning. For the sick +and sad, who cannot sleep, she feels an unutterable +pity, so that her heart is always +throbbing with sorrow.</p> + +<p>The Moon looked at the Vesper Star, and +said, “Dream on, sweet sister; for you, the +noblest of all, have told me no falsehood.”</p> + +<p>This the Moon said because she knew that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +none of the stars had given a true reason for +twinkling so gayly that night. The truth was, +they were filled with envy, and were trying +to be as brilliant as possible, to compete with +a flaming Comet which had just appeared in +the sky.</p> + +<p>It is not for man to know how long and +how peacefully the gentle stars had travelled +together, doing the work which God has appointed, +without a murmur. But now that +this distinguished stranger had arrived, the +whole firmament was in dismay. How +proudly he strode the heavens! how his +blaze illumined the sky! The Stars whispered +one to another, and cast angry eyes on +the shining wonder.</p> + +<p>“Make way for me,” he said, sweeping +after him a glorious train of light.</p> + +<p>“Not I,” muttered the fiery Mars.</p> + +<p>“Not I,” quoth the majestic Jupiter; “I +do not move an inch.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +The Comet flashed with a lofty disdain.</p> + +<p>“Puny Stars,” said he, “keep your places, +give out all your light,—nobody heeds you; +the place of honor is always by the Vesper +Star; here I make my throne.”</p> + +<p>The Vesper Star smiled sadly, but without +a twinge of envy.</p> + +<p>“Welcome, shining one! Warm me with +your fires; let us work together.”</p> + +<p>“Work!” cried the Comet, throwing out +sparkles of scorn; “I was not born to work, +but to <em>shine</em>!”</p> + +<p>“Indeed!” said the Vesper Star; “you +have come into strange company, then; for +here we all work with a good will.” “He +does not burn with the true fire,” thought +the good Star; and she wrapped herself +about with a soft cloud, and said no more.</p> + +<p>“Oh that I could be set on fire like the +Comet!” thought the cold North Star. “I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +would gladly burn to death if I could astonish +the world with my blaze!”</p> + +<p>“Let us die!” said the Seven Sisters; +“let us die together; we have ceased to be +noticed.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, hum!” growled the Great Bear; +“so many years as I have kept watch in this +sky; and now to be set one side by this upstart +of a foreigner! I’ve a great mind to +go to sleep and never wake up!”</p> + +<p>“Hush!” whispered the Vesper Star gently; +“do your duty, and trust God for the +rest.”</p> + +<p>And lo! that very night there was an end +of the Comet’s splendor.</p> + +<p>“Adieu, my dull friends,” said he; “I am +tired of a quiet life: a little more, and I +should fade out entirely!”</p> + +<p>Then, with a blaze and a whiz, and a dizzy +wheel, he flashed out of the sky; and no one +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +knew whither he went, or whence he came, +any more than the path of the quick lightning.</p> + +<p>The stars were ashamed of their envy, and +went to their old work with a stronger will +and a steadier purpose: but to the Vesper +Star was given a brighter and sweeter light +than to any other, because she had done her +work without envy and without repining.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE WATER-KELPIE.</h2> + + +<p>Once there lived under the earth a race +of fairies called gnomes. They were strange +little beings, with dull eyes and harsh voices; +but they did no harm, and lived in peace.</p> + +<p>They never saw the sun; but they had +lamps much brighter than our gaslight, which +burned night and day, year after year.</p> + +<p>They had music; but it was the tinkling +of silver bells and golden harps,—not half +so sweet as the singing of birds and the babbling +of brooks.</p> + +<p>Flowers they had none, but plenty of +gems,—“the stars of earth.” There were +green trees in the kingdom: but the leaves +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +were hard emeralds; and the fruit, apples of +gold or cherries of ruby; and these precious +gems the gnomes ground to powder, and +swallowed with much satisfaction.</p> + +<p>They heaped up piles of gold and diamonds +as high as your head; and never was +there a gnome so poor as to build a house of +any thing a whit coarser than jasper or onyx. +You would have believed yourself dreaming, +if you could have walked through the streets +of their cities. They were paved with rosy +almandine and snowy alabaster; and the palaces +glittered in the gay lamplight like a +million stars.</p> + +<p>These gnomes led, for the most part, +rather dull lives. Like their cousins, the +water-sprites, or undines, they were roguish +and shrewd, but had no higher views of life +than our katydids and crickets. Indeed, +they hardly cared for any thing but frisking +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +about, eating and sleeping. But, after all, +what can be expected of creatures without +souls? One sees, now and then, stupid human +beings, whose eyes have no thoughts in +them, and whose souls seem to be sound +asleep. Such lumps of dulness might almost +as well be gnomes, and slip into the earth +and have done with it.</p> + +<p>These underground folk had a great horror +of our world. They knew all about it; +for one of them had peeped out and taken a +bird’s-eye view. He went up very bravely, +but hurried back with such strange accounts, +that his friends considered him a little insane.</p> + +<p>“Listen!” said the gnome, whose name was +Clod. “The earth has a soft carpet, of a new +kind of emerald; overhead is a blue roof, +made of turquoise; but I am told that there +is a crack in it, and sometimes water comes +pouring down in torrents. But the worst +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +plague of all is a great glaring eye-ball of +fire, which mortals call the sun.”</p> + +<p>When Clod told his stories of the earth, he +always ended by saying,—</p> + +<p>“Believe me, it is bad luck to have the +sun shine on you. It nearly put my eyes +out; and I have had the headache ever +since.”</p> + +<p>Now, there was a young girl, named Moneta, +who listened very eagerly to the old +gnome’s stories of the earth, and thought she +would like to see it for herself. She was a +kind little maiden, as playful as a kitten; and +her friends were not willing she should go. +But Moneta had somewhere heard that +fairies who marry mortals receive the gift +of a human soul: so, in spite of all objections, +she was resolved to take the journey; +for she had in her dark mind some vague aspirations +after a higher state of being.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +Then the gnome-family declared, that, if +she once went away, they would never allow +her to return; for they highly disapproved +of running backward and forward between +the two worlds, gossiping.</p> + +<p>“Have you no love of country,” cried +they, “that you would willingly cast your +lot among silly creatures who look down +upon your race?”</p> + +<p>The old gnome, who had travelled, took the +romantic maiden one side, and said,—</p> + +<p>“My dear Moneta, since you <em>will</em> go, I +must tell you a secret; for you remember I +have seen the world, and know all about it. +Mortals are a higher race than ourselves, it is +true; but that is only because they live atop +o’ the earth, while we are under their feet. +They make a great parade about their little +ticking jewel they call Conscience; but, after +all, they will any of them sell it for one of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +our ear-rings! I assure you they love money +better than their own souls; and I would advise +you, as a friend that has seen the world, +to load yourself with as much gold as you +can carry.”</p> + +<p>So Moneta donned a heavy dress of spun +gold, which was woven in such a manner, +that, at every motion she made, it let fall a +shower of gold-dust. She filled the sleeves +with sardonyx, almandine, and amethyst; and +hid in her bosom diamonds and sapphires +enough to purchase a kingdom.</p> + +<p>Then she went up a steep ladder, and +knocked on the alabaster ceiling, using the +charm which the gnome had given her:—</p> + +<p>“Mother Earth, Mother Earth, set me +free!”</p> + +<p>At her words there was a sound as of an +earthquake, and a little space was made, just +large enough for her to crawl through. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +When she had reached the top, the earth +closed again, and she was left seated upon a +rock; and the light of the sun was so dazzling, +that she hid her face in her hands.</p> + +<p>Thus she sat for a long time, not knowing +whither to go, till a young man chanced to +come that way, who said, “What do you +here?”</p> + +<p>She raised her face at his words, and could +not speak, so great was her surprise at the +beauty of the strange youth. He, for his +part, could not help smiling; for she was as +yellow as an orange; and an uglier little +creature he had never beheld: but he said +in a kind voice,—</p> + +<p>“Come with me to my mother’s house, and +you shall be refreshed with cake and wine.”</p> + +<p>She arose to follow him; and, as she +walked, a bright shower of gold-dust sprinkled +the earth at every step.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +The young man held out his hands eagerly +to catch the shining spray, thinking he would +like such a rarely-gifted damsel for his wife; +and, in truth, he smiled so sweetly, and +dropped such winning words, that in time he +won her heart and she became his bride.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And, when she cam’ into the kirk,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">She shimmered like the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The belt that was about her waist<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Was a’ with pearles bedone.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>So great was her love for him, that she +forgot her lost home under the earth; and +every day, when she bade her husband +“good-morning,” she placed in his hand a +precious stone; and he kissed her, calling +her his “dear Moneta,” his “heart’s jewel.” +But at last the diamonds, sapphires, and rubies +were all gone; and she was also losing +the power of shedding gold-dust. Then her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +husband frowned on her, and no longer called +her his “heart’s jewel,” or his “dear Moneta.”</p> + +<p>At length she presented him with a little +daughter as lovely as a water-sprite, with +hair like threads of gold. Now the father +watched the babe with a greedy eye; for its +mother had wept precious tears of molten +gold before she received the gift of human +grief, and he hoped her child would do +the same; but, when he found it was only a +common mortal, he shut his heart against the +babe. Moneta was no longer yellow and +ugly, but very beautiful; with deep eyes, out +of which looked a sweet soul: yet she had +lost her fairy gifts, and her husband had +ceased to love her. The good woman +mourned in secret; and would have wished +to die, only her precious child comforted her +heart.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +One day, as she was sitting by the shore +of the lake, a water-kelpie saw her weeping, +and came to her in the form of a white-haired +old man, saying,—</p> + +<p>“Charming lady! why do you weep? +Come with me to my kingdom under the waters. +My people are always happy.”</p> + +<p>Then she looked where he bade her, and +saw, afar down under the waters, a beautiful +city, whose streets were paved with red +and white coral.</p> + +<p>The kelpie said, “Will you go down?”</p> + +<p>“No,” sighed Moneta, thinking of the kind +words her husband had sometimes spoken to +her: “I cannot go yet.”</p> + +<p>But the kelpie came every day, repeating +the question, “Will you go now?” and she +answered, “I cannot go yet.”</p> + +<p>But at last her husband said,—</p> + +<p>“How often the thought comes to me, If +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +I had no wife and child, all this gold would +be mine!” and he knitted his brows with a +frown.</p> + +<p>Then Moneta looked in his face, and +said,—</p> + +<p>“Dear Ivan, I have loved you truly; but +you no longer care for Moneta. I will go +away with the little child, and all our gold +shall be yours. Farewell!”</p> + +<p>Then she embraced him with falling tears. +His heart was stirred within him; and he +would have followed her, only he knew not +which way she had gone.</p> + +<p>Soon the water-kelpie came to him in the +form of a horse; and ran before him, neighing +fiercely, and breathing fire from his +mouth. This is the way kelpies take to announce +the fact that some one has gone under +the water.</p> + +<p>So the man followed the kelpie. His heart +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +was swelling with grief; and all his love for +his wife and child had come back to him.</p> + +<p>He looked into the lake, and saw the fair +city. In a transparent palace Moneta was +sitting, crowned with pearls, the child sleeping +on her bosom. He shouted,—</p> + +<p>“Come back, O Moneta!” but she heard +him not.</p> + +<p>He went every day to the same spot, +never leaving it until the water was clear, +and he had seen his wife and child. He +cared no more for his fine castle and his +gold; for the castle was empty, and the gold +could not speak.</p> + +<p>“Alas,” cried he, “if I could listen to the +music of Moneta’s voice! if I could hold the +child in my arms once more!”</p> + +<p>Now he cared for nothing but to gaze into +the waters at Moneta and her child.</p> + +<p>One day, the water-kelpie appeared to him +in the form of an old man.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 479px;"> +<img src="images/fb02.jpg" width="479" height="600" +alt="Ivan stares down into the water, where Moneta sits with their child" /> +</div> + +<p class="caption">THE WATER-KELPIE. Page <a href="#Page_70">70</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +“Why sit you here, sighing like the north +wind?” said the kelpie.</p> + +<p>“I have loved gold better than my best +friends,” replied Ivan; “and now my best +friends are taken away from me, and the gold +is left; but I love it no longer.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, ah!” growled the kelpie; “I have +heard of such men as you: nothing is dear +till it is missed. You should have thought +of that before. If your lost ones were to +return, you would treat them as badly as +ever, no doubt.”</p> + +<p>“No, no,” groaned Ivan; “I would love +them better than all the wealth in the world! +I would love them better than my own life! +Ah, the sting it is to think of my own ingratitude!”</p> + +<p>“Hold!” said the kelpie: “grumble to +yourself if you like, but don’t vex my ears +with your complaints. Suppose I were to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +bring back Moneta and the child,—would +you give me your chests of gold?”</p> + +<p>“That I will,” cried the man, “right joyfully.”</p> + +<p>“Not so fast: will you give me your castle +as well?”</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes, castle and gold; take them, and +welcome.”</p> + +<p>“Not so fast: Moneta and her child are +worth more than these. Will you give me +the castle and gold, and ten years of your +life?”</p> + +<p>“With all my heart.”</p> + +<p>“Then,” said the kelpie “go home, and +to-morrow you shall see Moneta and her +child.”</p> + +<p>When the morrow came, the husband and +wife wept for joy at meeting once more; and +Ivan said,—</p> + +<p>“Can you forgive me, dearest Moneta?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +Moneta had already forgiven him; and the +three—father, mother, and child—loved +one another, and were content to the end of +their lives; and Ivan said,—</p> + +<p>“Once for all I have found that gold cannot +make one happy; but, with the blessing +of a clear conscience, warm hearts and loving +words are the sweetest things in life.”</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE LOST SYLPHID.</h2> + +<p class="center">“I tell the tale as ’twas told to me.”</p> + + +<p>I have heard that one night, on a distant +shore, a band of water-nixies were dancing +to gentle music, their golden sandals twinkling +like stars.</p> + +<p>A lord and lady were walking on the same +shore. The lord’s eyes were bent on the +ground; but his wife paused, and said,—</p> + +<p>“Listen, my lord, to that enchanting music!”</p> + +<p>“I hear no music,” he replied, laughing. +“You must wake up, dear wife.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“With half-shut eyes, ever you seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Falling asleep in a half-dream.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +“But, my lord, those exquisite beings in +gossamer robes! surely you see them!”</p> + +<p>“I see the play of the moonbeams, my +love, and nothing more.”</p> + +<p>But the wife stood transfixed. One beautiful +fairy, taller and fairer than her companions, +had wings, and floated through the +dance, scarcely touching the earth.</p> + +<p>“Was ever such a vision of loveliness?” +cried the enraptured lady: “she must be my +own little daughter,—eat of my bread, and +sleep upon my bosom.”</p> + +<p>Then, kneeling, she sang,—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Fair little nixies, that dwell near the water,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me the winged one to be my own daughter.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The dance ceased. The nixies, bewildered, +looked north and south, and knew +not which way to flee; but the winged fairy, +attracted by the human love in the lady’s +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +eyes, glided slowly forward. Then the nixies +stormed in fierce wrath, their willowy +figures swaying to and fro as if blown by the +wind.</p> + +<p>“They shall not harm you, little one. +Come with me, be my own daughter, and I +will carry you home.”</p> + +<p>“Home!” echoed the lovely child; “my +home is in the Summer-land. Oh, will you +indeed carry me there?”</p> + +<p>Then she folded her white wings, and +nestled in the lady’s bosom like a gentle +dove, and was borne to a beautiful castle that +overlooked the sea. The water-nixies soon +forgot her, for they could not hold her memory +in their little humming-bird hearts.</p> + +<p>She was not of their race. Her wings +were soft and transparent, like those of a +white butterfly; and she ever declared that +she had once alighted from a cloud, and been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +caught in a nixie’s net spread upon the +grass.</p> + +<p>But, in time, her wings dwindled and disappeared; +and then the lord, who was now her +father, could not remember that she had ever +been other than an earthly child.</p> + +<p>“You fancy you were once a sylphid,” +said he; “but there are no sylphids, my +sweet one, and there is no Summer-land.”</p> + +<p>The child became as dear to the lord and +lady as their very heart’s blood; and they +forgot her foreign birth, and almost believed, +as all the world did, that she was their own +little daughter. But the child did not forget. +She longed for the true home she had +left; but whither should she go to seek +it?</p> + +<p>“Dear papa,” said she, one day, “I beg +you will not say again there are no sylphids; +for I remember so well how I spread my +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +wings and flew. It was glorious to see the +clouds float under my feet!”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said the lord; “if you like, +I will say there are sylphids in the air, and +trolls inside the earth; and, once on a time, +I was myself a great white butterfly: do you +remember chasing me over a bed of roses?”</p> + +<p>“O papa, now you laugh! I love the +twinkle in your eye; and I am so glad it is +you, and no one else, who is my papa; but +just the same, and forevermore, I shall keep +saying, <em>I was a sylphid</em>!”</p> + +<p>Sometimes, when she set her white teeth +into some delicious fruit, she said with +dreamy eyes,—</p> + +<p>“These grapes of Samarcand came across +the seas; but they are not so sweet as the +fruit in my own garden, mamma.”</p> + +<p>“And where is your garden, my child?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, in the Summer-land. I always forget +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +that you have never seen it. When I go +there again, mamma, I will certainly take you +too; for I love you with all my heart. I can +never go without you.”</p> + +<p>When she heard the evening-bells from the +minster, she said, “Oh, they are like the joy-bells +at home, only not so sweet. Nothing, +here, is so sweet. Even my dear mamma is +not so lovely as the lady who comes when I +am asleep.”</p> + +<p>Little One—they called her Little One for +the want of a name—loved to prattle about +the wonders of that mysterious fairy-land, +which no one but herself had ever seen. Her +mother would not check her, but let her tell +her pretty visions of remembered rainbows, +and palaces, and precious gems. She said,—</p> + +<p>“The child has such a vivid fancy! It is +not all of us who can see pictures when our +eyes are shut.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +But the lord was not so well pleased; and +once, when his daughter looked at a frozen +stream and murmured, “<em>We</em> have the <em>happiest</em> +rivers at home; they sing all day long, +all the year, without freezing! Can I find +that Summer-land again! Oh, I would +creep all over the world to seek it,” he +replied,—</p> + +<p>“Little One, it is some cloud-city you are +thinking of, some dream-land, or isle of Long +Ago, which you will never see again. I beg +you to forget these wild fancies.”</p> + +<p>But still the child dreamed on. Once she +heard the glad song of the Hyperboreans:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“I come from a land in the sun-bright deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where golden gardens glow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the winds of the North, becalmed in sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their conch-shells never blow.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>She clapped her hands, murmuring to herself,—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +“<em>There</em> is my home! I think I remember +now it <em>was</em> ‘a land in the sun-bright +deep!’”</p> + +<p>So, when she journeyed with her parents +to distant countries, she always hoped that +some ship would bear her away to the Happy +Isles; and when they once touched a bright +shore, and some one cried, “The isles of +Greece! the isles of Greece!” she thought +she was home at last, and hardly dared look +at the remembered shore. But, alas, she had +not yet reached the Summer-land: this was +not her home.</p> + +<p>Then she heard her father say that the +jewels she wore had been brought up from +the deep places under the earth.</p> + +<p>“I wonder I had not thought of that,” she +said to herself. “Since there are such beautiful +gems in my lost home, it must lie under +the earth. No doubt if I could only find the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +right cave, and walk in it far enough, I +should come to the Summer-land.”</p> + +<p>So she set out, one day, in wild haste, but +only lost herself in a deep cavern; and, when +she found daylight again, she was all alone +upon the face of the earth. Her father and +mother were nowhere to be seen. She +shouted their names, and ran to and fro seeking +them till her strength was all spent. It +was growing dark; and Little One could only +creep under a shelter, and weep herself +asleep.</p> + +<p>Next morning it was no better, but far +worse. Her wretched parents had gone +home, believing her drowned in the sea. +Poor Little One was now all alone in the +world, and her heart ached with the cold. +Kind friends gave her food and shelter, and +her clothing was warm as warm could be; +still her heart ached with the cold. People +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +praised her beauty so much that she dared +not look up to let them see how lovely she +was; but she had lost both her father and +mother, and her heart ached and ached. She +thought winter was coming on; and the +world was growing so chilly, that now she +must certainly set out for the Summer-land. +Then she said,—</p> + +<p>“If I am a sylphid, perhaps my home is +over the hills, and far away. Yes: I think it +must be in the country where the music +goes.”</p> + +<p>For she thought, when she heard music, +that it seemed to hover and float over the +earth, and lose itself in the sky; so she began +to set her face toward the country where +the music goes. But, though she gazed till +her eyes ached, she never saw her long-lost +home, nor so much as a glimpse of one of its +spires.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +One night, after gazing and weeping till +she could scarcely see, and had no tears left, +the bright being who visited her dreams +came and whispered,—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“If there be a land so fair<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O’er the mountain shining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You will never enter there<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By looking up and pining.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>“Dear me! then what shall I do?” said +Little One, clasping her hands. “I am tired +of the dropping rain, and the bleak winds; +I have lost my father and mother; I long to +go home to the Summer-land.”</p> + +<p>“There are hills to climb, and streams to +cross,” said the fairy.</p> + +<p>“But I have stout shoes,” laughed Little +One.</p> + +<p>“There are thorns and briers all along the +road.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +“But I can bear to be pricked.”</p> + +<p>“Then I will guide you,” said the fairy.</p> + +<p>“How can that be?” cried the child. +“You come to me in dreams; but by daylight +I cannot see so much as the tips of +your wings.”</p> + +<p>“Listen, and you will hear my voice,” replied +the fairy. “Set out toward the East, +at dawn, to-morrow, and I will be with you.”</p> + +<p>When Little One awoke, the sun was rising, +and she said,—</p> + +<p>“Oh that golden gate! The sun has left +it open: do you see it, beautiful lady?”</p> + +<p>“I see it,” whispered the fairy: “I am +close beside you.”</p> + +<p>“Then,” said Little One, fastening her +dress, and putting on all the jewels she could +possibly carry, “I think I will set out at +once; for, if I make all speed, I may reach +the Summer-land before that golden gate is +closed.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +She pressed on, as the fairy directed, up a +steep hill, her eyes fixed on the glowing eastern +sky. But, as the sun strode up higher, +the morning clouds melted away.</p> + +<p>“Where is my golden gate?” cried the +child.</p> + +<p>“Weeping so soon?” whispered the fairy.</p> + +<p>“Do not scold me, dear Whisper,” moaned +the child; “you know I have lost my kind +father and mother; and the thorns prick me; +and then this is such a lonely road; there is +nobody to be seen.”</p> + +<p>The truth was, there were children gathering +strawberries on the hill, and old women +digging herbs; but Little One did not see +them, for she was all the while watching the +sky. But she was soon obliged to pause, and +take breath.</p> + +<p>“Look about you,” said the Whisper, “you +may see some one as unhappy as yourself.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +The child looked, and saw a little girl driving +a goat; while large tears trickled down +her cheeks, and moistened her tattered dress. +For a moment, Little One’s heart ceased aching +with its own troubles.</p> + +<p>“What is your name, little girl?” said she: +“and why do you weep?”</p> + +<p>“My name is Poor Dorel,” replied the +child; “my father and mother are long since +dead; and I have nothing to eat but goat’s +milk and strawberries:” and, as she spoke, +the large tears started afresh.</p> + +<p>“Poor Dorel! you are the first one I ever +saw who had as much trouble as I. I, too, +have lost a father and mother.”</p> + +<p>“Were they a king and queen?” asked +Dorel, wiping her eyes, and gazing at Little +One’s beautiful dress and glittering ornaments.</p> + +<p>“They loved me dearly,” replied Little +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +One sadly; “yet I never heard that they +were king and queen. Come with me, darling +Dorel! I never before saw any one who +was hungry. Come with me! I live in a +country where there is food enough for +everybody.”</p> + +<p>“Where is that?” said Dorel, eagerly.</p> + +<p>“I do not quite know, little girl; but it is +not in the bosom of the earth, and it is not in +the sun-bright deep: so I suppose it is over +the hills, and far away.”</p> + +<p>“Now I know who you are,” said Dorel. +“You are the <em>lost sylphid</em>; and people say +you have travelled all over the world. But, +if you do not know the way home, pray how +can you tell which road to take?”</p> + +<p>“Oh! I have a guide,—a beautiful fairy, +called Whisper: she shows me every step of +the way. I wish you would go too, little +Dorel!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +“I think I will not, little Sylphid; for, if +you have only a Whisper for a guide, I do +not believe you will ever get there; but, oh, +you are very, very beautiful!”</p> + +<p>“If you will not go,” said Little One, “let +me, at least, give you a few of my jewels: +you can sell them for bread.”</p> + +<p>So saying, she took from her girdle some +turquoise ornaments, and placed them in Dorel’s +hand with a kiss which had her whole +heart in it.</p> + +<p>“Now I love you,” said Dorel; “but more +for the kiss than any thing else; and I am +going before you to cut down the thorns +that shoot out by the wayside. I am a little +mountain-girl, and know how to use the +pruning-knife.”</p> + +<p>Little One danced for joy. She found she +could now walk with wonderful ease; for not +only were there no more sharp thorns to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +prick her, but her heart was also full of a +new love, which made the whole world look +beautiful.</p> + +<p>“You see the way is growing easier,” said +the Whisper.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Pour out thy love like the rush of a river,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wasting its waters forever and ever.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>“So I will,” said Little One. “Is there +any one else to love?”</p> + +<p>By and by she met an old woman, bent +nearly double, and picking up dry sticks with +trembling hands.</p> + +<p>“Poor woman!” said Little One: “I am +going to love you.”</p> + +<p>“Dear me!” said the old crone, dropping +her sticks, and looking up with surprise in +every wrinkle: “you don’t mean <em>me</em>? Why, +my heart is all dried up.”</p> + +<p>“Then you need to be loved all the more,” +cried Little One heartily.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +The poor woman laughed; but, at the same +time, brushed a tear from her eye with the +corner of her apron.</p> + +<p>“I thought,” said Little One, “I was the +only unhappy one in the world: it seemed +a pity my heart should ache so much; but, +oh, I would rather have it ache than be dried +up!”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you never were beaten,” said +the old woman; “you were never pelted +with whizzing stones?”</p> + +<p>“Indeed I never, never was!” replied Little +One, greatly shocked by the question.</p> + +<p>“By your costly dress, I know you never +were so poor as to be always longing for +food. Let me tell you, my good child, when +one is beaten and scolded, and feels cold all +winter, and hungry all summer, it is no wonder +one’s heart dries up!”</p> + +<p>Little One threw her arms about the old +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +woman’s neck. “Let me help you pick +sticks!” said she; “you are too old for hard +work; your hands tremble too much.”</p> + +<p>Swiftly gathering up a load of fagots, she +put them together in a bundle.</p> + +<p>“Now, how many jewels shall I give her?” +thought the child. “She must never want +for food again.”</p> + +<p>“How many?” echoed the Whisper.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Give as the morning that flows out of heaven:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give as the free air and sunshine are given.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>“Then she shall have half,” said Little +One in great glee. “Here, poor woman, +take these sapphires and rubies and diamonds, +and never be hungry again!”</p> + +<p>“Heavenly child!” said the stranger, laying +her wasted hand on the sylphid’s bright +head, and blessing her, “it is little except +thanks that an old creature like me can give; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +yet may be you will not scorn this pair of little +shoes: they are strong, and, when you +have to step on the sharp mountain-rocks, +they will serve you well.”</p> + +<p>Little One’s delicate slippers were already +much worn, and she gladly exchanged them +for the goat-skin shoes; but, strange to relate, +no sooner had she done so than she +found herself flitting over rocks and rough +places with perfect ease, and at such speed, +that, when she looked back, in a moment, she +had already left the old woman far behind, +and out of sight. They were magical shoes; +but, no matter how fast they skimmed over +the ground, Dorel, out of pure love, continued +to go before, talking and laughing and +smoothing the way.</p> + +<p>One by one Little One sold her jewels to +buy bread, which she shared with all the +needy she chanced to meet. After many +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +days there remained but one gem; and she +wept because she had no more to give. But, +through her tears, she now, for the first time, +fancied she could see the spires and turrets +of her beautiful home, though, as yet, very +far off.</p> + +<p>“How fast I have come!” said she, laughing +with delight. “But for these magical +shoes, and Dorel’s pruning-knife, I should +have been even now struggling at the foot +of the hill.”</p> + +<p>Then she looked down at her torn dress.</p> + +<p>“What a sad plight I am in! no one will +know me when I get home!”</p> + +<p>“Never fear!” said the fairy: “you are +sure to be welcome.”</p> + +<p>Little One now held up her last jewel in +the sunlight, while a starving boy looked at +it with eager eyes.</p> + +<p>“Take it!” said she, weeping with the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +tenderest pity. “I only wish it were a diamond +instead of a ruby,—a diamond as +large as my heart!”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 465px;"> +<img src="images/fb03.jpg" width="465" height="600" +alt="Little One crosses the bridge" /> +</div> + +<p class="caption">THE LOST SYLPHID. Page <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</p> + +<p>The boy blessed her with a tremulous +voice. Little One pressed on, singing softly +to herself, till she came to a frightful chasm, +full of water.</p> + +<p>“How shall I ever cross it!” she cried in +alarm.</p> + +<p>“May I help you, fair Sylphid?” said the +grateful boy to whom she had given her last +jewel. “I can make a bridge in the twinkling +of an eye.”</p> + +<p>So saying, he threw across the roaring +torrent a film which looked as frail as any +spider’s web.</p> + +<p>“It will bear you,” said the Whisper: “do +not be afraid!”</p> + +<p>So Little One ventured upon the gossamer +bridge, which was to the eye as delicate as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +mist; but to the feet as strong as adamant. +She hushed her fears, and walked over it +with a stout heart.</p> + +<p>Now, she was on the borders of the Summer-land. +Here were the turrets and spires, +the soft white clouds, the green fields, and +sunny streams. Instantly her long-lost wings +appeared again; and she spread them like a +happy bird, and flew home. Oh, it was +worth years of longing and pain! She was +held in tender embraces, and kissed lovingly +by well-remembered friends. To her great +surprise and delight, her father and mother +were both there—they had arrived at the +Summer-land while seeking their Little One.</p> + +<p>“Now I know,” said her father, “that my +daughter was not dreaming when she longed +for her remembered home.”</p> + +<p>Little One looked at her soiled dress; but +the stains had disappeared; and, most +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +wonderful! all the jewels she had worn on her +neck and arms, and in her girdle, were there +yet, burning with increased brilliancy. Little +One gazed again, and counted to see if +any were missing. Yes: two she had sold for +bread were not there. It was the jewels she +had <em>given away</em> which had come back in +some mysterious manner and were more resplendent +than before.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” said she, with a beaming smile, +“now I know what it means when they say, +‘All you give, you will carry with you.’ It +was delightful to scatter my gems by the +wayside; but I did not think they would all +be given back to me when I reached home!”</p> + +<p>Then, intwining arms with a bright sylphid, +she flew with her over the gardens in +a trance of delight.</p> + +<p>“Here,” said Little One, “is my own dear +garden. I remember the border and the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +paths right well; but it never bore such +golden fruit, it never glowed with such beautiful +flowers.”</p> + +<p>“Your fairy, the one you call Whisper, has +taken care of it for your sake,” said the +sister sylphid. “Do you know that those +flowers, and those trees with fruit like ‘bonny +beaten gold,’ have been watered by your +tears, Little One? It is in this way they +have attained their matchless beauty and +grace.”</p> + +<p>“<em>My tears</em>, little sister?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, your tears. Every one you shed +upon earth, your fairy most carefully preserved; +and see what wonders have been +wrought!”</p> + +<p>“If I had known that,” said Little One +clapping her hands, “I would have been <em>glad</em> +of all my troubles! I would have smiled +through my tears!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +Now I know no more than I have told of +this story of the Lost Sylphid. I tell the +tale as ’twas told to me; and I wish, with all +my heart, it were true.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE CASTLE OF GEMS.</h2> + + +<p>Once upon a time, though I cannot tell +when, and in what country I do not now remember, +there lived a maiden as fair as a +lily, as gentle as a dewdrop, and as modest +as a violet. A pure, sweet name she had,—it +was Blanche.</p> + +<p>She stood one evening, with her friend +Victor, by the shore of a lake. Never had +the youth or maiden seen the moonlight so +enchanting; but they did not know</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“It was midsummer day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all the fairy people<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From elf-land come away.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Presently, while they gazed at the lake, +which shone like liquid emerald and sapphire +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +and topaz, a boat, laden with strangely beautiful +beings, glided towards them across the +waters. The fair voyagers were clad in +robes of misty blue with white mantles +about their waists, and on their heads +wreaths of valley-lilies.</p> + +<p>They were all as fair as need be; but fairest +of all was the helms-woman, the queen of +the fairies. Her face was soft and clear like +moonlight; and she wore a crown of nine +large diamonds, which refracted the evening +rays, and formed nine lunar rainbows.</p> + +<p>The fairies were singing a roundelay; and, +as the melody floated over the waters, Victor +and Blanche listened with throbbing hearts. +Fairy music has almost passed away from the +earth; but those who hear it are strangely +moved, and have dreams of beautiful things +which have been, and may be again.</p> + +<p>“It makes me think of the days of long +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +ago when there was no sin,” whispered +Blanche.</p> + +<p>“It makes me long to be a hero,” answered +Victor with a sparkling eye.</p> + +<p>All the while the pearly boat was drifting +toward the youth and maiden; and, when it +had touched the shore, the queen stepped +out upon the land as lightly as if she had +been made entirely of dewdrops.</p> + +<p>“I am Fontana,” said she; “and is this +Blanche?”</p> + +<p>She laid her soft hand upon the maiden’s +shoulder; and Blanche thought she +would like to die then and there, so full was +she of joy.</p> + +<p>“I have heard of thy good heart, my +maiden: now what would please thee +most?” said the queen.</p> + +<p>Blanche bowed her head, and dared not +speak.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +Queen Fontana smiled: when she smiled +it was as if a soft cloud had slid away from +the moon, revealing a beautiful light.</p> + +<p>“Say pearls and diamonds,” said Victor in +her ear.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” whispered Blanche: “they +are not the best things.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said the queen kindly: “pearls and +diamonds are <em>not</em> the best things.”</p> + +<p>Then Blanche knew that her whisper had +been overheard, and she hid her face in +her hands for shame. But the queen +only smiled down on her, and, without speaking, +dropped into the ground a little seed. +Right at the feet of Blanche, it fell; and, in a +moment, two green leaves shot upward, and +between them a spotless lily, which hung its +head with modest grace.</p> + +<p>Victor gazed at the perfect flower in wonder, +and, before he knew it, said aloud, “Ah, +how like Blanche!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +The queen herself broke it from the stem, +and gave it to the maiden, saying,—</p> + +<p>“Take it! it is my choicest gift. Till it +fades (which will never be), love will be +thine; and, in time to come, it will have +power to open the strongest locks, and swing +back the heaviest doors.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘Gates of brass cannot withstand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One touch of this magic wand.’”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Blanche looked up to thank the queen; +but no words came,—only tears.</p> + +<p>“I see a wish in thine eyes,” said Fontana.</p> + +<p>“It is for Victor,” faltered Blanche, at +last: “he wishes to be rich and great.”</p> + +<p>The queen looked grave.</p> + +<p>“Shall I make him one of the great men +of the earth, little Blanche? Then he may +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +one day go to the ends of the world, and forget +thee.”</p> + +<p>Blanche only smiled, and Victor’s cheek +flushed.</p> + +<p>“I shall be a great man,” said he,—“perhaps +a prince; but, where I go, Blanche shall +go: she will be my wife.”</p> + +<p>“That is well,” said the queen: “never +forget Blanche, for her love will be your +dearest blessing.”</p> + +<p>Then, removing from her girdle a pair of +spectacles, she placed them in the youth’s +hand. He drew back in surprise. “Does +she take me for an old man?” thought he. +He had expected a casket of gems at least; +perhaps a crown.</p> + +<p>“Wait,” said Fontana: “they are the eyes +of Wisdom. When you have learned their +use, you will not despise my gift. Keep a +pure heart, and always remember Blanche. +And now farewell!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +So saying, she moved on to the boat, floating +over the ground as softly as a creeping +mist.</p> + +<p>When Blanche awoke next morning, her +first thought was, “Happy are the maidens +who have sweet dreams!” for she thought +she had only been wandering in a midsummer’s +night’s dream; so, when she saw her lily +in the broken pitcher where she had placed +it, great was her delight. But a change had +come over it during the night. It was no +longer a common lily,—its petals were large +pearls, and the green leaves were now green +emeralds. This strange thing had happened +to the flower, that it might never fade.</p> + +<p>After this, people looked at Blanche, and +said, “How is it? she grows fairer every +day!” and every one loved her; for the human +heart has no choice but to love what is +good and gentle.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +As for Victor, he at first put on his spectacles +with a scornful smile: but, when he had +worn them a moment, he found them very +wonderful things. When he looked through +them, he could see people’s thoughts written +out on their faces; he could easily decipher +the fine writing which you see traced on +green leaves; and found there were long +stories written on pebbles in little black and +gray dots.</p> + +<p>When he wore the spectacles, he looked so +wise, that Blanche hardly dared speak to him. +She saw that one day he was to become a +great man.</p> + +<p>At last Victor said he must leave his home, +and sail across the seas. Tears filled the +eyes of Blanche; but the youth whispered,—</p> + +<p>“I am going away to find a home for you +and me: so adieu, dearest Blanche!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +Now Victor thought the ship in which he +sailed moved very slowly; for he longed to +reach the land which he could see through +his magic spectacles: it was a beautiful kingdom, +rich with mines of gold and silver.</p> + +<p>When the ship touched shore, the streets +were lined with people who walked to and +fro with sad faces. The king’s daughter, a +beautiful young maiden, was very ill; and it +was feared she must die.</p> + +<p>Victor asked one of the people if there +was no hope.</p> + +<p>It so happened that this man was the +greatest physician in the kingdom and he +answered,—</p> + +<p>“Alas, there is no hope!”</p> + +<p>Then Victor went to a distant forest where +he knew a healing spring was to be found. +Very few remembered it was there; and +those who had seen it did not know of its +power to heal disease.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +Victor filled a crystal goblet with the precious +water, and carried it to the palace. +The old king shook his head sadly, but consented +to let the attendants moisten the +parched lips of the princess with the water, +as it could do no harm. Far from doing +harm, it wrought a great good; and, in time, +the royal maiden was restored to health.</p> + +<p>Then, for gratitude, the king would have +given his daughter to Victor for a wife; but +Victor remembered Blanche, and knew that +no other maiden must be bride of his.</p> + +<p>Not long after this, the king was lost overboard +at sea during a storm. Now the people +must have a new ruler. They determined +to choose a wise and brave man; and, +young as he was, no man could be found +braver and wiser than Victor: so the people +elected him for their king. Thus Fontana’s +gift of the eyes of Wisdom had made him +truly “one of the great men of earth.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +In her humble home, Blanche dreamed +every night of Victor, and hoped he would +grow good, if he did not become great; and +Victor remembered Blanche, and knew that +her love was his dearest blessing.</p> + +<p>“This old palace,” thought he, “will never +do for my beautiful bride.”</p> + +<p>So he called together his people, and told +them he must have a castle of gems. Some +of the walls were to be of rubies, some of +emeralds, some of pearls. There was to be +any amount of beaten gold for doors and +pillars; and the ceilings were to be of milk-white +opals, with a rosy light which comes +and goes.</p> + +<p>All was done as he desired; and, when the +castle of gems was finished, it would need a +pen of jasponyx dipped in rainbows to describe +it.</p> + +<p>Victor thought he would not have a guard +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +of soldiers for his castle, but would lock the +four golden gates with a magic key, so that +no one could enter unless the gates should +swing back of their own accord.</p> + +<p>When the castle of gems was just completed, +and not a soul was in it, Victor locked +the gates with a magic key, and then dropped +the key into the ocean.</p> + +<p>“Now,” thought he, “I have done a wise +thing. None but the good and true can enter +my castle of gems. The gates will not swing +open for men with base thoughts or proud +hearts!”</p> + +<p>Then he hid himself under the shadow of +a tree, and watched the people trying to +enter. But they were proud men, and so the +gates would not open.</p> + +<p>King Victor laughed, and said to himself,—</p> + +<p>“I have done a wise thing with my magic +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +key. How safe I shall be in my castle of +gems!”</p> + +<p>So he stepped out of his hiding-place, and +said to the people,—</p> + +<p>“None but the good and true can get in.”</p> + +<p>Then he tried to go in himself; but the +gates would not move.</p> + +<p>The king bowed his head in shame, and +walked back to his old palace.</p> + +<p>“Alas!” said he to himself, “wise and +great as I am, I thought <em>I</em> could go in. I see +it must be because I am filled with pride. +Let me hide my face; for what would +Blanche say if she knew, that, because my +heart is proud, I am shut out of my own castle? +I am not worthy that she should love +me; but I hope I shall learn of her to be +humble and good.”</p> + +<p>The next day he sailed for the home of his +childhood. When Blanche saw him, she +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +blushed, and cast down her eyes; but Victor +knew they were full of tears of joy. He +held her hand, and whispered,—</p> + +<p>“Will you go with me and be my bride, +beautiful Blanche?”</p> + +<p>“I will go with you,” she answered softly; +and Victor’s heart rejoiced.</p> + +<p>All the while Blanche never dreamed that +he was a great prince, and that the men who +came with him were his courtiers.</p> + +<p>When they reached Victor’s kingdom, and +the people shouted “Long live the queen!” +Blanche veiled her face, and trembled; for +Victor whispered in her ear that the shouts +were for her. And, as the people saw her +beautiful face through her gossamer veil, +they cried all the more loudly,—</p> + +<p>“Long live Queen Blanche! Thrice welcome, +fair lady!”</p> + +<p>The sun was sinking in the west, and his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +rays fell with dazzling splendor upon the castle +of gems. When Blanche saw the silent, +closed castle and its golden gates, she remembered +the words of Queen Fontana, who +had said that her lily should have power to +“open the strongest locks, and swing back +the heaviest doors.”</p> + +<p>Like one walking in a dream, she led Victor +toward the resplendent castle. She +touched, with her lily, the lock which fastened +one of the gates.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Gates of gold could not withstand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One touch of that magic wand.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>In an instant, the hinges trembled; and the +massive door swung open so far, that forty +people could walk in side by side. Then it +slowly closed, and locked itself without +noise.</p> + +<p>One of the people who passed in was the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +king, whose heart was no longer proud. The +others, who had entered unwittingly, could +not speak for wonder. Some of them were +poor, and some were lame or blind; but all +were good and true.</p> + +<p>At the rising of the moon a wonderful +thing came to pass. The people entered the +castle of gems, and became beautiful. This +was through the power of the magic lily.</p> + +<p>Now there were no more crooked backs +and lame feet and sightless eyes; and the +king looked at these people, who were beautiful +as well as good, and declared he would +have them live in the castle; and the gentlemen +should be knights; and the ladies, +maids of honor.</p> + +<p>To this day Victor and Blanche rule the +kingdom; and such is the charm of the lily,—so +like the pure heart of the queen,—that +the people are becoming gentle and good.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +Until Queen Fontana shall call for the +magic spectacles and the lily of pearl, it is +believed that Victor and Blanche will live in +the castle of gems, though the time should be +a hundred years.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE ELF OF LIGHT.</h2> + +<h3>A NORSE TALE.</h3> + + +<p>In the strange island of Iceland, thrown +up, by fire, from the depths of the sea, there +once lived a lad who worshipped the god +Odin, and was taught from two absurd books +called the Eddas. He wished to fight and +die on a battle-field, so that his soul might +cross a rainbow-bridge, and dwell in the +beautiful halls of Valhalla. There—so the +Eddas say—are the chosen heroes, who are +forever fighting all day, and feasting all +night.</p> + +<p>Thus, instead of a Bible, young Thule +studied wild fairy-tales; yet, for all his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +heathenish training, he had some noble traits, +which a Christian lad might imitate.</p> + +<p>He lived with his widowed mother at the +edge of a forest. The snow piled itself in +drifts, and the wind howled through the +trees, and crept in at the windows; for the +cottage was old, and a blind hurricane might +almost have mistaken it for a heap of brushwood. +But Thule was quite as happy as if +the hut had been a palace. He loved the +winter-beauty of his mother’s face, and the +silvery hair half hidden under her black +cap. All the fire they burned was made +of the dry sticks he gathered in the forest, +and more than half the money they used +was earned by his small hands.</p> + +<p>In one of the ice-months of the year, when +the weather was sharper than a serpent’s +tooth, Thule came home from a hard day’s +work; and, the chillier he grew, the more he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +whistled to keep up a brave heart. Looking +at the horizon before him, he saw the cold +glare which we call Northern Lights, but +which he knew to be the flickering of helmets +and shields and spears.</p> + +<p>“The warlike maidens are out to-night,” +thought the boy: “they are going to the battle-fields +to decide who is worthy to be slain. +How I love to see the sky lighted up with +the flash of their armor! Odin, grant I may +one day be a hero, and walk over the bridge +of a rainbow!”</p> + +<p>Then Thule went to his whistling again; +but, just as he struck into the forest where +the deep shadows lay, he heard a faint moan, +which sounded like a human voice, or might +have been a sudden gust of wind in a hollow +tree.</p> + +<p>“Perchance it is some poor creature even +colder than I,” thought the boy: “I hope not +a <em>troll</em>!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +Hurrying to the spot whence the sound +came, he found an ugly, long-nosed dwarf lying +on the ground, nearly perishing with +cold. It was growing late, and the boy himself +was benumbed; but he went briskly to +work, chafing the hands and face of the +stranger, even taking off his own blue jacket +to wrap it about the dwarf’s neck.</p> + +<p>“Poor old soul, you shall not die of cold!” +said he; then, helping him to rise, he added +cheerily, “We will go to my mother’s cottage, +and have a warm supper of oat-cakes +and herrings; and our fire of dry boughs will +do you good.”</p> + +<p>The noble boy knew there was barely supper +enough for two, but did not mind going +hungry to bed for charity’s sake. In the ear +of his heart, he heard the words of his +mother:—</p> + +<p>“Never fear starving, my son, but freely +share your last loaf with the needy.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +They walked through the forest, the old +man leaning heavily on the youth’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Why should you befriend a poor wretch +who cannot repay you?” whined the dwarf +in a hollow voice which startled Thule, it was +so like the echo sent back by a mountain or a +rock.</p> + +<p>“I do not ask or wish to be repaid,” was +the reply. “Don’t you know what the proverb +says? ‘Do good, and throw it into the +sea; if the fishes don’t know it, <em>Odin</em> will!’”</p> + +<p>“Yes: Odin shall know it, never fear,” answered +the dwarf; “but, as I happen to be +informed that your tea-table is not quite large +enough for three, I think I will decline your +invitation to supper. Really, my lad,” he +continued, “it would delight me to do you a +little favor; for, though I am only a poor +dwarf, I know how to be grateful. By the +way, have you seen such a thing hereabouts +as a green alder-tree?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +“A green alder-tree in winter-time!” cried +Thule.</p> + +<p>“A curious thing, indeed,” said the dwarf; +“but I chanced to see one the other night in +my rambles. Ah! look, here it is right before +your eyes.”</p> + +<p>All the other forest-trees were dry and +hard, their hearts frozen within them; but +this tree was alive, hidden behind a clump of +firs. When Thule began to dig about its +roots, it seemed to come out of the ground +of its own free will, and to lie over his shoulders +as if it would caress him.</p> + +<p>“Take home the little tree, and plant it before +your door, my lad.”</p> + +<p>The youth turned to thank the stranger; +but he had vanished. Then Thule ran home +with all speed to tell his mother of the little +old man who had faded from his sight like a +wreath of smoke.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +“Now I wonder what it is you have seen,” +said the good woman, raising her hands in +surprise. “Was he brown, my son, with a +long nose?”</p> + +<p>“As brown as a nut, mother, with no end +of nose.”</p> + +<p>“Just as I supposed, my child! That +dwarf is a wonderful creature,—one of the +night-elves, a race gifted with great understanding. +Know, my son, that he carves +runes upon stones; and he no doubt assisted +in making Thor’s hammer, that terrible instrument +which can crush the skull of a +giant.”</p> + +<p>“One thing I observed,” said the boy: “he +blinked at that flashing in the sky, which people +call Northern Lights; he had to shade his +eyes with his funny little hand.”</p> + +<p>“Did he, indeed? Poor Elf! Light is painful +to his race; and I have even heard that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +a stroke of sunshine is able to turn them into +stones. I am almost afraid of this little tree,” +added the good mother musingly. “You +know what we read in the holy Eddas: Both +the alder and the ash trees should be held sacred; +for Odin formed man from the ash, and +woman from the alder. Nevertheless, the +night-elf could not have meant to do you a +mischief. Let us plant the tree as he directed.”</p> + +<p>“What, in the frozen ground, under the +snow?”</p> + +<p>But it now, for the first time, appeared that +there was a spot of earth near the south +window, which must have been waiting for +the tree, since it was as soft and warm as if +the sun had been shining on it all the year. +Here they planted the alder; and Thule +brought water, and moistened the roots.</p> + +<p>Next morning the tree seemed to have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +grown a foot higher; and by daylight its +leaves showed a silver lining.</p> + +<p>“May Odin favor my pretty alder!” said +Thule; “nor let the frost pinch it, nor the +winds blacken its green buds!”</p> + +<p>Thule went into the woods again; and, as +he was whistling at his work, he happened to +look down, and there, on the ground, at his +feet, lay a purse, well lined with gold. He +counted the pieces: fifty, all bright and new.</p> + +<p>“I will go to the town,” thought the boy, +shaking his head and sighing (for the gold +was very tempting), “I will go to the town, +and ask who has lost a purse with fifty pieces +of precious gold. Ah, me! I wish I could +keep it! then we should swim in herrings +and oil; and who knows but, for once in my +life, I might even get a taste of venison?”</p> + +<p>But next moment he loosened his greedy +clutch at the purse. “No matter how bravely +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +it shines! it is not <em>my</em> gold; and it is too +heavy for me to carry. Stolen money is +worse than a mill-stone about one’s neck, so +my mother says.”</p> + +<p>“Keep the purse, little boy,” said a sweet +voice close by his elbow. He turned, and +saw a beautiful child, as radiant as a sunbeam, +and clad in garments of delicate and +transparent texture.</p> + +<p>“I will be your friend, little boy. That +purse was dropped by a lady who wears a fur +cloak and long veil. If she asks for her +treasure, I can say it fell into a hole in the +ground. Everybody believes me: never +fear!”</p> + +<p>“Poor misguided angel!” said the boy, +amazed by her wondrous beauty no less than +by her apparent want of truth. “You are, +indeed, a lovely little tempter; but I have a +dear mother at home, and I love her better +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +than a million pieces of gold. I must go to +the town, and seek out this lady you mention, +who wears a fur cloak and long veil.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, if you will be so stupid,” said the +shining child, “why, I will even go with you, +and show you the way.”</p> + +<p>So, gliding gracefully before the bewildered +youth, she led him out of the forest, into +the most crowded part of the city, up to +the door of a splendid mansion; but, when +Thule turned his head only an instant, she +was gone, and no trace of her was to be +seen: she seemed to have melted into sunshine.</p> + +<p>The lady of the house received the purse +with thanks, and would gladly have given +Thule a piece of the gold; but, much as the +boy longed for it, he put it aside, saying, +“No, madam: my mother assures me I must +be honest without the hope of reward. She +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +would not like me to take wages for not being +a thief!”</p> + +<p>The next morning the alder-tree had grown +another foot; and Thule and his mother +watched the growing leaves, and touched +them with reverent fingers. They were certainly +of a tender green, lined with shining +silver.</p> + +<p>“May Odin favor my pretty alder!” said +Thule; “nor let the frost pinch it, nor the +winds blacken its green buds!”</p> + +<p>Then Thule kissed his mother, and trudged +off to the forest as usual. But he seemed +doomed to adventures; for this time he was +met by three armed men, who were roaming +the country as if seeking something.</p> + +<p>“Prithee, little urchin,” said one of the +men, “can you tell us what has become of a +young alder-tree, whose green leaves are +lined with silver?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +“I dug up an alder-bush, kind sirs,” replied +the boy, trembling, and remembering +that his mother had said she was almost +afraid of that little tree.</p> + +<p>“There are many alder-bushes,” said another +of the men gruffly; “but only one is +green at this time of year, and has silver-lined +leaves. It was placed here by command +of the giant Loki, and no one was to +touch it under pain of death; for, when his +mountain-garden should be laid out in the +spring, the tree was to be uprooted, and +planted therein.”</p> + +<p>Thule grew almost as stiff and white as if +a frost-giant had suddenly breathed on him. +He knew that Loki was a pitiless god, feared +by all, and beloved by none,—a god who +had an especial grudge against the whole human +race.</p> + +<p>“I will hold my peace,” thought Thule. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +“I will never confess that the tree I carried +away has silver-lined leaves. I will hasten +home, pluck up the bush, and burn it: then +who will be the wiser?”</p> + +<p>But Thule, in spite of his trembling, could +not forget his good mother’s counsel:—</p> + +<p>“Your words, my boy, let them be truth, +and nothing but truth, though a sword should +be swinging over your head.”</p> + +<p>Then, as soon as his voice returned to him, +he confessed that the tree he had removed +was really just such an one as the men described, +and begged for mercy, because, as +he said, he had committed the sin ignorantly, +not knowing the mandate of the terrible +giant.</p> + +<p>But the men bade Thule lead them to his +mother’s house, and point out his stolen treasure; +declaring that they could show no mercy; +for, when Loki had made a decree, no +man should alter it by one jot or one tittle.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +“Oh!” thought the unfortunate boy, wringing +his hands, and trembling till the woollen +tassel on his cap danced a gallopade, “oh, if +the cruel night-elf, who led me into this mischief, +would only come forward now, and help +me out of it! But, alas, it is of no avail to +invoke him; for it is now broad daylight, +and the sun would strike him into a stone image +in a twinkling.”</p> + +<p>When Thule, followed by the messengers +of Loki, had reached the door of his cottage, +he found his gray-haired mother sprinkling +the roots of the beautiful alder, and fondling +its leaves with innocent pleasure. At sight +of the armed men, she started back in affright.</p> + +<p>“It is indeed the giant’s tree,” said the +men to Thule. “Pluck it up, and follow us +with it to Loki’s castle on the mountain.”</p> + +<p>“To Loki’s castle!” shrieked the wretched +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +mother. “Then he must pass a frightful wilderness, +be assailed by the frost-giants; and, +if there be any breath left in him, Loki will +dash it out at a glance! Have mercy on a +poor old mother, O good soldiers!”</p> + +<p>The unhappy boy touched the tree, and it +came out of the ground of its own free will; +and, in a trice, stood on its feet, shook out its +branches into arms, and in another moment +was no longer a tree, but a child, with a +beauty as dazzling as sunshine.</p> + +<p>“Unfortunate men!” said she, in a voice +whose angriest tones were sweeter than the +music of an Æolian harp, “unfortunate are +you in being the servants of Loki! Go, tell +your cruel master that the schemes he has +plotted against me and mine have all failed: +my enchantment is over forever. Yonder +boy,” said she, pointing to little Thule, “has +saved me. I was, and still remain, an elf of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +light, as playful and harmless as sunshine. +The merciless Loki, enraged at the love I +bear the children of men, changed me to a +little alder-tree, which is the emblem of girlhood. +But he had no power to keep me in +that form forever. He was obliged to make +a condition, and he made the hardest one that +his artful mind could invent: ‘Since you love +mortals so dearly,’ said he, ‘no one but a mortal +shall free you from your imprisonment. +You shall remain a tree till a good child shall +touch you,—a child who is generous enough +to <small>SHARE HIS LAST LOAF WITH A STRANGER</small>, +honest enough to <small>GIVE BACK A REWARD FOR +HIS HONESTY</small>, brave enough to <small>SPEAK THE +TRUTH WHEN A LIE WOULD HAVE SAVED HIS +LIFE</small>. Long shall you wait for such a deliverer!’</p> + +<p>“Now how amazed will Loki be when +he learns that this little boy has been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +tempted in all these particulars, yet proves +true. My poor soldiers, you may return +whence you came, for the alder-tree will +never rustle its silver leaves in the mountain-garden +of Loki.”</p> + +<p>Then the men disappeared, not sorry that +the good boy had escaped his threatened +doom.</p> + +<p>Thule, looking at the beautiful elf so lately +a tree, could hardly trust his own eyes; and +I fancy that many a boy, even at the present +day, would have felt rather bewildered under +the circumstances.</p> + +<p>“Shining child!” said he: “you look vastly +like the wonderful little being who led me +out of the forest yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“That may well be,” replied the elf of +light; “for she is my sister. The brown +dwarf who pointed out to you the alder-tree +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +is also an excellent friend of mine, though, +strange to say, I have never seen him. We +love to aid each other in all possible ways; +yet we can never meet, for there is a fatality +in my eyes which would strike him dead. +He had heard of Thule, the little woodcutter +who was called so brave and generous and +true. He tried you, you see; and so did my +frolicsome sister, who was fairly ablaze with +delight when she found you could not be +tempted to steal!”</p> + +<p>Thule’s mother had stood all the while on +the threshold, overawed and dumb. Now +she came forward, and said,—</p> + +<p>“I am prouder to-day than I should be if +my son had slain ten men on the battle-field!”</p> + +<p>The beautiful elf of light, penetrated with +gratitude and admiration, remained Thule’s +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +fast friend as long as he lived. She gave +the lad and his mother an excellent home, +and made them happy all the days of their +lives.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE PRINCESS HILDA.</h2> + + +<p>Princess Hildegarde sat at an open window, +looking out upon her garden of flowers. +She was very beautiful, with a face as fair +and sweet as a rose. Not far off sat, watching +her, her young cousin Zora, with a frown on +her brow.</p> + +<p>There was bitter hatred in Zora’s heart because +Hildegarde was rich and she was poor; +because Hildegarde would, in time, be a +queen, and she one of her subjects. Moreover, +Hildegarde was so beautiful and good +that the fame of her loveliness had spread far +and wide; and it was for her beauty that +Zora hated her more than for any thing else.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +In childhood Zora had been very fair; and +the courtiers had petted her, and pronounced +her even fairer than the princess; but her +beauty had never meant any thing but bright +eyes and cherry cheeks: so it could not last. +If she had only cherished pure thoughts and +kind wishes, she might still have been as +lovely as Hilda; but who does not know that +evil feelings write themselves on the face?</p> + +<p>Jealousy had pulled her mouth down at +the corners; deceit had given it a foolish +smirk; spite had plowed an ugly frown in +her brow; while she had tried so many arts +to make her rich brown skin as delicately +white as Hilda’s, that it was changed to the +tint of chrome yellow.</p> + +<p>It was said in those days, that Zora was in +the power of wicked fairies, who twisted her +features into the shape that pleased them +best.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +At any rate, how the amiable Princess +Hilda was to blame for all these deformities +it would be hard to say; and she little +dreamed of the malice in her cousin’s heart.</p> + +<p>But, while Hilda was looking out of the +window, a noble knight passed that way; and +so delighted was he with the rare sweetness +of her face, that he forgot himself, and +paused a moment to gaze at her. The princess +blushed, and let fall the silken curtain; +but Zora had seen the knight, and knew he +was the royal Prince Reginald. She ground +her teeth in rage; for she had determined +that the prince should never see her beautiful +cousin.</p> + +<p>“They shall not meet,” said she to herself: +“no, not if there are bad fairies enough to +prevent it.”</p> + +<p>But, when the princess looked up, Zora +was smiling very sweetly. Who could have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +dreamed that she was thinking of nothing +but how to ruin the peace of her gentle +cousin?</p> + +<p>Zora could hardly wait for nightfall, so +eager was she to do her wicked work. When +it was dark, and all was quiet, she stole out +of the castle, wearing a black mantle which +hid her face.</p> + +<p>“Now,” thought she, “no one can recognize +me, and I will seek the fairy Gerula.”</p> + +<p>You must know that Gerula was one of +the most wicked and hideous sprites that +ever existed. She dwelt in a cave far from +the abodes of men. It was hidden by huge +trees through which the wind never ceased +howling. At evening owls hooted overhead, +and many creeping things wound their +length along the ground. The more toads +and snakes she could see about her, the better +was she pleased; for fairies, as well as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +mortals, are attracted by what is akin to +themselves.</p> + +<p>She was descended from a race called kobolds +or goblins; and she loved all the metals +which lie under the earth as well as the living +things which crawl up out of its bosom.</p> + +<p>So acute were her ears, that she heard +Zora’s steps from a great distance. She +brushed back her elf-locks, and gave a low +grunt like some wild beast. It pleased her +that the Lady Zora should find need of her +counsel; but, when Zora had reached the +cave, the cunning fairy pretended to be sleeping, +and started up in seeming surprise.</p> + +<p>“What brings a body here at this time of +night?” said she.</p> + +<p>“I am Lady Zora. I have come, sweet +fairy, to beg a favor. The Princess Hilda is +hateful to me: work one of your charms on +her, and let me see her face no more.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +The old fairy pricked up her ears and said +to herself, “Ha! ha! I will have nice sport +out o’ this!” then said aloud, “Say, what +harm has the princess done to my rosebud, +my lily, my pride?”</p> + +<p>Zora’s eyes flashed. “Prince Reginald has +seen her; and to see her is to love her. My +heart is set on wedding Prince Reginald. +Take her out of his way!”</p> + +<p>Just then a broad gleam of moonlight fell +on the treacherous maiden. It was strange +how much she looked like the cruel fairy; +and Gerula gazed on her with delight.</p> + +<p>“My beautiful viper!” said she, using the +sweetest pet-name she could think of, “I will +do your bidding. But first say what you will +give me if I put Hildegarde out of your +way.”</p> + +<p>Then she chuckled, and rubbed her hands +in great glee. Zora started back in alarm.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +“I did not know you sold your charms for +gold; but I would give you half my fortune +if need be, any thing, to be rid of Hilda.”</p> + +<p>The fairy chuckled again. “Just the damsel +for me,” thought she.</p> + +<p>“I will give you a diamond necklace,” said +Zora: “it is worth a small kingdom, and was +given me by my cousin Hilda. You can +surely ask no more?”</p> + +<p>“Diamonds!” said the goblin, snapping +her fingers. “What think you I care for +them? Do I not tire of stooping to pick +them up? for they are given me by my +cousins, the gnomes, any day. No diamonds +for me! Keep them and your gold. I ask +but one thing, my dear.”</p> + +<p>Here she spoke in low hissing tones, more +terrible than her loudest croakings.</p> + +<p>“Promise me, if you do not marry Prince +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +Reginald, you will let me change you into a +charming green snake.”</p> + +<p>“Alas!” cried Zora, turning pale, “who +ever heard of such a cruel request?”</p> + +<p>“Cruel, am I?” said the goblin in delight. +“Oh, I must seem cruel to one who is so +gentle and lovely as Hilda!”</p> + +<p>“Alas,” cried Zora, “I may fail to win +Prince Reginald.”</p> + +<p>“All the better,” chuckled the fairy. +“When you become a snake, you and I shall +enjoy each other’s society, I assure you.”</p> + +<p>Zora shuddered.</p> + +<p>“But it’s all one to me,” added the goblin, +beginning to yawn. “On the whole, I think +you may as well go home.”</p> + +<p>Zora wrung her hands, and groaned.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said the gnome: “go back to the +castle. Ugh! I would sooner trust one of +my winking owls to do a daring deed than +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +you! Fie upon you! Creep back to your +bed, and let Hilda marry the prince: a +lovely pair they will make. Off with you, +for I have to make up my sleep I have +lost.”</p> + +<p>But Zora was thinking.</p> + +<p>“I am silly indeed!” she said to herself. +“Why do I fear that I shall not win the love +of Prince Reginald? Only Hilda stands in +my way.” Then she said aloud,—</p> + +<p>“Lovely being! sweetest of all the race! +Great as is my horror, I will consent to your +will.”</p> + +<p>Just then was heard a crackling in the dry +leaves.</p> + +<p>“Only a snake,” said the goblin. Zora +trembled.</p> + +<p>“Will you promise me that Hilda will +never trouble me again?”</p> + +<p>“I promise,” said the goblin, with one of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +her merriest laughs, as loud and hoarse as +the song of a frog.</p> + +<p>Just then a sigh was heard not far from the +place where Zora stood. “There is some +one here: we are watched,” she whispered. +But Gerula thought it the howling of the +wind; for she was busily musing over the +charm she was about to obtain of her cousins, +the gnomes, and her eyes and ears were not +as sharp as usual.</p> + +<p>She took from the ground her crooked staff.</p> + +<p>“Hush,” said she; “if the sky were to fall +on your head, you are not to speak; for now +begins the charm.”</p> + +<p>Then she drew a circle three times on the +ground, with her staff, and said in low tones,—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Hither, ye cousins, that come at my call:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The princess is young and fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mix me a charm that shall bring her to woe<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Spin me your vilest snare.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +A mist arose, in which Zora could see dim +figures, one after another. Zora held her +breath. Gerula muttered again in low +tones,—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Hilda is gentle, and dreams of no guile;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The little gnomes sit and weep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">‘Make her,—if <em>must</em> be,—a snowy wee lamb,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the fold with her father’s sheep.’”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Zora clapped her hands in delight. But +just then, a faint sound was heard, as of some +one talking between the teeth. Then Zora +spoke, and the charm was broken. She did +not intend to speak; but asked, “What noise +was that?” before she thought.</p> + +<p>“You have broken the charm,” said the +fairy. “The soft-hearted gnomes are unwilling +to punish Hilda; but I hoped, by my +craft, I could force them to keep her a lamb +forever; or, at most, to let her grow to a +sheep, and die by the knife.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +“I will now weave a new charm; but I +fear me they will repent; and Hilda will +not be got out of the way, after all. Not +a word more, I warn you.”</p> + +<p>So saying, the goblin made another circle +three times, on the ground, and again muttered,—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“How long is fair Hilda a snowy wee lamb?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The little gnomes cry, ‘We fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till comes a brave lion so tender and true,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">She lives by his side a year.’”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Zora clapped her hands again. “That is +well,” said she, “for never was a lion seen +who could let a little helpless lamb pass his +way without tearing it in pieces.”</p> + +<p>“True,” said the gnome, well pleased, “it +has worked well. Hilda will never trouble +you again: so creep home softly, and go to +your rest: dream of bats and creeping +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +snakes; and to-morrow, at sunrise, ask your +cousin to walk with you in the park. Now +adieu!”</p> + +<p>“Adieu, sweetest and best of fairies!” said +Zora, drawing her silken mantle closely about +her face. As she left the hideous cave, +snakes hissed after her, and a bat flew in her +face; but she had sold herself to evil, and +walked on without fear of the creatures she +so strongly resembled.</p> + +<p>Next morning, at the first peep of the sun, +she cried, “Awake, dearest Hilda, joy of my +life, and walk with me in the park. I have +lost my diamond necklace; and last night I +dreamed it was lying in the grass.”</p> + +<p>So Princess Hildegarde opened her eyes, +and hastened to follow her cousin; for her +heart was quickly moved to any act of kindness.</p> + +<p>“What a fine flock of sheep!” cried Hilda, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +as they were walking in the park. “Such +innocent”——</p> + +<p>She would have said more, but the words +on her tongue were suddenly changed to tender +bleatings; and even as Zora stood looking +at her, she crouched down on all fours, +dwindled in size, was enveloped in white +fleece, and became a dumb lamb.</p> + +<p>Overwhelmed with horror and surprise, +she raised her pleading, tearful eyes to the +face of her cousin. But Zora gave a mocking +laugh, and said, pointing her finger at +her,—</p> + +<p>“Who now is the heir of the throne? Will +they set the royal crown on a sheep’s head, +think you? Bravo, sweet creature! You +may stand now between me and Prince Reginald +as much as you please. It’s all my +work. I tell you once for all, I hate you, Hildegarde.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +Was this Zora’s return for her cousin’s +love? The princess would fain have expressed +her grief and amazement.</p> + +<p>“Pray don’t try to talk, my bonny wee +thing! It is not one of your gifts, at present. +Your voice has ceased to be musical. +I can sing now as well as you. Go to nibbling +grass, deary, and a long life to you!”</p> + +<p>Then the treacherous Zora turned on her +heel, and left her poor cousin to her mute +despair.</p> + +<p>A search was made far and wide for the +missing princess. Forests were hunted, +rivers were dragged; but without avail. +Deep gloom fell on the people, and the queen +nearly died of sorrow. They all believed +Hilda dead, all but Zora, who knew too well +her cruel fate.</p> + +<p>Then Zora was treated like the king’s +daughter. Wherever she went, there were +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +servants to follow her; yet none loved her, and +behind her back they made wry faces, and +said she looked like one who was tormented +by evil fairies.</p> + +<p>But, alas for Zora, nothing more was seen +of Prince Reginald. She watched the windows +day after day, hoping to see him ride +by on his coal-black steed; but he never +came. Then she grew crosser than ever, and +the frown on her brow ploughed deeper still. +She dreamed every night of horrible goblins +and slender green snakes.</p> + +<p>All the while, poor Hildegarde roamed +about the park. The other lambs were content +to nip the sweet grass, and frisk in the +sun; but the princess remembered something +better, for her soul did not sleep.</p> + +<p>The king himself, in his walks, was struck +with the beauty of the lamb; its fleece was +far softer, finer, and whiter than was common. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +He said to his chief shepherd, “Watch well +yonder snow-white lamb, and give it particular +care.”</p> + +<p>For there was something in its soft dark +eyes, as they were raised to his face, which +stirred the king’s heart, though he knew not +why.</p> + +<p>One day the city was thrown into a great +tumult. A lion had been seen in the thicket +which bordered the park. The huntsmen, +hearing of it, stole out privately to waylay +him in a snare. He was caught alive by the +king’s favorite huntsman. It was agreed +that such a fine lion had never been seen before; +and the king ordered a strong iron +cage for the beast, and made his favorite +huntsman his keeper.</p> + +<p>Now the cage was in the midst of the +park; and such was the terror of the sheep +and deer, that none of them went near it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +“I will go,” thought poor Hildegarde; “let +the lion tear me in pieces. Sooner would I +perish, than live on, a poor wee lamb all my +days.”</p> + +<p>So she went up to the cage, though with a +faint heart; but the lion put his paw out of +the bars, and stroked her face, as if he would +bid her welcome. The keeper reported the +fact with great surprise.</p> + +<p>It may be that the beautiful brown eyes of +the lamb tamed the fierce spirit of the lion; +for they were human eyes, full of Hildegarde’s +own soul. Be that as it may, the +lamb went every day to the cage, till the lion +learned to watch for her, and gave a low +growl of joy when he saw her coming. At +last the keeper ventured to drop her carefully +into the cage. The lion was beside +himself with joy; and, after that, the lamb +was placed in the cage every morning, and +only taken out at night.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +Then the king invited all the noblemen into +his park, to see the strange sight of a lion +and a lamb living together in peace. And all +the while Hildegarde loved her shaggy companion, +and asked herself every day how it +could be that a lion should have such speaking +eyes and such a tender heart. But she +almost believed that he was a human being, +shut up, like herself, in a cruel disguise.</p> + +<p>At last, when a whole year had gone by, +the time came for Hilda to be disenchanted; +for the good little gnomes had declared that +if she could live for a twelvemonth in peace +with a lion, the charm would then be at an +end.</p> + +<p>Hilda did not know this; but awoke at +sunrise, and, going to drink, saw the image +of her old self in the fountain; and faint +voices repeated in chorus these lines:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +<span class="i0">“Thrice welcome, sweet Hilda! the little gnomes say<br /></span> +<span class="i1">At sunrise their charms shall end;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So go to the lion, and open the cage;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The prince is your own true friend.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>This was so sudden and unexpected that +the happy Hilda could hardly believe her +senses. She gazed at her jewelled fingers; +she touched her velvet robe. “It is Hildegarde,” +said she dreamily; “where has she +stayed so long?”</p> + +<p>She went to the cage; and, finding the key +hanging on the outside, would fain have freed +the poor lion, but thought of the terror it +would cause the sheep and deer, and dared +not do it.</p> + +<p>She put her soft white arms within the +bars, saying,—</p> + +<p>“You have been a true friend to the little +white lamb. She has found her tongue again, +and can say so. Kind old lion, gentle prisoner, +Hildegarde will not forget you.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +The noble beast looked at the disenchanted +princess, and the next instant was changed +to his true form; and, in place of a tawny +lion, it was the brave Prince Reginald. +Hilda blushed with joyful surprise, and +would have taken down the key to unlock the +cage, but the prince said,—</p> + +<p>“Loveliest Hildegarde, will you be my +bride? Speak before you unlock the cage; +for, if you say nay, Reginald must again become +a dumb beast, and, as he has been for a +year, so will he be for the rest of his days.”</p> + +<p>Hildegarde cast down her eyes, and answered, +“If so be the lion and the lamb +could live side by side for a year, may not +Reginald and Hilda dwell together in +peace?”</p> + +<p>“Then,” said the joyful Prince Reginald, +“I pray thee unlock the cage.”</p> + +<p>Now, as they walked together in the park, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +the prince told Hildegarde that he had loved +her for a twelvemonth and a day.</p> + +<p>He described Zora’s visit to the cruel goblin. +He said that he himself had overheard +the two talking together, had ground his +teeth, and sighed. Then the gnomes, seeing +his grief, had come asking him if he would be +changed for a year, and maybe for life, into a +lion; and for Hildegarde’s sake he had gladly +consented.</p> + +<p>Hearing all these things, the grateful princess +wept, and said,—</p> + +<p>“Now I know that Prince Reginald is my +own true friend.”</p> + +<p>The prince led Hilda to the palace, and +presented her to the king and queen. Great +was the wonder, and loud the rejoicing +throughout the land.</p> + +<p>The treacherous Zora was seen no more, +but was changed into a slender green snake; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +and the king said she deserved her fate; +“for, mark you,” cried he, “there is no crime +worse than to play false to those whom we +pretend to love.”</p> + +<p>But Prince Reginald and Hildegarde were +married, and lived in peace all the rest of +their lives.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<h2>GOLDILOCKS.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“A king lived long ago,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the morning of the world,”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>who had two children, Despard and Goldilocks. +They were twin brother and sister, +but no more alike than a queen-lily and a +nightshade, a raven and a dove.</p> + +<p>Goldilocks was a bright young damsel, +with hair like fine threads of gold, and a face +so radiant that people questioned if the blood +in her veins might not be liquid sunshine. +Her eyes were as soft as violets; and her +laugh was like the music of a spring robin.</p> + +<p>Despard, on the other hand, was as melancholy +as an owl. His raven hair cast gloomy +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +shadows, and his mournful eyes pierced you +with a sudden sorrow. He was too low-spirited +to chase butterflies, weave daisy-chains, +and dance with Goldilocks among the +flowers. He liked better to play at a mimic +funeral, and deck himself as chief mourner, +in a friar’s robe with sable plumes. He +could never understand why laughing Goldilocks +should object to making believe die, +and be buried in the large jewel-coffer, which +stood for a tomb.</p> + +<p>He always said that, if he lived to be a +man, he should grow all the more wretched, +and creep over the earth like a great black +cloud. When Despard spoke so hopelessly, +Goldilocks paused in her song or her play, +and stealthily brushed a rare tear from her +eye. She was afraid her brother’s words +might prove true.</p> + +<p>These children lived in what is called the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +Golden Age, when the rivers flowed with +milk and wine, and yellow honey dripped +from oak-trees. Their childhood would probably +have lasted forever; but the Silver Age +came on, and every thing was changed. +Then, it was sometimes too warm, and sometimes +too cold. People began to live in +caves, and weave houses of twigs. The +king, their father, died, and went, so it +was said, to the “Isles of the Blessed.”</p> + +<p>The children were shipwrecked upon a foreign +shore, all because of a sudden swell +of the ocean. Here they were desolate and +homesick. The strange people among whom +they had fallen did not know they were the +children of a king. No one was left to care +for them but their old nurse, named Sibyl.</p> + +<p>This aged woman was growing lame, and +her hair was gray; yet she loved the twins, +and would spin all the day long, to buy black +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +bread for them, and now and then a little +choice fruit.</p> + +<p>“Alas,” she sighed, “alas, for the Golden +Age, when the forests had never been +robbed, when oxen were not called to draw +the plough, and the beautiful earth laughed, +and tossed up fruit and flowers without waiting +to be asked!”</p> + +<p>The frocks that Sibyl made for Goldilocks +were coarse; but on fair spring days she +took from the chest a delicate, rosy robe, embroidered +with gold, and smiled to see how it +adorned the child.</p> + +<p>But as for Despard, she had no hope that +he would ever look well in any thing. She +would part Goldilocks’ wonderful hair, and +say,—</p> + +<p>“Old Sibyl knows who is her love; she +knows who would be glad to give her pomegranates +and grapes, when she is too old to +spin, and too weak to sit up.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +Little Goldilocks would laughingly reply,—</p> + +<p>“And I know, too: when I am a woman I +shall weave a net of my hair, and fish up all +the gold that has sunk to the beds of the rivers. +Then I know who will have a set of +hard gold teeth, and a silver rocking-chair.”</p> + +<p>“Thou art lovely enough to be a goddess, +little Goldilocks. And what wilt thou do +with the rest of the gold?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Despard shall have all he can carry; +for Despard is good, let people say what they +may. And I will have a crown made for him, +with diamonds set in it as plenty as plums in +a pudding.”</p> + +<p>“Listen, my children,” said the old Sibyl, +sadly: “there will be no one to give me +grapes and pomegranates when I am faint +and weak. I can read by the stars that you +are soon to go on a pilgrimage, and leave +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +your old nurse behind. You may well weep, +my good little boy: there is to be no rest for +your feet till you have travelled over the +whole world, from north to south.”</p> + +<p>Despard groaned aloud; but Goldilocks +clapped her hands and laughed. “Oh, let us +start to-night,” she cried.</p> + +<p>“When the sun-god has made twelve journeys +in his winged boat,” sighed Sibyl, “and +when the young moon has arisen out of the +ocean, then you may go.”</p> + +<p>And, at the appointed time, the faithful +nurse, with many tears, prepared her foster-children +for their long journey. She took +from a worm-eaten coffer some family heirlooms, +which had been lying since the days +of the Golden Age, enveloped in rose-leaves +and gold paper.</p> + +<p>She placed in the hand of Despard a dagger +with a jewelled hilt, a quiver of poisoned +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +arrows, and a glittering sword, with a blade +sharper than a serpent’s tooth.</p> + +<p>But to Goldilocks she gave a flask of +smooth, fragrant oil, a vase of crystal-bright +water, and a fan made of the feathers of the +beautiful bird of Paradise.</p> + +<p>Kissing the little pilgrims, she said,—</p> + +<p>“These gifts have been saved for you +these many years: use them as an inward +voice shall whisper you: I give you my blessing. +The gods attend you! Farewell.”</p> + +<p>The children at first walked on sorrowfully; +but soon the gay spirits of Goldilocks +rebounded, and she waltzed hither and thither, +like a morsel of thistle-down.</p> + +<p>“See, brother,” said she, “we almost fly! +What a glorious thing it is to go on a pilgrimage! +I am glad the beautiful Silver +Age has come, and Jupiter has given us +leave to take a peep at the world!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +“All very well for you to say,” moaned +Despard; “you flit about as if you had +wings on your feet; while, as for me, it is +true I move with equal speed, but so painfully +that I wonder my footprints are not +stained with blood.”</p> + +<p>Soon the children observed, not far off, +a party of youths rowing on the bosom of a +lake. They sat in a rocking, unsteady little +bark, but were in gay spirits, blowing bubbles, +watching idle clouds, and throwing up +empty shouts to be caught up and echoed by +the hills.</p> + +<p>“I wish we had not seen these happy people,” +sighed Despard; “for, if you can believe +me, sister, I really feel as if I must pelt +them with my arrows.”</p> + +<p>So saying, little Despard began to fire his +poisonous darts at random.</p> + +<p>“Why, brother,” cried Goldilocks, in alarm, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +“are you possessed by the furies? Take +care how you aim, or you will surely do mischief.”</p> + +<p>Even as she spoke, several of the gay +youths dropped to the bottom of the boat, apparently +wounded. Their companions pushed +for the shore; and Goldilocks almost flew, to +pour into the red wounds her brother had +made the smooth healing oil from her flask.</p> + +<p>“Poor dears,” said she, pitying their pain, +“I have done my best; and, see! these ugly +gashes are almost healed. I cannot promise +you, though, that they will not leave scars.”</p> + +<p>The youths thanked the sweet girl, and assured +her it was almost a pleasure to be +wounded, if one might be nursed by such +gentle hands as hers. But as for Despard, it +was hardly strange that they should look +upon the poor boy as a wicked little highwayman; +or, at best, a saucy, careless fellow.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +Some of the older youths, however, patted +him on the shoulder, and said, “For your +sweet sister’s sake we can even endure +your pranks.”</p> + +<p>“Do not despise me,” said the boy, sadly; +“for as I am moved, so must I do. Not for +the whole world would I fire a poisonous +arrow, if the mighty Jove did not compel +me.”</p> + +<p>As they walked on, Despard, against his +will, flung into the air a quantity of winged +torments, which he found stowed away in his +wallet, such as gnats, wasps, and flies.</p> + +<p>“There, now,” said sweet Goldilocks, +ready to weep, “why could you not look before +you, and see those pretty children playing +yonder in that fragrant meadow?”</p> + +<p>“I saw them,” said Despard; “but what +good did that do?”</p> + +<p>“O brother, I wish the Golden Age would +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +come again, and then you would cease scattering +mischief and trouble.”</p> + +<p>The little ones, suddenly stopped in their +play by the army of insects, ran hither and +thither over the meadow, screaming with +pain. But Goldilocks appeared in the midst +of them, with her shining hair, violet eyes, +and laugh like the music of a spring robin.</p> + +<p>“Come to me,” said she; “let me kiss +away the stings.”</p> + +<p>In a very short space the children were +soothed, and had forgotten their trouble. +Then they threw their little arms about Goldilocks’ +neck, and begged her to stay and play +with them.</p> + +<p>“Sweet children, it is my mission,—so the +stars say,—to travel all over this world, +from north to south. But, for all that, I will +frolic with you till the sun sets.”</p> + +<p>“Will the sad boy come too?” asked the +children.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +Goldilocks shook her bright curls. “He +is planting a garden,” said she; “no need to +ask him; he hears nothing while he is at +play, and his games are as solemn as midnight.”</p> + +<p>The children made believe that the beautiful +Goldilocks, in her rose-colored dress, with +her beaming hair and flying feet, was a great +butterfly, which they were trying to catch. +Now here, now there, the glowing butterfly +flitted from flower to flower, leading her followers +a merry chase. Every child thought +to seize and hold her, for a kiss. She +laughed; and the breezes danced with her +hair, like—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Zephyr with Aurora playing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he met her once a-Maying.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>But before any one had kissed or even +touched her, she had disappeared, leaving +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +the children gazing into the air, and seeking +their late companion with tearful eyes.</p> + +<p>Goldilocks had only gone back to Despard, +who was still planting flower-seeds.</p> + +<p>“What a miserable game,” said Goldilocks; +“it is worse than playing funeral! +Who thought you could make flowers grow? +Our old nurse said it was only Demeter, the +goddess, who could do that. Here, now, you +have called up a bristling crop of thistles +and brambles? On my word, Despard, it is a +pity!”</p> + +<p>“Well, well, Goldilocks, see what you can +make of them. I am doomed to work, +though I don’t wish it; and my work is +always disagreeable, though I can’t tell +why!”</p> + +<p>Goldilocks knelt, and blew on the prickly +plants with her sweet breath. By the nodding +of the next breeze, they were changed +to roses, violets, and hare-bells.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +“It is pleasant to see any thing smile, +even a flower,” said Goldilocks, laughing as +she spoke.</p> + +<p>“I think,” replied Despard, “that this is a +strange pilgrimage. I believe our very +thoughts are alive. I wish I could stop +thinking.”</p> + +<p>By and by they came to a rude house,—as +fine a one, though, as people in the Silver +Age had yet learned how to build. Despard +paused, and knocked gently. “Why linger +here?” whispered his sister.</p> + +<p>“I know not,” sighed the boy, “but so +must I do.”</p> + +<p>“How now, little ones? you startled me +so!” cried a woman, opening the door by the +width of a crack.</p> + +<p>“Let us come in,” said Despard, sorrowfully; +“we are two little wanderers; and our +hairs are wet with night-dews.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +“Come in, then, little ones, and welcome; +but never, at any one’s door, knock so loud +again,” added the woman, pressing her hand +against her heart.</p> + +<p>“I only tapped with the ends of my fingers,” +said the boy.</p> + +<p>“Ah,” said the woman, “it was louder to +me than thunder.” Then, after she had set +before them a supper of bread and milk, she +rocked her baby, and sang to it a sweet cradle-song +about mother Juno and high Olympus.</p> + +<p>The children lay down on beds of rushes; +and Goldilocks, soothed by the lullaby, fell +asleep; but soon awoke, and saw her brother +leaning, on tiptoe, over the osier basket. +The baby’s face looked, in the moonlight, +white and pinched; and its sick hands were +pressed together like two withered rose-leaves.</p> + +<p>“Let me kiss him,” whispered Goldilocks +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +smiling. But bitter tears rolled down Despard’s +cheeks. Drawing his little sword +from its sheath, he pricked the baby’s heart +till one red drop, the life-drop, stained the +steel. The sick baby ceased to breathe.</p> + +<p>“O Despard, what have you done?” cried +Goldilocks, seizing his arm.</p> + +<p>“I know not,” said the boy; “but as my +heart moves me, so must I do.”</p> + +<p>Hearing voices, the mother awoke, and, as +her habit was, turned at once to the cradle. +The baby lay there beautiful and still; the +pinched look gone, and its furrowed brow +smoothed into a baby’s smile. The mother +wept bitterly.</p> + +<p>“Ah, little stranger,” said she, turning to +Despard, “I knew you when I let you in. +Why did I open the door for you?”</p> + +<p>“Poor mother,” said the boy sorrowfully, +“if you had not opened the door, I must have +come in by the window.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +But Goldilocks threw her soft arms about +the woman’s neck, and comforted her till it +was morning, and the “gilded car of day” +had risen from the ocean. The tears on her +cheeks she dried with her fan, made of magical +feathers.</p> + +<p>When the children set out again on their +journey, the woman gave Goldilocks a loving +kiss, and then embraced Despard, saying,—</p> + +<p>“For the sake of your sweet sister, I love +even you.”</p> + +<p>“Poor little brother,” said Goldilocks when +they had gone farther on their journey, “you +are as good as I; but how is it? you make +people weep, while I must go with you to +dry the tears you call forth.”</p> + +<p>“I am a black cloud,” groaned Despard, +“you a sunbeam.”</p> + +<p>“But I like to have a cloud to shine on,” +said loving little Goldilocks.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +Footsore and weary, the little pilgrims +travelled on; and, when they had gone from +north to south, and back again, the Sibyl met +them with tender kisses; and, when they +were refreshed, bade them go forth again.</p> + +<p>“For,” said she, “this world is always +new, my dears. The people who are born to-day +were not here yesterday; and every +mortal must see the faces of my foster-children.”</p> + +<p>It was now the Brazen Age, and Despard +and Goldilocks had grown to be a youth and +maiden; but still they travelled on. The +Iron Age came; and Despard’s raven hair +was frosted; but Goldilocks’ curls never +faded. Let her live as long as live she may, +she can never grow old.</p> + +<p>Their pilgrimage is not over yet; nor will +it be while the earth revolves about the sun. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +The brother and sister come to every house; +they knock at every door.</p> + +<p>To all the children who open their eyes +upon the light, come Despard and Goldilocks, +the bitter and the sweet of life, the twin angels +of Happiness and Sorrow.</p> + +<p class="center padtop padbase">THE END.</p> + + + +<div class="bbox"> +<p><b>Transcriber's Note</b></p> + +<p>Archaic and variable spelling is preserved as printed. Punctuation errors +have been repaired. Hyphenation has been made consistent. Typographic errors +(omitted letters) have been repaired.</p> + +<p>On page <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, seen has been amended to then—"One sees, now and then, +stupid human beings, ..."</p> + +<p>On page <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, a reference to Hilda has been amended to Zora—"He described +Zora’s visit to the cruel goblin."</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Fairy Book, by Sophie May + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FAIRY BOOK *** + +***** This file should be named 27321-h.htm or 27321-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/3/2/27321/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Sam W. and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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