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WHISPERS from FAIRYLAND
LONDON : PRINTED BY

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THE LOST PRINCE

 
WHISPERS FROM
FAIRYLAND

BY THE RT. HON.
E. H. KNATCHBULL-HUGESSEN, M.P.

AUTHOR OF ‘STORIES FOR MY CHILDREN’ ‘MOONSHINE’ * QUEER FOLK’ ETC

 

THE LOST PRINCE

LONDON
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CoO.
1874

All rights reserved
TO THE

MOTHERS OF ENGLAND.

—+-—

DsAR LADIES,

So many of you have spoken kind words to me of
my books for children, that I venture to dedicate to you that
which I have just finished.

It is difficult to please all readers. The child just
out of the nursery, the young lady ‘in the schoolroom,’ the
school-boy, and the ‘grown-up children’ who do me the honour
to read my books, cannot all be exactly suited in every story.
Sometimes I am too ‘old,’ sometimes too ‘young’ for my readers.
But to your kindly judgment I readily and humbly submit my
present volume. I hope and believe ‘that, whatever may be its
defects, there is nothing in it which can do harm or teach evil
lessons to the child-world, which I love so well. Were it other-
wise, I should not be bold enough to dedicate it to that body
of English women whom, above all others, I respect and admire ;
because it is to them and to their guidance of the home-life of
their children that England has owed her greatness in time past
and will continue to owe the same in that future for and in
which those children have to work.

I am yours most respectfully,

E. H. KNATCHBULL-HUGESSEN,
PREFACE.

——4-——

I HOPE no one will blame me for the title which
I have ventured to choose for my new book of
Fairy Tales. There is no particular reason why
such tales should not be spoken out in a loud voice,
but there is something more mysterious and Fairy-
like in a ‘whisper,’ and therefore I have chosen the
word, There would be something inappropriate in
‘Bawls from Fairy-land,’ ‘Shrieks’ or ‘ Yells’ would
be wholly out of the question, there is a sulky
sound about ‘ Mutterings,’ and ‘Howls’ would be
extremely objectionable. So, upon the whole, I
prefer ‘ Whispers ;’ and, indeed, the title is all the
more appropriate, because it is in this tone of voice
that the little elves generally impart information to

those whom they honour with their confidence.
vill PREFAGE.

 

Through the rustling leaves in the soft summer
evenings; in the hay-fields after the hay-makers
have gone home, and the old white owl flits slowly
along in her search after the field mice, who are
no longer shielded from her sight by the long grass ;
early in the mornings before the world of man is
astir, and whilst the world of nature is still quiet
and fresh—at such times the Fairy-whispers come
to me ever and again; gentle, pleasant whispers
they are, and they tell such strange things, that I
cannot keep them to myself. So I cast them forth
for my child-friends to read and interpret for them-
selves, and if they cannot understand them all,
only let them tell me so, and I will ask for a full

explanation the very next time I go to Fairyland.
Ti:

Il.

IV.

V.

VI.

VII.

CONTENTS.

THE Lost PRINCE.

Tur HIsToRY OF A ROOK
THE SILVER FAIRIgsS . .
THE WITCHES’ ISLAND.
HARRY’S DREAM

THE RED BARON

THE Two ETONIANS
ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE

THe Lost PRINCE. : . . ; . loyace ‘1

THE GIANT PATTLE-PERRY . : . . se.55 4t
THE SILVER FAIRIES. . : 7 : : » 122
MOLLY AND THE DEVIL-FISII : » 173
Tue WircHes’ IsLaND .  . . eC » 221
Harrv’s DREAM. : : : s . » 274
THE RED BARON : ; : . 7 : 9. 287

TuE Two Eronians . . 7 : : ” 339
Whispers from Fatryland.

sd Pate

I.
THE LOST PRINCE.

THERE was once a King who ruled over a people
faithful to his dynasty, and contented with his govern-
ment. His country was prosperous, his arms success-
ful, his power great, and the splendour of his court
unrivalled. Nor was this all; his Queen was a lady
of surpassing beauty and amiable disposition ; his
domestic happiness was complete, and he was blessed
with a son and two daughters, who were all that their
parents could desire. Fortune seemed to have smiled
upon that happy family, and nothing was wanting to
render their existence one of unalloyed bliss. At the
birth of each child good fairies had attended with
presents and good wishes, and everything promised a
long and joyful career to the children of those royal
parents.

It was not until the youthful Prince had attained
the age of ten years that the shadow of misfor-
tune first fell upon the King’s house, and dark-
ened an existence which had hitherto been one of
unmitigated joy and tranquillity. The little Prince

B
2 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [1.

 

 

had been christened Mirabel, but from his lively and
cheerful disposition had been usually called by the
short and tender designation of Prince Merry. He.
had dark hair and grey eyes, his form was graceful
and agile, his limbs well shaped, and his features de-
cidedly handsome.

According to the custom of that country, his dress
was richly ornamented with diamonds and precious
stones, and he wore a girdle which was thickly set
with jewels. One of these having become detached
the boy, somehow or other, contrived one day 'to inflict
a severe scratch upon his thigh, and although the
wound speedily healed, the scar remained, and caused
a certain disfigurement which his mother and nurses
greatly regretted. One of the toes of his left foot
moreover, was somewhat curiously shaped, for all the
world as if it had been cut in half, or rather as if a
piece had been cut out of the middle, for it was a
perfect toe, only very much shorter than the ordinary
run of toes; and besides this, he had upon one of his
arms a strange blue mark not commonly observable
upon a child’s limb. All these, however, were but
trifling defects, and in no way interfered with the
young Prince’s comfort.

He was about ten, as I have already remarked,
when something more serious befell him than a mere
personal blemish. Having been sent out one fine
summer’s afternoon with his favourite nursery-maid,
the latter took him for a ramble in the large forest
which joined up to the palace gardens. Somehow or
other one of the soldiers of the King’s guard happened
to be off duty, and walking in the same direction.
1] THE LOST PRINCE. 3

 

As this soldier chanced, by the merest accident, to be
a particular friend of the nursery-maid, nothing was
more natural than that they should stop and converse
together. In fact, they sat down upon a bench under
one of the big forest trees, and chatted away so much
to their mutual satisfaction that the moments slipped
by without either of them taking any account of time.
Suddenly, however, the loud sound of the palace dress-
ing bell fell upon their ears, and they became aware
of the fact that they had greatly outstayed the limit
of time allowed for the young Prince’s walk. Up they
started in some consternation, which was enormously
increased when they found that Prince Merry was no
- longer with them. The nursery-maid called him in
vain, then the soldier raised his louder voice, but with
a similar result, and they both commenced a hurried
and eager search in every direction. But their search
was fruitless. The young Prince had disappeared.

In vain they made the forest re-echo with his
name ; there was no answer, and a silence reigned
around which struck deep terror into their trembling
hearts. They stayed as long as they dared, and at
last returned to the palace in a dreadful state of alarm.
The nursery-maid rushed frantically to the nurse, told
her tale with incoherent vehemence, and went into a
violent fit of hysterics, from which she was only re-
covered by a liberal application of cold water.

It was some time before anyone dared to inform
the King of the loss of the son to whom he was
so devotedly attached. His Majesty was playing
billiards with the Lord Chamberlain, and as the latter

took very good care to be beaten, was in high good
B2
4 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [

humour, and quite prepared to forgive the Queen,
who had gone out driving, for being, as she certainly
would be, late for dinner.

But those who knew the monarch’s fondness for
his child, trembled with apprehension at the thought
of breaking to him the melancholy news. It could
not, however, be long concealed, and the disappear-
ance of the young Prince was announced by the Here-
ditary Grand Pig-feeder, a nobleman of high descent,
whose especial duty about the court was to super-
intend the supply of hams, bacon, and pickled pork,
of which large quantities were daily consumed in the
royal household. Entering the billiard room, he ap-
proached his sovereign with lowly obeisance, and
kneeling upon one knee, presented to him a silver
trough in which was deposited a note signed by three
of the ministers, narrating the circumstance of the
nursery-maid’s arrival, and report of the catas-
trophe.

Scarcely had the King read the missive through
when his countenance turned deadly white, and then
immediately flushed red with rage, as he flung his cue
at the Lord Chamberlain, and the silver trough at the
head of the Hereditary Grand Pig-feeder; then he
used violent words (which I shall not repeat, in case
any Kings should read this story, and be scandal-
ised at hearing what strong language some of their
royal race occasionally use, when their temper gets
the better of them) and bounced about the room
and the palace like a madman. Presently he gave
orders that the nursery-maid should be sent to
him, and after hearing all that she had to say, de-
1.] THE LOST PRINCE. 5

 

clared that she should be instantly condemned to be
eaten alive by white mice, and the soldier put into a
bag full of hedgehogs and rolled down the side of
the steepest precipice in that part of the world.

The unhappy maid wept bitterly and implored
mercy in piteous terms ; but it is doubtful whether she
would have obtained it, had not the King’s favourite
jester (who generally turned out to be the wisest
man at court) reminded the angry monarch that the
nature of white mice was not such as to render it
probable that they would do their part in carrying out
the sentence, and that hedgehogs being exceedingly
rare in that country, there would most likely bea great
and undesirable delay in the execution of the soldier.

After a little while, the King seemed to become
somewhat appeased, and turned his attention to the
consideration of the best means of recovering his
lost child. He ordered the forest to be thoroughly
well searched, and sent servants and messengers far
and wide along every road and pathway in the vicinity
of the palace. While he was engaged in giving these
commands, the Queen came in from her drive, and on
being informed of the misfortune which had befallen
her, gave vent to several shrill screams, and then
fainted away. Some time was occupied in bringing
Her Majesty back to consciousness, and when this
had been effected, her state was truly pitiable to
behold. She wept bitterly, let down her back hair,
tore her best pocket-handkerchief, trampled her new
bonnet underfoot, and scratched the faces of her
Mistress of the Robes and the three principal Ladies
in Waiting, to their great and visible consternation.
6 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [1.

In short, she behaved in every respect as if she had
been a mad woman, and upon the King’s attempting
to pacify her, she so far forgot her wifely duties as to
box his royal ears, and with another wild shout of
‘My child, my child!’ relapsed into her fainting fit;
from which the King thought it was by no means
desirable that she should speedily revive, if the same
scenes were to be re-enacted on her recovery. So
they carried the poor Queen up to her bed-room, and
left her quiet there until she came to once more, and
appeared somewhat less agitated. Then the King
paid her a visit, and, the first frenzy of grief being
‘over, the royal pair wept in each other’s arms over the
disaster which they both had to endure.

The servants, messengers, and soldiers who had
been sent to scour the country all returned without
any tidings of the missing Prince. The wells were all
examined, the ponds all emptied, the rivers dragged,
but nothing could be found nor any trace of Prince
Merry discovered by the searchers. For three days
and three nights the search was continued in every
direction, and at the end of that time the King and
Queen no longer ventured to hope that their beloved
son would be restored to them.

But what, in the name of all that was mysterious,
could possibly have become of him? The wild beasts
in that country were few and far between, and if any
savage animal had seized the boy, his cries would
surely have attracted the attention of the maid and
soldier, and even if this had not been the case, some
marks of his seizure, such as blood, torn raiment, and
signs of struggling would surely have been left behind.
1] THE LOST PRINCE. 7

Robbers were almost unknown in the kingdom, which
possessed an organised police, with staffs, helmets and
all complete, and was consequently very little troubled
with marauders of any description. It was very
unlikely that the Prince had run away of his own
accord: such an idea was at once negatived by the
consideration of his tender age, his lively and affection-
ate disposition, and the entire want of probable motive
on his part for any such a proceeding.

All, therefore, was enveloped in mystery, and the
more his ‘parents thought over the affair the more
completely puzzled did they become. The soldier
and the nursery-maid were closely cross-questioned
as to the affair, and both persistently adhered to
the same story. The Prince, they said, had been
playing about near them when they first sat down,
and had never asked them to walk on, or expressed
the slightest annoyance at their remaining where they
were. They owned, with sincere penitence, that they
had been grossly careless in not keeping watch over
the precious child, and the soldier readily admitted that
he had no business to have been in the forest at all. But
they both vowed and declared that they would have
given their lives for Prince Merry, and were utterly and
completely surprised and -horrified at his disappear-
ance, of which they could give no account whatever.

The King, when he thought quietly and soberly
over such matters, was not inclined to be severe upon
offenders generally, and retracted the sentence which,
in the first moments of his wrath, he had passed upon
these two individuals. As, however, it was impossible
to overlook the matter altogether, he directed that a
8 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [1.

large and strong cage should be made, of sufficient size
tocontain them both, and inthishe ordered the unhappy
pair to be confined, telling them that, as they were so
fond of each other’s society, they should enjoy it at
all events for some time to come, and should be kept
in their cage until Prince Merry should be found
again. After this, the King summoned his ministers,
and took counsel with them as to the best course to
be adopted in order to discover, if possible, what had
become of the heir to the throne. Many different
opinions were given, some of which had the appear-
ance of wisdom about them, whilst others were absurd
and beneath contempt. All, however, were agreed
that advertisements should be inserted in all the
newspapers of that and the adjoining kingdoms, and
large rewards offered for the restoration of the lost
Prince.

The task of drawing up the advertisement fell to
the Newsmonger General, a high officer of state whose
duty it was to watch over all the publications of the
day, and exercise a general supervision over the news-
paper press, which was never allowed to write nonsense
or to say anything abusive about anybody. This
great functionary found no difficulty in drawing up
an advertisement to the following effect :

Lost, stolen, or strayed,

As in Forest he played,

Prince Mirabel, often called ‘ Merry.’
He was perfectly made,

His parents obeyed,

And was gentle and tractable, very :
A lively lad, too,

On his arm a mark blue,
1] THE LOST PRINCE. 9

And a diamond-set girdle around him,

Gold pieces not few

Shall be given to you

Who bring the Prince here, when you’ve found him !

This advertisement was forthwith inserted in all
the newspapers, and every means was taken to give
publicity to the astounding circumstances of the
case. Not content with the newspapers, huge adver-
tisements were stuck up at all the principal railway
stations, on the sides of all blank walls (especially
those upon which ‘Stick no bills‘ had been prominently
affixed by the owners) and in every situation where
people were accustomed to congregate. All this,
however, produced not the slightest effect. No tidings
‘whatever were heard of the young Prince, and no
answers were given to the advertisements, except such
as turned out on enquiry to have been sent by rogues
and swindlers who wanted to make a good thing of
it, and were in several instances detected and hung
for their pains.

The worst of it was, in the opinion of the Royal
family, that in spite of the misfortune which had be-
fallen their illustrious house,everything went on just the
same in the rest of the kingdom. No general blight fell
upon everybody and everything, but the people per-
severed in prospering most provokingly, the harvests
were just as good, trade and commerce flourished
equally well, men bought and sold, married and
reared families, and in every respect conducted their
business and passed their lives just as comfortably as
if the young Prince had never been lost at all. That
common people should be happy when Royalty
10 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [I.

 

suffered was something totally opposed to those first
principles which taught the monarchs and great
people of those days that upon them and their hap-
piness the whole world hinged and depended, and
there might well have been Kings who would have
resented such an unnatural condition of things, and
have turned their wrath upon those who dared thus to
thrive during their sorrow. But, being a philosopher,
this worthy Prince only saw in the circumstances of
his country another proof of the heartlessness and infe-
riority of the common herd, who had not indeed the
graceto suffer with their ruler, but were on that account
rather to be pitied and despised than punished.
With great magnanimity, therefore, he endured the
prosperity of his people, and visited upon them the
callous indifference to his sorrow which they showed
in this practical manner, in no other way than by the
imposition of a few more taxes, in order to defray the
expenses consequent upon the continued inquiries
after the lost Prince.

Things went on in this manner for some time;
year after year slipped away, no more children were
born to the Royal couple, and it seemed as if the
kingdom would pass, after their decease, into the pos-
session of their two daughters, of whom it is now high
time to make mention.

Malvina and Pettina were two beautiful Princesses,
though their style was somewhat different. Malvina
was a queenly creature; tall, but not too tall, with
raven hair, finely-cut features, and dark eyes that
flashed brightly as lightning on asummer’seve. Her
temper was perhaps just a little imperious, but then
1.] THE LOST PRINCE. Il

she seemed born to command, and there was no
reason to doubt the goodness of her heart. Her
younger sister, however, was entirely different. She
was one of those creatures whom you could not better
describe than as a little fairy. Somewhat below the
average height of women, her figure was the most
graceful you can imagine, her limbs exquisitely
moulded, her light tresses had a special beauty of
their own, and if her features were not regularly
handsome, there was an expression of happiness and
heart-cheerfulness in them which made her face lovely
to look upon, and her whole being seemed to sparkle
like the morning light of a summer day. Pettina was
as much loved as Malvina was admired ; and the King
and Queen might well be, as indeed they were, proud
of their charming daughters, though even in the
pleasure thus afforded them they could never forget
the lost hope of their ancient house.

At the time of which I write the two Princesses
had reached the respective ages of eighteen and
seventeen, and were daily growing more beautiful and
accomplished. As may well be believed, no pains
had been spared upon their education. They played
excellently well upon several musical instruments,
their singing was something quite out of the common
way, they spoke modern languages with a facility and
fluency which was really wonderful, and in their
knowledge of history, geography, and other branches
of education their proficiency was far above the
average.

It is not surprising that under these circumstances
the suitors for the hands of the two Princesses should
12 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [I.

have been neither few nor far between. Perhaps the
number may have been increased by the knowledge
of the great probability that the whole kingdom would
eventually come to one or both of the sisters, but, be
this as it may, there was certainly no lack of eligible
persons who desired to form a matrimonial alliance
with one or other of the pair.

The powerful King of the Islands, where was the
finest and most numerous breed of white horses ever
known, had long regarded Malvina with loving eyes ;
the Prince of the River Country, whose immense in-
come was entirely derived from the swans which he
preserved by thousands, had cast tender looks upon
Pettina; whilst the mighty Giant Pattle-perry, who
lived in the Coal Country, had been heard to declare
that either of the damsels was more precious than
coal, which was saying a great deal and plainly
showed his appreciation of their worth. The King
and Queen, however, had no desire to part with their
children, and no wish for any marriage save one of
affection. The girls themselves were very happy at
home, and for some time all the rumours of offers to
be made by the various potentates I have mentioned
never came to anything more than vague reports.

Nine years had elapsed since the disappearance of
Prince Merry, and his parents had at last abandoned
all hopes of his recovery, and bowed in sorrowful sub-
mission to the terrible affliction which had befallen
them. Whilst the King devoted himself with in-
creased energy to public affairs, and gave all his spare
moments to literature ; the Queen, finding her house-
hold occupations insufficient for her amusement,
1} THE LOST PRINCE. 13

betook herself to the healthy and pleasant pursuit of
gardening. As it might well be in the case of a
palace belonging to so great a monarch, the gardens
attached to the royal residence were very spacious,
and no expense was spared to bring them to the
greatest perfection. Numerous gardeners were em-
ployed, some whose special duty it was to look after
the acres of glass under which the choicest fruit was
reared for the royal table, others who devoted their
attention exclusively to flowers, a third body to whom
vegetables were the sole care, and a staff of labourers.
whose whole occupation consisted in keeping the lawns
well mown and smooth, in sweeping dead leaves from
the paths, and in raking and keeping in proper order
the miles of gravel walks for which the royal gardens
were so famous.

In these gardens and the adjoining shrubberies
the Queen passed a great part of her time, sometimes
alone, and not unfrequently accompanied by one or
other of her daughters. One very lovely evening Her
Majesty had strolled to the further extremity of the
garden, and taken her seat upon a rustic bench which
she had long ago caused to be placed under an ancient
oak close to the forest. She was quite alone ; and as she
sat listening to the many soothing sounds which filled
the air, her melancholy became quite irrepressible,
and the tears ran fast down her cheeks as she thought
of her past happiness and present sorrow. The voice
of Nature seemed to speak of peace and joy and love.
The tender woodpigeon gently coo’d her ‘ good-night’
to her faithful mate, the clear and melodious note of
the nightingale fell with pleasant cadence upon the
14 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [..

listener’s ears, the bees were humming their drowsy
farewell to the sun, the robin chanted hisevening hymn,
the timid bats had begun to flutter out to meet the ap-
proaching twilight, and the busy life of day was just
giving place to the quiet sleep of night. Touched to the
heart by the influence of the hour, the Royal lady
continued to weep softly for some moments, and then,
clasping her hands together with fervour, she exclaimed
aloud—

‘Everything seems happy and peaceful—I alone
am wretched—I alone have no joy in life, for the love
of my heart was for my boy, and he has been taken
from me. Oh! will he never, never, come back?
Shall I never see him again ?’

As she spoke, the Queen threw a supplicating
glance heavenwards, and would probably have con-
tinued to say more in the same strain, had not her
last question been suddenly answered in a most
unexpected manner.

‘Why not?’ exclaimed a voice in a short, sharp
tone, which of itself, coming from an invisible speaker,
would have been startling enough, but, considering the
particular time and place at which it was heard, was
alarming in a remarkable degree.

The Queen started violently, and looked right,
left, and behind the tree, without seeing anything at
all. Then it struck her to look straight in front of
her by way of a change, and immediately that she did
so she perceived the person from whom the voice had
proceeded. It was a man so small that you might
fairly have called him a dwarf without being accused
of misrepresentation. He could not have been four
1 THE LOST PRINCE. 15

 

feet high, or anything near it, and although he held
himself as upright as possible, nobody could have
complimented him upon his height, except those who,
for reasons of their own, prefer short men to tall.
Upon his head he had a small close-fitting velvet cap,
his coat was ofa bright green with enormous brown
buttons, upon which were carved the figures of various
woodland animals ; similar buttons also adorned his
buff waistcoat, whilst his lower members were incased
in thick cord breeches, with leather gaiters overtopping
highly polished boots. In his hand he held a spud
nearly as tall as himself, and this he swung to and fro
as he sat upon the large root of a tree in the midst of
some ornamental rockwork exactly opposite the bench
upon which Her Majesty was sitting.

As soon as this strange individual perceived that
the Queen had seen him and fixed her eyes upon him
with great surprise, he calmly nodded at her, and
again repeated the words, ‘Why not?’ after which
he apparently waited for an answer to his question.

This, however, it was scarcely possible for the
Queen to give: the only reason ‘why’ she feared she
would never see her son again was that he was most
likely dead or carried to some remote region of
the earth, or else he would surely have been heard of
before nine years had expired since his first dis-
appearance. But to the good mother’s heart hope
was immediately conveyed by the words of the little
man, and not only could she give no reason why she
should not see her son again, but the probability of
her doing so instantly suggested itself to her mind,
and a thrill of joy darted at once to her very soul.
16 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND, i.

She sprang from her seat hastily, and throwing
herself upon her knees in front of the little gentleman,
clasped her hands again, and exclaimed in a tone of
piteous entreaty—

‘Oh sir, caw you tell me anything of my lost
one—yours are the first words of comfort I have
heard for many a long day: give me, oh give me my
boy, and I will bless you for ever !’

‘Do you like your turkeys roast or boiled?’
calmly enquired the individual thus addressed, which
question appeared so ill-timed and extraordinary to the
Queen that she was utterly confused for the moment.
‘Because, continued the speaker, ‘there are two
opinions upon that point, as upon everything else.
Roast turkey is excellent when hot, but the bird is so
much better cold when it has been boiled, that I can
never quite agree with those who say that “a turkey
boiled is a turkey spoiled.” ’

By this time the Queen had somewhat recovered
her equanimity, and again earnestly accosted the
dwarf, for so indeed he might be called.

‘ Sir, sir,’ she cried, ‘I beseech you trifle not with
a mother’s feelings. If you know anything of my lost
darling, tell me ; by all you hold dear, I adjure you to
tell me at once.’

‘There are three things,’ gravely replied the little
man, ‘ which through life, you will do well to avoid.
Never fly into a passion—never sit: long with wet
feet, and do not takea hedgehog in your hands without
gloves.’

At this disrespectful and trying reply to her
entreaty, the Queen began to wax wroth, and rising
| THE LOST PRINCE. 17

 

hastily to her feet, she exclaimed in an indignant
tone, ‘Sir, I know not who or what you are, but no
one with the feelings of a gentleman would treat a
lady thus, and no one who was worthy of the name of
man would thus deal with an unhappy mother,’ and
so saying, she burst into tears again.

“Suet pudding,’ calmly observed the Dwarf, ‘is
improved by treacle; game should always be dressed
with its own gravy ; and you will do well to have the
chill taken off your claret before drinking it’

The Queen now became more angry than ever.
“What do you mean?’ she cried in louder tones.
‘What right have you to come and talk nonsense here
in such a heartless manner? What is your name, and
wherefore do you come without leave or licence into
these gardens ?’

As Her Majesty spoke, she took a step forward
towards the rockwork, as if determined to bring the
intruder to account forthwith. But the Dwarf now
rose from his seat, and bowed to the Royal lady with
the utmost gravity. ‘Madam,’ he said, in a voice
which was quite deferential in its tone, ‘I am really
grieved to have been the cause of so much excite-
ment; I might almost say irritation, in your Majesty.
My name is Rindelgrover ; my abode is in the forest ;
my profession that of a dwarf and philosopher ; and
my intentions are of the very best description.’

‘But, sir,’ rejoined the Queen, scarcely mollified
by the statement to which she had just listened, ‘if
this be so, why pretend to have news of my beloved
son, and then answer my earnest inquiries with irre-
levant and impertinent remarks ?’

Cc
18 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [.

The little man shrugged his shoulders. ‘Boys
will be boys,’ said he, ‘and dwarfs will be dwarfs, to
the end of their days, and it is not of the slightest
use'to expect them to be anything else. It isnot our
habit to answer questions directly they are asked, if we
doso at all. A few wise sayings or remarks, thrown in
in an interjaculatory manner, tend to compose the
mind and clear the way for a better reply than one
might give upon the spur of the moment. Since,
however, you object to my method of proceeding, I
will annoy you no more. In fact, all I came here to
say was that I wish to be your friend. The charms
of your two daughters have quite vanquished me.
Pettina is a duck and Malvina is a darling. To
restore to them a brother and to you a son seems to
me to be something which would entitle me to the
gratitude of you all. Mow am I talking nonsense?’

‘Oh, sir!’ tearfully exclaimed the Queen: ‘If
you are not deceiving me with false hopes, you will
indeed prove yourself to be my best of friends. But
say, oh say, what I am to do to get back my lost
darling ?’

‘Bread-and-butter with fresh water-cresses makes
a wholesome and delicious meal,’ replied the Dwarf,
and then with a violent effort breaking himself off from
his accustomed mode of answering questions, thus
continued : ‘I beg your pardon, madam, for this short
digression ; I will endeavour to help you by every
means in my power, and if I don’t succeed in doing
so, call me Macklethorpe, instead of Rindelgrover.’

‘J have no intention of calling you anything so
ridiculous, returned the Queen ; ‘nor indeed do I wish
es] THE LOST PRINCE. 19

 

to call you anything at all, if you will only cause the
realisation of the hopes to which you have given birth.’

“I see,’ replied the little man, ‘that I must explain
myself. Macklethorpe is the Dwarf of the Meadows
—a poor, dandelion-crowned fool, with whom I am
not on terms, for reasons which JI need not now ex-
plain. Z£ am the Dwarf of the Forest, and a vastly
superior being, as you may suppose from what you
see. I would tell you all I know about your son
with pleasure, if I were not bound by an oath of
fearful import not to do so. But if you want to
know, and to recover your lost boy, there is only one
thing to be done. Let your two daughters eat an
acorn apiece from off the tree under which you have
been sitting for three nights, just before they let down
their back hair on going to bed. On the next morn-
ing they will understand the language of the forest
creatures. Then let them walk boldly into the forest
without any attendants, and you will see what you
will see!’

With these words the Dwarf made another low
bow to the Queen, and then walking up to the gate
which opened into the forest, passed through it, and
disappeared in the most natural manner possible.

The Queen remained plunged in deep ‘thought.
What did it all mean? Could she trust to this
little gentleman, who called himself ‘Rindelgrover’?
Would it be safe for her daughters to go alone into the
forest ? She pondered over the matter for some little
time in great doubt as to what it would be best to do;
and at last resolved that she would go and consult

the King, for in those days wives were not above
c2
20 WHAISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [.

 

consulting their husbands, and husbands their wives,
even upon matters of the greatest importance.

She found His Majesty in the library, where he
was deeply engaged in writing an essay upon
‘ Poverty, its causes and remedies,’ which he was quite
justified in doing, as he probably knew less upon the
subject than any other man in his kingdom, which,
as lookers-on see the best of the game, was perhaps
the best qualification for giving an opinion upon it.

The King readily left his employment when in-
formed of the Queen’s errand, and only regretted
that he had not been with her during the interesting
interview which had just taken place. He was not
long in deciding that his daughters had far better do
as the Dwarf had directed. He could not believe, he
said, that so great a misfortune would be permitted
to fall upon a crowned head as that he should lose
all his children, and he felt the greatest hope that
some good might be in store for their house from the
visit of the Dwarf.

The Queen entirely agreed in this view of the
case ; and upon the matter being stated to the persons
principally concerned, the two Princesses vied with
each other in the readiness with which they declared
that they would run far greater risks than those
entailed by a walk in the forest if they could only
be the means of recovering their dear brother, and
restoring peace and happiness to their beloved parents.
The King, however, being an eminently just man, and
unwilling to take advantage of the first ebullition of
sisterly affection, desired the young ladies to go to
bed and think over the matter before finally deciding,
1] THE LOST. PRINCE. 21

 

since it must be of their own free will that they
encountered the dangers which might possibly be
before them. Like dutiful children they quickly
obeyed, especially as it was getting very late,and was
already beyond their usual bed-time.

Next morning, however, found them exactly in
the same frame of mind, determined to face anything
for the sake of the object in view. Accordingly, in
the course of the day, six acorns were carefully
gathered from the old oak, and the sisters, not
without sundry wry faces, each ate one before going
to bed. This process they repeated upon the second
and third days, and the following morning prepared
to fulfil their appointed task.

As no particular time had been fixed by the
worthy Rindelgrover for their excursion, the Queen
kept her daughters with her until after luncheon, when,
having been duly fortified by cutlets, sweetbreads, and
light claret, the Princesses sallied forth, walked down
the garden, one on each side of their mother, and
having reached the great oak under which the latter
had been sitting upon the occasion of the eventful
visit of the Dwarf, bade the Queen a tender farewell,
and boldly entered the forest.

The afternoon was warm, but the luxuriant
foliage of the large trees kept off the sun, and
rendered the walk rather pleasant than otherwise to
the Princesses. They walked for some distance
without any adventure whatever. All was silent ;
the birds seemed disinclined to sing—the animals
were doubtless couching in the fern and shady places
—there was scarcely a breath of air stirring, and
22 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [I

 

everything was as quiet as can be imagined. After
a time, the two sisters began to get tired of walking
on, constantly expecting something to happen which
never did happen, and thought that, under the cir-
cumstances, they might as well sit down.

A little stream ran through the forest, and upon
its banks they were standing when they came to this
determination. It was a very little stream, such as
one could jump across without much difficulty ; but
its clear waters gurgled on, for all it was so little,
with a cheerful sound, now and then quite shallow, as
they passed over some bed of sand or gravel which
rose near to the surface of the stream, and anon quite
respectably deep, giving room for trout to lurk in
deep holes under the banks and for shoals of smaller
fish to dart about and disport themselves in the water.
Here the Princesses took their seats upon the bank,
and began to watch the stream and listen to its
pleasant rippling-sound.

They had not sat there long before a kingfisher
came darting by them like a flash of lightning, and
uttered a short sharp cry as for one instant he dis-
played his gaudy colours before their eyes, and then
sped away with a swiftness which it defied their gaze
to follow. The two sisters looked at each other with
surprise, for, by the miraculous power which they had
derived from their acorns, they heard with perfect
distinctness, and understood into the bargain, the
observation which the bird had made as he flew past
them. To ordinary mortals it would have seemed
but an unmeaning sound, but to them it was far
otherwise, and they knew that the kingfisher had said,
I.] THE LOST PRINCE. 23

 

‘Hurrah! now there’s a chance for the poor Prince!
Well done, Rindelgrover !’

The Princesses looked at each other, as I have
said, with surprise not unmixed with awe; and these
feelings were rather increased than diminished, when
almost immediately afterwards they heard two wood-
pigeons cooing to each other in conjugal and agreeable
manner, and comprehended with perfect ease the sum
and substance of their conversation.

‘These are good girls!’ said the one. ‘ Well done,
Rindelgrover !’

‘That they are indeed,’ returned the other bird.
‘ Loving sisters and dutiful daughters. They are sure
to succeed, and what is more, they will thoroughly
deserve to do so. Well done, Rindelgrover!’

At these words hope at once filled the hearts of
the Princesses ; but they had not time to exchange
ideas upon the subject before a robin struck up his
song in a neighbouring bush, and spoke to the follow-
ing effect :

‘How long has been the time since the poor little
Prince has been kept from his home and all who love
him! Not quite so, however, for we birds and wood-
land animals have ever loved him, and would have
set him free long ago if we could have done so. But
the power was not ours, and we could only wait and
hope. Still, now these two charming Princesses have
come, doubtless all will soon be well, and the Prince
will be restored to his own again. Well done, Rindel-
grover!’

‘Well!’ cried Malvina, now fairly astonished and
puzzled at what she had just heard, ‘ of all the strange
24 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. {1

 

things that ever have happened certainly this is the
strangest. The birds all seem to say the same thing,
but yet none of them seem to think it necessary to
tell us what to do in order to obtain the success which
they foretell for us.’

‘ Suppose we ask one of them ?’ suggested Pettina,
who was not without natural acuteness, and being
young and innocent, had an idea that the best way to
obtain information was to ask questions of those who
possessed it.

Malvina raised no objection to this view of the
case, and accordingly they both looked round, and
presently perceived a woodpecker crawling quietly up
a tree and preparing himself for a little tapping
amusement.

‘Mr. Woodpecker,’ said Malvina in a courteous and
reassuring tone,—‘ Mr. Woodpecker, could you, would
you tell us how we ought to proceed so that we may
get back our lost brother ?’

‘T don’t know everything,’ sharply returned the
bird thus addressed. ‘I know something about it,
but not enough; ask the squirrels? It’s a good job
you have come, though. Well done, Rindelgrover!’
and so saying, he resumed his tapping with much
enthusiasm.

At this moment Pettina observed a hare sitting
on the opposite bank of the stream, nibbling the
young grass and enjoying itself after the innocent
fashion of such animals. ‘Puss,’ cried the Princess
immediately, ‘please tell us how we can find our
brother, and what we ought to do next?’

The hare started at the voice, as if she had not
I.] THE LOST PRINCE. 25

 

previously observed the speaker. ‘Guns and dogs!’
she cried, ‘how you did startle me! I would willingly
tell you all I know, for you look so kind that I am
quite grieved that you should be in sorrow. But you
must know that I really can say no more about it, for
in this forest we leave all such matters entirely to the
squirrels, You had better ask them, I should think.
Well done, Rindelgrover!’ and having thus spoken,
the hare quietly returned to her occupation of grass-
nibbling, and took no further notice of the Princesses.

The latter now began to think that the squirrels
were evidently the people to be sought, and they
therefore determined to wander along the banks of
the stream in hopes of encountering some of these
little animals. Nor had they far to go before their
object was accomplished. Not many yards from the
spot where they had been seated, they perceived two
squirrels chasing each other round and round a tree,
climbing over its branches, jumping from place to
place, and having a regular good game of hunt-the-
squirrel, or hide and seek, or by whatever name the
squirrels call it when they are at home. The Princesses
approached as near as they thought they might ven-
ture to do without giving offence to the graceful little
animals, and then Malvina addressed them in the
following words:

‘Kind squirrels, would you be so very good as to
inform us where our dear brother, Prince Merry, is;
and what we are to do in order to get him back
again?’

As she spoke, the squirrels approached near to
each other, and sat sedately, about a foot apart, on a
26 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. . [.

 

tolerably low branch of a mighty oak which stood
near. When Malvina had ceased speaking, they looked
at her, then at Pettina, and then at each other, and
then began to sing the following extraordinary
words :—

I.

Two sisters went walking out into the wood ;
Out into the wood when the sun was high.
Their brother they wanted to find if they could,
And their mother stayed back with a tear in her eye!
For girls must seek when their brothers are lost,
And the longer time passes, the greater the cost,
And the furnace fires are roaring !

Il.

The Prince he was playing all under the trees,
All under the trees with his nice new ball,
He wandered away till at last by degrees
No more could he hear his poor nurse’s call.
So girls must seek when their brothers are lost,
And the longer time passes the greater the cost,
And the furnace fires are roaring !

IIt.

The Giant has seized the young Prince in his arms,
His struggles and cries they are all in vain,
In the Country of Coal there are wiles and charms,
And ne’er may Prince Merry come home again !
Yet if girls do seek when their brothers are lost,
Dear to the Giant his prize may cost,
And the furnace fires stop roaring !

Having concluded their song, the squirrels imme-
diately exclaimed as if with one voice, ‘Well done,
Rindelgrover!’ and began their game again as un-
concernedly as if nothing had happened out of the
common way.
LJ THE LOST PRINCE. BOF.

 

The sisters were full of wonder at the words of
the song which they had just heard. Their thoughts
were of course directly pointed to the Giant Pattle-
perry, who, as has been already mentioned, had ex-
pressed himself in terms which had led them to
believe that he might appear at Court as a suitor for
the hand of one or other of them. Was he, then, the
captor of their dear brother, and the cause of all the
sorrow which had so long overshadowed their family ?
Then the thought passed quickly through their brains
that their invitation to walk in the forest might be a
trick of this very Giant, who, according to the squirrels,
had there entrapped their brother. Still, if this were
the case, what had the Dwarf to do with it, and why
should all the animals conclude their observations
with a panegyric upon that small individual? The
whole affair was quite incomprehensible to the two
sisters ; and they both felt that it would never do to
leave the squirrels without further information upon a
subject so important to themselves and their family.
Therefore, without further delay they proceeded to
make another appeal to the little animals, who by
this time were merrily pursuing one another round
and round their favourite tree, at a considerable height
from the ground.

‘Dear little squirrels!’ cried Malvina. ‘You dar-
ling little pets!’ exclaimed Pettina, and having thus
attracted the attention of the small creatures, who
were probably unused to such endearing epithets, both
the young ladies continued, in one and ‘the same
instant : -

‘Do tell us what we ought to do! If you would
28 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [1.

but tell us! We quite trust you, but we really don’t
know what to do next.’

With these words they gazed upwards with such
a beseeching air that mortal squirrel could hardly have
resisted them. The squirrels, being but mortal, were
quite unable to do so; and both ran down the tree
again without a moment’s hesitation, and seating
themselves upon the same branch from which they
had previously addressed the sisters, began to sing as
follows :—

Follow the stream till you come to a mound

Where pigs and wild strawberries greatly abound :

Tis there you will find your best friend in the wood,
Who hates what is evil and follows the good.

Call him once ; call him twice ; by the name you have heard,
And add to that name just one magical word :

© Ri-too-ri-lal-lural’—remember it well !

For Dwarfs—aye, and Giants, must bow to the spell.
Now, plague us no more with your ‘ifs’ and your ‘buts,’
For squirrels hate trouble as much as bad nuts,

The one hurts the teeth, and the other the heart,

So list to our counsel, and haste to depart !

‘Well done, Rindelgrover!’—and with these words
the squirrels jumped up again, and recommenced their
gambols as if nobody was there and no business but
their own had to be thought of.

The sisters eagerly listened to every word which
had fallen from the little animals; and having now
received clear and definite instructions, resolved to
follow them without delay. Rising from their seats
upon the bank, they followed the course of the little
stream, earnestly looking out for the place which the
squirrels had indicated to them as the abode of their
I] THE LOST PRINCE. 29

 

“best friend in the wood,’ whom they naturally sup-
posed to be the Dwarf who had invited them thither.

For some time they saw nothing at all like the
place which had been described to them: the stream
wound its way through the forest like a sensible stream
would naturally do, running along through the prettiest
places, never going up hill, and winding to and fro as
if it was in no hurry to get out of the wood, but
wished to see as much of it as it could before it came
out again into the hot sun and open country. At
last, when they were nearly tired of walking along by
its side, listening to the casual remarks of various
birds and beasts, which all ended in the same lauda-
tory observation upon the mighty Rindelgrover, a
sudden turn of the stream brought before them a new
and unusual scene.

The ground sloped upward upon one side of the
rivulet, forming that which might fairly be called a
mound, which was perfectly covered with a bed of
wild strawberries. There was no mistake about it,
for the fruit was there in profusion, and so tempting
did it look that the sisters, being somewhat thirsty
after their walk, would have been inclined to make
closer acquaintance with the red berries at once, had
not there been other things to observe at the same
time. A number of pigs were feeding all round the
mound, grubbing away here and there, but none of
them venturing to touch the strawberries. They were
pigs of various sorts and sizes, dark and light, big and
little, but all seemed to be as happy and contented as
if hams, bacon, pickled pork, and pigs’ feet and ears
had never been thought of by hungry mortals. Still,
30 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. i.

 

as nothing was to be seen but pigs and strawberries,
the Princesses felt that they must take action accord-
ing to the advice of the squirrels, if they wished to
see that best of friends who was said to have his abode
in the place before them. Accordingly, they ap-
proached the mound and stood upon the edge of the
strawberry bed, the pigs taking no notice whatever of
them, and not appearing in the slightest degree dis-
turbed by their presence. Then Malvina raised her
voice and pronounced in a clear, firm tone the word
‘Rindelgrover!’ Pettina followed her sister’s -ex-
ample; and the words were scarcely out of their
mouths before a chorus of grunts arose around them,
every pig in the place loudly exclaiming in his native
tongue, ‘ Well done, Rindelgrover!’ Once more the
sisters spoke aloud the name of him whom they had
been taught to consider their best friend in the wood,
and then both speaking at once, and not without some
little difficulty, they pronounced the magic word of
words, ‘ Ri-too-fi-lal-lural.’

The effect was instantaneous. From a thicket at
no great distance a pig of larger than ordinary size
suddenly made his appearance. Not, however, a
common pig undistinguishable from the rest of the
herd, but a pig adorned with saddle and bridle and
all the trappings of a horse. He held his head
proudly and bore himself like a pig of importance as
he cantered downwards to the stream ; and so indeed
he well might do, for he bore a rider whom, from the
description given by their mother, the Princesses
instantly recognised as the Dwarf Rindelgrover.
Upright he sat upon his porcine steed, with the
1.] , THE LOST PRINCE. 31

 

golden tassel of his velvet cap streaming in the air as
he rode down towards the astonished sisters, before
whom he reined in his pig, and stood at a short
distance, bowing gracefully to his visitors. A general
grunt of ‘Well done, Rindelgrover!’ burst from the
surrounding swine upon the appearance of this
evidently powerful individual, but he appeared to
object to any such demonstration. Rising in his
stirrups, he waved his hand in a careless manner as
if to forbid further observations of a similar character,
and then bowed again to the Princesses, apparently
awaiting their pleasure.

‘Oh, sir!’ exclaimed Malvina, ‘can you—will
you—help us to get back our brother?’

‘Devonshire cream is an excellent thing for break-
fast, especially with strawberries, replied the Dwarf,
with a smile.

Pettina, who was as clever as beautiful, at once
remembered her mother’s account of the behaviour of
Rindelgrover upon their first meeting, and the ob-
jection which he had to questions. She therefore
took her part in the conversation in the following
manner. Smiling back pleasantly upon the little
gentleman, she said in her sweetest tone:

‘How nice it is to have friends in the forest to
help one when one wants anything! How happy we
should be if we knew all about our brother's disap-
pearance and what to do in order to get him back
again!’ and here, nudging her sister, who readily
understood her meaning, they both exclaimed at one
and the same moment: ‘ Ri-too-ri-lal-lural !’

The Dwarf’s face lighted up with unmistakeable
32 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [1.

 

joy: ‘Well done, young lady,’ he cried ; ‘you. have
spoken just as you ought to have spoken, and al-
though your dear sister fell into the error of asking a
question, instead of calmly stating her wishes, the
fault is one of a trifling nature, and shall at once be
overlooked. You have now only to listen to me,
which I beg you to do with great attention. The
Giant Pattle-perry is the sole cause of all the misery
which you and your parents have endured for the
last nine years. This fellow is one of the worst giants
the world ever saw, which is saying a great deal, for
those overgrown rascals are a bad lot altogether.
He inhabits the Coal Country which lies beyond this
forest, and is a terrible tyrant to his unfortunate
people, whom he compels to work in his coal-pits,
which of course bring him in a large revenue. As
the inhabitants of his country are insufficient to
supply him with all the workmen he requires, he has
long been in the habit of kidnapping anybody and
everybody he could, and being well versed in the
arts of magic, has frequently resorted to the most
unfair measures in order to carry out his ends. He
has, properly speaking, no power in this forest, except
that, being bigger than I am, I cannot drive him out
of it if he chooses to walk in it. This he does not
often do, though oftener than I could wish, and many
a roast leg of pork has graced his table which ought
now to be a living limb of one of my faithful pigs.
The Giant knows, however, that two can play at
magic as well as one, and has not lately troubled me.
But nine years ago he was here, and approached
nearer to your father’s palace than he had ever done
1] THE LOST PRINCE. 33

 

before. He saw your brother playing, and whether
from any old grudge against your family, or from a
naturally evil disposition, determined to kidnap him,
and did so accordingly, disguising himself as a puppy
until he had drawn the child some distance in pursuit
of him, and then suddenly resuming his own form,
and carrying off the astonished little fellow under his
arm. It was all the worse of him, because the poor
young Prince was too small to be of any use to him
in his coal-pits. Nor, indeed, am I certain that he
has ever been employed there. All I do know is
that, like many others, he is a captive in the Giant’s
kingdom, which can be entered with comparative
ease, but to leave which requires much care and some
little magical knowledge on the part of those who
wish to do so. You, my dear young ladies, will have
to seek your brother in that kingdom.’

The Princesses gave a start and a shudder at
these words, but the Dwarf continued with a smile:

‘There is no need to be afraid. You have power-
ful friends, and will, with proper attention to the
directions given you, overcome all the difficulties
before you. The King of the Islands and the Prince
of the River Country are my friends, and will, I know,
aid us, if necessary, with their full power. But, in the
first instance at least, cunning is more requisite than
strength. Pattle-perry himself is no match for many
others in magic. There is, however, a person called
Macklethorpe whom we have to fear more than the
Giant, whom he advises and aids. This fellow is,
like myself, of a respectable size, and not an over~
grown bulk of flesh like Pattle-perry, but this makes

D
24 WATSPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [t.

 

him all the more dangerous. Remember, however,
the mystic word of power, which, pronounced by
mortal mouth under certain conditions, cannot be
resisted by Dwarf or Giant.’

‘And what are the conditions?’ hastily asked both
the sisters in one breath. .

‘It is most desirable to have a parasol if you go
out in the sun upon a hot day,’ rejoined the Dwarf.
‘What! both of you asking questions again? Pray
get out of this bad habit at once, or we shall never
get on together. I was about to say that this word
has only its full magic power when pronounced by
persons of innocent hearts, who have not reached the
age of twenty, who never use bad language, speak ill
of their neighbours behind their backs, or eat fish
with their knives. As you two young ladies combine
allthat is necessary for the effective pronunciation of the
word, it will have great power in the mouth of either
of you, andas I am about to devote myself to your ser-
vice, you will perhaps be good enough to recollect that
if I should get into any trouble with other persons who
may employ magic arts as well as I do, you may be
of the greatest service to me as well as to yourselves
by the judicious use of the word in question.’

Rindelgrover now came to a conclusion, and the
sisters burned with curiosity to know several things
more, which, however, they dared not ask, after his
repeated statement of his objection to questions. That
which puzzled them most was why, since the worthy
Dwarf seemedto have knownthe circumstances attend-
ing the abduction of their brother for so long, he had
waited for nine years before speaking, when he might
1] THE LOST PRINCE. 35

 

at once have somewhat relieved the anxiety of their
parents. Then, why should he zow interfere at all,
and run the risk of bringing Pattle-perry’s vengeance
upon his own devoted head? They pondered deeply
upon these things, but deemed it best to remain silent
under the circumstances. And indeed I think they
were right, for it is impossible for us mortals to know
the ways of dwarfs, giants, and fairies, or to attempt
to fathom the motives by which such creatures are
actuated. So the sisters asked nothing more and
waited patiently until their little friend spoke again,
which he presently did.

‘Now,’ said he, ‘young ladies, we have a journey
to go and had better start at once. First, however,
let me recommend you to eat some of these straw-
berries, which you will find singularly refreshing’

Nothing loth, the sisters consented to this propo-
sal, and found themselves immensely strengthened by
the fruit, which had not only a delicious taste but all
the qualities and virtues of a tonic without any of its
bitterness.

“Now then,’ rejoined Rindelgrover, ‘we must be
off, and as the distance is long, I hope you will consent
to ride.’

The girls looked round, and perceived to their
surprise two pigs standing near, with side-saddles on,
all ready for their reception. They looked at each
other half doubtfully, and greatly inclined to laugh,
but wisely remembering how serious was the business
in which they were engaged, they preserved their
gtavity, mounted their respective pigs, and prepared

to follow their leader. The pigs were of good size,
D2
36 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [1.

 

and although their trot was rather rough, the
Princesses found their canter quite tolerable, and in
any case, as they had come some distance, this kind
of conveyance was just then far more agreeable than
walking. The Dwarf rode between them for some
way, discoursing in an ordinary manner about things
and people, and making himself as agreeable as he
could to his companions.

Presently the forest got thicker and they had to ride
in single file, and then again the trees became fewer
in number, the bushes and underwood less thick, and it
was evident that they were approaching the outskirts
of the forest. Their way now lay up rising ground,
or in fact the side of a mountain, upon which the trees
became still fewer, and masses of rock lay around
the travellers, gradually taking the place of the
vegetation they were leaving behind them. The
journey was no longer so pleasant, but as it was late
in the afternoon and the sun had lost its power, the
sisters continued to travel without inconvenience.
Suddenly the Dwarf stopped.

. ‘Now,’ said he, ‘my dear young ladies, we are very
near the boundary which divides us from the Giant’s
kingdom, which you will presently see. Before entering
it, however, it is desirable to let the sun set, which he
will very shortly do. You must not be surprised or
alarmed at any change which you may see take place
in my personal appearance. I shall have to disguise
myself, probably in more than one shape, as to appear
in my natural form would be fatal both to your success
and to my own existence. As, however, it is most
desirable that you should both keep those shapes
1] THE LOST PRINCE. 37

which you must allow me to call charming, I
would strongly caution you as to your behaviour.
Keep the great magic word for use in case of diffi-
culty. Meanwhile, above all things look anybody
to whom you speak straight in the face. Nothing
disconcerts a knave more than a pair of honest
eyes looking into his. Don’t look behind you or down
upon the ground. Eat and drink what is offered
to you, but always remember to say the word to
yourselves before you do so. Nothing can hurt
you then. We must abandon our steeds here: in fact
no pig would be safe for a moment in the Giant’s
country, and their presence would betray us at once.
You had better walk straight forward into the country
—in fact I will lead the way—and when accosted,
say you are come on a visit to Pattle-perry, and
demand to be led to his palace. When there, boldly
tell him that you have come in search of your
brother, lost some nine years ago, and whom you
have reason to believe is in his kingdom, and
when the matter has been thus fairly started, I can
only leave you to the instincts of your own common
sense, guided by the advice and instructions which I
have had the honour and pleasure of giving you.’
With these words, the worthy Rindelgrover jumped
lightly from his steed, and having politely assisted the
Princesses to dismount also, turned the three pigs’ heads
' in a homeward direction, and waved his hand towards
the forest. The sensible animals needed no further
orders, but set off at best speed down the hill with
deep grunts of satisfaction. Then the Dwarf pointed
out the ledge of a rock upon which the sisters might
38 WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND. [i.

sit down, and taking his own seat near them, waited
until the sun should have hid his head before the
approaching shades of evening.

In a few minutes this was the case, and at the
direction of the Dwarf, the three travellers all rose up
and ascended the hill once more. They had not far
to go, for at the distance of a few yards they were on
the top of the ridge of hill, and suddenly came upon
the view of the country beyond. The girls started
back with “astonishment. Their own country was full
of meads and dales, woods and streams, plants and
flowers, the glorious vegetation of a fertile land.
Before their eyes was.a country entirely different.
Bare and bleak and barren it looked, the treés stunted
and rugged, the green fields few and far between.
But, ever and anon, bright fires flashing up over the
surface of the country showed its character at once to
those who knew what they betokened. The wealth of
that land was below and not above the surface. It was
the country of coal and iron, and the furnace fires
spoken of in the squirrels’ song were roaring in every
direction. Strange and weird and wiid it looked to the
sisters as they gazed upon it that night, and much
they marvelled at the contrast between this country
and that which they had left behind.

Glancing round at their companion to make some
observation upon the view before them, to their utter
astonishment they perceived that he had disappeared.
In his place, however, was a black and tan terrier, who
ran sniffing about from rock to rock and presently ran
up and fawned upon them in the most affectionate
manner. They could scarcely believe that this ani-
1] THE LOST PRINCE. 39

 

mal was none other than their diminutive friend, but a
few words from him at once showed them that this
was the fact, and they became more than ever con-
vinced of his power to help them in the matter which
they had so much at heart. So they patted the little
fellow with much kindness, called him ‘ Pincher,’
according to his expressed desire, and forthwith
entered the Giant’s country with this faithful coun-
sellor at their heels.

They had not proceeded far down the side of the
hill which they now had to descend, before they per-
ceived several persons standing and sitting about upon
the rocks some little way in front of them, apparently
awaiting theircoming. A whine from Pincher warned
them to be on their guard, and they accordingly ad-
vanced quietly along the track into which they had
come, and which led them directly towards the spot
upon which these individuals had placed themselves.
As the Princesses drew near, the persons in question
all stood in the roadway, and an ill-looking set of
fellows they were. Begrimed with coal-dust, un-
shaven, most of them in their shirt-sleeves, they were
not exactly the description of persons whom delicately
nurtured princesses would have desired to encounter.
Still the sisters resolutely proceeded down the road,
and such was the dignity of their appearance and
manner, that the men instinctively recoiled before
them. However, one of the party, who wore a red
sash round his waist and appeared to be in a position
of authority, stepped forward in front of the rest and
accosted the travellers.

‘Hallo! my wenches!’ he cried, ‘Who be ye
40 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [1.

 

that would enter the territory of the great and
glorious Pattle-perry ? Show us your passports !?

The sisters were sadly confused in this address, for
neither Rindelgrover nor anyone else had hinted at
passports being necessary in order to enter the country
of the Giant, and they certainly had nothing of the
kind about them. The ready wit of Pettina, how-
ever, came to their aid, and she said, whilst both she
and her sister looked the speaker straight in the
face,

‘What nonsense you are talking! no passports
are necessary when we are going to visit our uncle
Pattle-perry. Leave the road free, or you shall be
reported without fail.’

At these words the man turned as pale as the black
dust on his face would permit, and drew back re-
spectfully without another word, as did his companions
also. The two Princesses walked calmly through
them, followed closely by Pincher, and descended the
rest of the hill without interruption. They observed,
however, that two of the men followed them at a
distance, which caused Malvina some alarm.

‘My dear sister,’ she remarked, ‘you have doubt-
less done cleverly in getting us over ¢hat difficulty,
but I greatly fear what the result may be. Those
who follow. us will doubtless report your words at
court, and if the Giant hears that we have claimed him
as our uncle, he may take advantage of the pretended
relationship to detain us in his kingdom for a longer
time than we wish to stay.’

‘Never mind, my darling sister,’ replied Pettina,
‘T was obliged to say what came uppermost at the
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE GIANT PATTLE-PERRY
1] THE LOST PRINCE. 41

 

moment, but I feel sure that we shall get out of the
difficulty if it arises. Let us go boldly on, and hope for
the best; see how Pincher is showing his teeth in a
pleasant manner, and wagging his tail at the same
time. I know se approves—don’t you, Pincher ?’

A low whine from the little animal was perfectly
understood by the sisters to signify ‘Yes—but be
cautious, and they were about to continue their
conversation, when it was prevented by another inci-
dent. The roll.of a drum was heard not far in front ;
then the shrill blast of a trumpet, and the heavy tread
of men marching, betokened the approach of some
military body. The sisters paused, in doubt as to what
they had better do, and in another moment a cloud
of dust showed that the force, whatever it might be,
was close at hand. Round the corner of the road
there presently turned the drummers, vigorously drum-
ming away as they came on, and then followed a band
of mixed instruments, making clamour enough to make
the two ladies stop their ears and wish themselves a
thousand miles off, inasmuch as the noise was not
relieved by tune or harmony. Then, marching four
abreast, came a body of men all above the usual
height, dressed in white tunics, bare from the knee
to the feet, which were shod with thick sandals, and
carrying in their hands axes which rested upon their
brawny shoulders. They were a rough-looking set of
soldiers, but not so rough as the person who followed.
In an open car, larger than any car that ever was
made before or since, and drawn by eight immense
black horses, sat the Giant Pattle-perry: he was at
least ten feet high; his head was in proportion as
42 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [1.

 

enormous as his body, which, though stupendous in
size, was not unwieldy, and betokened the possession
of vast strength. In truth, his arms, which were bare,
showed one mass of muscle, and his legs were equally
powerful. His black hair clustered in curls over his
head, on which he wore a small white ‘wide-awake,’
which gave him rather a ridiculous appearance ; his
forehead was low and receding, his eyes large and
staring, his nose came forth like a small hill out of his
face, and when he smiled, his large mouth disclosed a
set of teeth which might well have frightened any-
body who did not know that since the days of steam,
railways, and vote by ballot, giants have given up
being cannibals, and only eat beef, mutton, pork, and
such like things, after the fashion of ordinary mortals.
Around the car of the Giant ran a number of young
men on either side, lightly clad and armed with short
spears, whilst behind there followed a motley crowd of
horse and foot, among whom dirt and coal-dust were
the distinguishing characteristics.

The two Princesses, when they saw this procession
advancing towards them, turned aside out of the road
and sat down upon a rock at a short distance off ; but
as soon as the Giant’s car came opposite to them, he
shouted out in a mighty voice the order to halt.

‘What ho!’ cried he, when this had been done,
‘What ho! whom have we here! damsels wandering
alone through our country, and damsels, if we may
judge by their appearance, of no mean birth. Draw
near, my children, draw near, and tell us whence ye
come, and what ye seek in our kingdom ?’

As he spoke, the Giant cast a look upon the
1] THE LOST PRINCE. 43

sisters which he possibly intended to convey a friendly
feeling in the form of a pleasant smile, but which to
their eyes presented the appearance of such a frightful
grimace that they felt more than half inclined to run
away there and then. Knowing, however, that this
would be worse than useless, they very wisely re-
strained their inclination, and, rising from the rock on
which they had been seated, approached the Giant in
a timid but respectful manner.

“Who are ye, maidens?’ asked Pattle-perry with
another awful leer which he meant for a reassuring
smile.

‘We are the daughters of the King of the Flowery
Vale, answered Malvina, looking him straight in the
face.

‘Fool and dolt and idiot that I was,’ immediately
cried the Giant, slapping his thigh violently, whilst his
face lighted up with a sudden and indescribable joy ;
‘aye, and ass and pig, and wooden-headed ape into
the bargain, not to have known at the first glance
that it was the daughters of my good neighbour upon
whom I was gazing. No other ladies are so lovely,
and none others would I welcome so readily to my
country. And what seek ye, fair damsels, that ye
have wandered so far from home?’

‘We have come,’ answered Malvina, still keeping
her eyes fast fixed upon the Giant’s face—though it
was by no means a pleasant object for a girl to gaze
upon, especially as he seldom washed and had cer-
tainly not shaved that morning—‘ we have come to
seek our brother, who was lost some nine years ago,
44 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. fi.

 

and whom we have reason to believe is somewhere or
other in your kingdom,’

The Giant’s face crimsoned—then turned pale—
and then crimsoned again at these words.

‘By the memory of my great ancestor Grind-
bones !’ exclaimed he (referring to a fearful giant of
olden time, whose name is well known to all those
lovers of Fairy-tales who have read the marvellous
adventures of Joe Brown and Puss-Cat-Mew®*), ‘ what
wonderful tale is this ye bring! How can I tell where
everybody’s brother may be who happens to get lost?
However, come with me, my chickens, come with me,
and we will see all about it. Lucky it is that I made
my progress through the land in this direction to-day,
else had I missed ye. Come, jump up on to my car!’

As he spoke, the young men on the side of the car
nearest the Princesses made way for them to approach.
: The sisters trembled and hesitated, but it was very
plain to them that neither trembling nor hesitation
would avail in the slightest degree, and that there was
nothing for it but to obey the Giant’s orders. As he
was alone in his car, there was plenty of room for both
the girls by his side, especially as the vehicle was con-
structed to carry two (supposing they could be found)
of the same size as himself. With some little difficulty
therefore, and much greater dislike to it, they clam-
bered up into the car, or open chariot, as it might
more properly be called, when, at that moment, the
eye of the Giant lighted upon the dog Pincher, who
was following closely at their heels.

‘Ha!’ said he sharply and suddenly, ‘what dog

* See Stories for my Children, by the same Author.
1] ‘THE LOST PRINCE. 45

 

is that? I like not his looks—run me that cur through
with a spear, men!’

In another moment his order would have been
obeyed, had not Pettina remembered on the instant
how much might depend upon Pincher’s safety, and
how ungrateful it would be, if she did not, without the
delay of a second, interpose to save him.

‘Ri-too-ri-lal-lural!’ she hastily called out, looking
at the Giant as she did so; ‘that is my favourite dog,
sir, and I must beg of you not to have him hurt!’

Several men had already lifted their spears to
strike, when the younger Princess uttered the magic
word. On the instant every spear was stayed, whilst
the Giant put his hand to his forehead as if confused
by something, and muttered moodily to himself as he
gave the orders to march. Poor Pincher, meanwhile,
took the opportunity of following the Princesses into
the carriage and jumping into Pettina’s lap, where he
nestled down and made himself comfortable, though
she felt him tremble and his heart beat violently as
she patted him. When they had gone a few paces
further, they met the two men who had followed the
Princesses down the mountain, and the Giant, recog-
nising them as some of his border police, stopped to
ask for their report, which they accordingly gave.
Pattle-perry grinned from ear to ear when he heard
that the Princesses had claimed him for their uncle.

‘My charming nieces!’ he cried, ‘though I knew
it not before, I am delighted to own such relations—
you shall stay a long time with your old uncle, my
pets, that you shall!’ and he laughed and chuckled
_loudly to himself as he drove on.
46 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [r.

Presently the road turned to the right, and’
gradually bore round towards a huge mass of buildings
which the sisters perceived in the distance, and which
the Giant informed them with a gracious air was the
castle which he used as a palace, and in which he
would take care that they were provided with apart-
ments suitable to their rank. Not deeming that
moment a fitting opportunity for entering further
upon the business which had brought them there, the
sisters merely bowed their thanks for the proffered
hospitality which they would have given their ears to
have declined if possible.

The procession advanced nearer and nearer to
the palace, and at length reached it. The carriage
drove into an enormous court-yard, paved with
iron, over which it rumbled up to a vast gate which
was thrown open as one of the attendants touched
a huge bell which sent forth a deafening peal. The
Giant now descended, and assisted the trembling
Princesses to do the same, which they accordingly did,
Pettina keeping Pincher safe under her arm. Inside
the gate was a smaller yard, which the Giant crossed,
and opened a door on the further side, opposite which
was a flight of handsome stone steps leading into a
spacious corridor. From the latter folding doors
openedinto a magnificent drawing-room, into which the
Giant conducted his guests, and prayed them to make
themselves at home, whilst he went to give orders for
the preparation of the apartments which they would
occupy. Just before he left the room, however, he
turned to Pettina, and observed somewhat moodily,

‘T don’t allow dogs in my drawing-room.’
1] THE LOST PRINCE. 47

“Oh, sir!’ replied she, ‘I am sure you will not object
to my little pet ; I assure you he will hurt no one,’

‘But I do object, retorted the Giant with an angry
look ; ‘I object very much, and I do not see why Iam
to have what I don’t like in my own palace,’

As he spoke, he turned back and took a step to-
wards the Princess, as if he were half inclined to take
the animal from her. ‘ Ri-too-ri-lal-lural’ gently
hummed the maiden as he approached. He stopped
suddenly.

‘Well,’ said he, ‘I suppose you must have yout
own way,’ and abruptly left the room.

As soon as ever he was gone, Pincher struggled to
be set free, and in a low and whining voice told the
sisters that it was evident the Giant knew or suspected
that there was something wrong about him.

“Still,” said he, ‘as long as he is alone, I fear not,
but should others more powerful than he come to visit
him whilst we are here, I shall have to “look out for
squalls,” and you must be prepared to see me assume
different shapes, and must take care to help meas I
have directed you. Meanwhile, do not lose any time in
pressing him upon the matter which you have in hand,
otherwise he will continually put you off with excuses,
and you may find greater difficulties than ought to be
the case.’ Having said these words, the little fellow
ran under a sofa and hid ; shortly after which the Giant
re-entered the room.

‘Princesses,’ he said, ‘your apartments are prepared
for you; and as you have brought no maid with you,
my worthy housekeeper, Dame Skrinklegriggs, will be
happy to attend upon you.’
48 . WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [I.

 

‘Sir, responded Malvina, with a queenly air, ‘ pray
do not disturb your excellent domestic on our account
—for excellent I do not doubt she is, albeit her name
chance to be none of the most euphonious. We
can wait upon each other, and have long been ac-
customed to dispense with maids, who constantly pull
one’s hair, talk when they are not wanted to do so, and
not unfrequently smell disagreeably of beer. We will
beg, therefore, to dispense with your housekeeper’s
assistance. And before we proceed to the rooms
which you have been good enough to provide for us,
we would fain enquire of you as to the brother of whom
we are in search. What steps do you propose to take
in order to make that search effectual ?’

The Giant’s brow darkened as Malvina spoke these
words. ‘Quench my philanthropy !’ cried he—using
an oath now almost out of date, but once greatly in
vogue among giants and ogres, and bearing at that time
a fearful import,—‘ you speak like a queen, young lady,
and seem to intend to have it all yourownway. Scorn
the attentions of my housekeeper and require me to
proceed to business before dinner! May I never
touch pickled pork again—let alone cabbage—if I do
any such thing. Let us eat and drink, and talk of
business to-morrow morning. Surely that will be time
enough !’

‘Sir, replied the elder Princess in the same calm,
cold. tone, ‘we would not be discourteous, neither
do we desire to trouble you unnecessarily. Neverthe-
less, we may not be backward in urging the matter
about which we have come hither, neither can we pay
1] THE LOST PRINCE. 49

 

you a long visit, considering that our parents are
left sorrowing at home.’

‘Not pay me a long visit!’ shouted the Giant.
‘As sure as my name's Pattle-perry you will find
there are two words to ¢kat bargain. It is easier to
get into this kingdom than to get out of it, my
dears! Besides, he added with a grin, ‘when nieces
come to see their uncle, and openly acknowledge him
as such, neither law nor magic can prevent his keep-
ing them until all parties are agreed that the visit
should come to an end. So don’t think to leave me
just yet, my pretty pets!’

The sisters changed colour at these words. They
felt it was but too probable that their public recogni-
tion of the Giant as their uncle (to which title he had
no more claim than the Manin the Moon) might have
put them in some measure in his power, and they
trembled at the thought. However, it was evidently
desirable to put the best face on the matter, and so
Pettina, taking up the conversation, said :

‘Sir, we have no desire save to do what our duty
compels us; and since you say it will be inconvenient
for you to discuss this question to-night, be so good as
to fix an houras early as may be to-morrow morning
when we may have it thoroughly sifted. And as to
scorning the attentions of your housekeeper, such a
thought never fora moment entered our heads. We
only wished to avoid giving the old lady unnecessary
trouble, and we shall still prefer to do our own hair
and dress ourselves. But if the housekeeper chooses
to bring us our warm water, put our things straight,

E
50 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [t.

and see us safe to bed, I am sure that neither my
sister nor I will have the slightest objection,’

Somewhat mollified by this speech, the Giant said
he would tell Dame Skrinklegriggs, and muttered
something about ‘seeing after the other business to-
morrow morning, with which the sisters were obliged
to be contented. They declined dinner, however, on
the score of being greatly fatigued after their long
journey, and having had some tea in their own rooms,
went early to bed.

The night was passed seaiely as quietly as they
might have wished, inasmuch as the household of a
giant is generally one of riot and revelry. Being, how-
ever, nearly worn out with the day’s exertions, the
sisters slept soundly, and were obliged to be roused
by Dame Skrinklegriggs, a withered, blear-eyed, old
crone nearly as ill-favoured as the giant himself, who
accomplished her purpose by untucking the clothes at
the foot of Malvina’s bed, and pinching her great toe
violently, that being among giants the approved mode
of waking the heavy sleeper. The faithful Pincher
passed the night under the sofa in the drawing-room,
and, having taken care to avoid the Giant’s eye, joined
the Princesses as they descended the grand staircase,
and once more entered the drawing-room, whence they:
were ushered by obsequious lacqueys into the dining-
room in which the giant usually breakfasted. He was
already there, and roared out his welcome as soon as
the sisters made their appearance.

‘Now, my little ducklings,’ he said, ‘come and
‘breakfast with your old uncle Pattle-perry. You must
‘get used to our ways at once, for now I’ve got ye I shall
1] THE LOST PRINCE. 5I

 

keep ye, and he laughed and grinned more hideously
than ever.

‘Sir, observed Malvina sternly, ‘neither my sister
nor I are disposed for joking at present.’

‘Do you callit joking indeed ?’ rejoined the Giant.
“Were the King your father here, he would tell you that
it is no joke to be once within the walls of the Castle
of Pattle-perry. But more of this anon: fall to and
eat, my lambkins !’

‘Not so, sir, exclaimed Pettina, now stepping to
the front. ‘You deferred until this morning the busi-
ness upon which we have come to your kingdom,
and we must now press upon you that immediate
search be made for our brother.’

‘ Hoity, toity ! pig’s fry and potatoes!’ laughed the
Giant at these words. ‘Must you rule everybody,
little lassie? Suppose I will have nothing to say to
your request ? What then, eh?’

Pettina regarded him with a steady gaze: ‘ Ri-too-
ri—’ she began.

‘Hold!’ cried the Giant : ‘Don’t sing at breakfast
time! But what the dickens should I know of your
brother ?’

‘ Sir” exclaimed Malvina hastily, ‘we know that
you carried him away nine years ago and we want
him back !?

‘No!’ roared the Giant. ‘Who told you that?
Bumble-bees and blackberries ! Somebody has been
telling tales out of school! But suppose somebody
has told a cram—a buster—a story—a regular down-

right fib? Am 1a likely fellow to trouble myself to

E2
52 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [1.

carry off a boy? Don’t you go and believe every-
thing you hear, my pretty little poppets !’

‘Then sir, promptly replied Pettina, ‘if you had
nothing to do with carrying him off, you cannot object
to enquiry being made for him.’

‘Not a bit of it!’ cried the Giant. ‘Only let us
have a bit of an agreement. If I find your brother for
you, one of you will have to marry me, and stay and
live here always !’

At this remark the sisters felt a thrill of horror
run through them, but, thinking it best to dissemble,
Malvina, as soon as she could find voice to speak,
answered the Giant in these words :

‘We cannot think of marriage, sir, until our
brother is found and restored to his disconsolate pa-
rents: then, indeed, gratitude to the restorer will
incline us most kindly towards him, whoever he may
be.’

‘Well said, young lady, cried the Giant at this
speech, ‘But now, pray tell me, how shall you dis-
cover your brother if you see him after so long an
absence? He must be mightily changed since you
last saw him.’

Thus interrogated, the Princesses looked at each
other with some doubt and distress, for this was a
difficulty which had never hitherto struck them. No-
thing daunted, however, the clever and thoughtful
Pettina presently pulled out from her pocket a copy of
the original advertisement, published, as has been
already mentioned, upon the loss of Prince Mirabel,
and this she handed to the Giant, who attentively re-
garded it, although as, like most other giants, he was
1] THE LOST PRINCE. 53

unable to read, he derived but little information from
the document. However, the thought crossed his
mind that if any fair description of the boy were
given in this paper, he might easily palm off upon the
girls one of his people, and thus obtain from their
gratitude the promise of marriage which he saw would
be otherwise difficult, especially as Pettina, at least,
appeared to have a certain knowledge of magic, and
it was her he rather preferred of the two. So, under
pretence of making some enquiries he left the room,
and submitted the advertisement to his housekeeper,
who read and explained it to him.
‘Well, said he, on hearing what were its contents,
‘I don’t see why we shouldn’t try it on. Let me see.
It will be easy to produce a diamond-set girdle, for ten
to one the Princesses won't recollect the right one ;
then, “on his arma mark blue.” I wish it were “black
and blue,” for most of the servants in the palace could
show marks answering to that description. Search
and look, Dame Skrinklegriggs, and send up some
one soon with whom I may satisfy these girls.’
- When the old housekeeper had promised to do her
best, the Giant returned to the Princesses, and told
them that he had good hope of being able to produce
their brother, for that he had just heard that there
was a youth attached to his household who had
wandered there, no one knew whence, about the time
of the loss, and who certainly had on a girdle of the
description mentioned, and a mark upon his arm of a
decidedly bluish tinge. This speedy compliance with
their: wishes surprised and pleased the sisters, but
Pincher took an opportunity of winking his eye when
54 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [..

 

the Giant was not looking, as if to caution them
against being deceived. No long time elapsed before
a knock at the door was heard, and a young man was
ushered into their presence. He was tall and well-
built, and generally of good appearance, although the
Princesses could recognise no resemblance to their
brother’s features. Then the Giant commanded him
to bare his arm, which he did, having previously, how-
ever, endeavoured to embrace his supposed sisters,
which they declined to allow, and having given a
short statement of having been lost in the forest, and
having strayed into the coal country, upon which they
did not care to question him until the mark had first
been seen. Accordingly, he bared his right arm and
displayed an undoubted blue mark which would
have corresponded with the advertisement perfectly
well.

‘This, then, must be your lost brother!’ cried the
Giant.

‘ Alas, sir!’ answered Malvina, ‘the only drawback
we at present perceive was, that the blue mark upon
our brother was upon the /ef¢ and not the right arm ;
so that this cannot be he.’

At this the Giant flew into a passion, which, how-
ever, he had the discretion to vent upon the young
man, whom he denounced as an impostor, and vowed
he should be torn in pieces by wild dogs forthwith.
The Princesses, however, begged that he might be
pardoned, since no one really suffered from his fault,
and this they did the more earnestly as they were
now well. convinced that the Giant had himself con-
cocted the fraud. They then asked him again to be
ral THE LOST PRINCE. 55

 

so good as to direct further enquiries to be made; to
which he somewhat reluctantly consented, being im-
pelled thereto by the conduct of Pettina, who kept
her eye upon him, and hummed the magic word in a
low tone whenever she saw him inclined to adopt his
natural tone and quit the politeness which he had
assumed for the occasion.

At last he promised that all the younger members
of his household should be paraded before luncheon,
and that the youths from the colliery should pass
before the Princesses in the afternoon. This was
accordingly done, but without any satisfactory result.
Several people showed blue marks on their arms;
and such was the desire which each of them had
to be proclaimed a Prince, and the brother of two
such lovely ladies, that they all declared they had
strayed into that country nine years ago with a
diamond-set girdle around them. But the sisters
were not to be taken in: they knew of more than the
advertisement, and either the unusual toe or the
scratch on the thigh, proved fatal to all the claims
which were advanced. At last the two Princesses
became quite tired of the amusement, and plainly
told the Giant that they believed he knew all about
their brother, and was only trifling with them. The
wily Pattle-perry assured them that they were mis-
taken, and was about to make some further excuses,
when he suddenly exclaimed :

‘Ah! here comes a friend who will help us all out
of our difficulties.’

Looking round, the young ladies perceived a very
small gig with a very small man in it, driving along
at a great pace, and rapidly approaching them. At
56 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [.

the sight of this man Pincher trembled violently, and
crouched behind the sisters. The new comer was
clad in a bottle-green coat with brass buttons, white
waistcoat and kerseymere trowsers, and he wore upon
his head a glazed sailor’s hat, gaily ornamented with
buttercups, daisies, and dandelions stuck all around it.

‘ How are you, Macklethorpe ?’ shouted the Giant
in a loud voice, as the little man drove up.

‘So-so, thank you, Royal Pattle-perry,’ replied
the other. ‘But I have come to tell you to be on
your guard. That nasty little Rindelgrover is out on
mischief somewhere. I know it from a pig which I
met and killed as I was driving on the edge of the
forest, and-who confessed it in the hopes of my spar-
ing his life, which I didn’t, knowing your fondness for
pork, and wishing to make you a present. The little
scamp is, I have good reason to believe, within your
kingdom at this moment—perhaps within your
very presence. To prevent mischief, therefore, I have
brought my magic onion, with which, when one
touches one’s‘eyes one can penetrate every disguise,
however cleverly assumed; so in a moment or two
we shall know whether I have been rightly in-
formed.’

So saying, the wily Dwarf put his hand into his
trowsers’ pocket, pulled out an onion, and gently
touched his eyes with it; then he looked right and
left, and presently his eyes fell upon the two Prin-
cesses.

‘Daisies and dandelions!’ he cried, ‘why here are
the two daughters of the King of the Flowery Meads!
who'd have thought of seeing hem here of all people!’
1] THE LOST PRINCE. 57

Out laughed the Giant as he heard this observa-
tion. op

‘Sweet girls!’ he said. ‘Know you not, Mackle-
thorpe, that these maidens claim me as their Uncle
Pattle-perry ? they have come to look for their brother
forsooth—ha ha!

At these words, and at the manner of the speaker,
Pettina grew very angry, and stepping quickly forward
was about to address to the Giant some remark by
which he would not have been flattered. Unfortu-
nately, the suddenness of her movement left Pincher
for a moment unconcealed, and the eyes of the Dwarf
Macklethorpe fell directly upon him. With a shrill
yell, which so startled the girl that she quite forgot what
she was about to say, the Dwarf screamed out fran-
tically :

‘That's he! that’she! I see him! Isee him! The
little beast has taken the shape of a dog! Kill him!
kill him!’

And now ensued a most extraordinary scene.
Macklethorpe placed one of his hands on the small
of his back, the other on his forehead, and uttered a
strange sound, immediately after which he became a
large bull-terrier of twice the size and weight of his
adversary, and rushed furiously at him. But Rindel-
grover was equal to the occasion; curving his tail
over his back, lifting his paw on to his nose, and
giving vent in his turn to a wondrous noise, he in-
stantly became a tremendously powerful mastiff, from
whom the bull-terrier had only just time to escape.
In another instant, however, he reappeared in the
form of a tiger, with whom the mastiff would have
58 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [1.

 

had but little chance had he not, with equal celerity,
converted himself into a lion, and stood boldly in
front of his enemy, roaring horribly. Macklethorpe,
not to be outdone, immediately changed into a rhin-
oceros, and secure in his impenetrable hide, savagely
ran at the lion, who as quickly became a pigeon, and
darted off at best speed. Within a second a large
hawk followed the poor bird, which would certainly
have been in great danger had not Pettina at this
eventful moment recovered her presence of mind and
her voice together, and loudly shouted, ‘Macklethorpe!
hawk! Ri-too-ri-lal-lural!? The effect was instan-
taneous. The pigeon flew off unharmed, whilst the
hawk, suddenly stopping in its flight, wheeled round,
alighted on the ground, and speedily resumed its
proper shape, disclosing a countenance full of baffled
spite and rage, as the owner stood before the young
Princesses.

‘Q-o-0-0-0-h!’ he bellowed out as soon as he
could find breath to do so. Yow are friends with that
little wood-beast, are you? You've learned how to
help your friends, have you? That’s it, is it? But
you haven't learned everything yet, I can tell you!
You called me by my name when you used that word
of power just now. When you do ¢kat you can’t use
that word to me any more fora month, my vixen; so
now you shall find out what it is to have made an
enemy of me. You little puny, skinny, scullery-maid
of a girl—how dare you ?’

So saying, the infuriated Dwarf stepped up to the
poor Pettina, who had unwittingly fallen into so
serious an error, and seemed much inclined to inflict
1] THE LOST PRINCE. 59

 

upon her personal chastisement then and there. But
Malvina stood forward with her queenly air and
waved the little man backwards.

‘How dare you use such words to a lady?’ said
she. ‘Remember that J have not called you by your
name, and I will not have harm done to my sister.’

At this the Dwarf recoiled for a moment, but
having recovered himself, he accosted the Giant in
these words:

‘Great and Royal Pattle-perry, you have seen
how these two she-foxes have deceived you. By so
doing they have certainly given you every right to
consider them as your slaves, and as such I certainly
advise you to treat them. They may talk big and
think great things of themselves if they please, but
so long as you do not lay violent hands on them, they
will find their magic word of little value against my
magic arts. I would confine them in separate
dungeons and keep them there until they make
humble submission to you and consent to do what-
ever you require of them.’

The poor sisters were so oppressed by the de-
parture of their friend, and so overwhelmed by the
words of the Dwarf, who appeared to know so much,
that they knew not what to do, and when the Giant,
evidently enraged at the deception practised upon
him by Rindelgrover, gave the orders suggested by
the Dwarf, they suffered themselves to be led away
without a murmur or remonstrance. It was not,
however, to a dungeon they were taken, but to two
small rooms in a high tower, in one of the wings of
the Giant’s palace. This was called the ‘turret
60 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [.

 

tower, and was ascended by a spiral staircase. The
Princesses were conducted up to a considerable height
from. the ground, until they came to a landing from
which doors opened right and left into two rooms,
one of which was appropriated to each of them. This
was the first real trouble they had had to endure, and
it was rendered worse by the fact of their being
separated for the first time in their lives. They wept
bitterly, and would have felt inclined to give way to
despair, if it had not been that their pride of birth
and the old courage of their race alike forbade them
to do so. .

So having cried as much as they thought neces-
sary, they each began to look about them, and then
discovered that not only was there only one wall
between their two rooms, but that, although this was
of a thick and substantial character, grates had been
let in at one or two places, for the purpose of ventila-
tion, through which they could without difficulty
converse from time to time. As this tower faced the
mountain-side down which the Princesses had de-
scended into the Giant’s country, the intelligent reader
will at once remark that the side windows of the
rooms in which the sisters were confined naturally
afforded a view right and left. It so happened that
Malvina had the right hand, Pettina the left hand
view, and each described to the other that which shesaw.

‘Pettina, my darling!’ said her elder sister, ‘I
can see miles and miles away; the tower is so high
that I almost lose my eyesight in the distance—it
seems endless.’ ;

‘But what do you see?’ asked the other.
1] THE LOST PRINCE. 61

 

‘Why, far, far away I see the waters of the blue
sea. The country from hence is rough and rugged
for some way, but beyond it I see green fields and
trees far off, and the sea still farther off; and I see
islands dotted about in the expanse of blue ocean.
One, two, three—several of them—they must be very,
very far off.’

‘And I, said Pettina in her turn, ‘I also see a
long way. First comes the country such as you
describe it, rough and rugged and barren, and then I
see a large tract of beautiful meadows and corn-lands,
and a beautiful large river winding its way through
what is evidently a fertile country; but it seems a
long way off!’ and Pettina sighed as she spoke.

At that moment they heard a voice on the stair-
case, and in another moment Malvina’s room was
entered by no less a personage than Dame Skrinkle-
griges herself.

‘Well, my fine Miss,’ she began at once, setting
her arms akimbo. ‘So you’ve been trying to humbug
the master, have you, you brother-hunting jackanapes?
Pll warrant me you'll be cured of your tantrums be-
fore we've done with you! Here’s your supper, my
young hussy; bread and water—and that’s all the
victuals you are likely to get for some time to come,
f can tell you!’

So saying, the old woman put down a jug of water
and a loaf of stale bread upon the table, and as
Malvina vouchsafed her no answer, went away to the
next room muttering to herself. She entered Pettina’s
room, and accosted her in much the same manner,
assuring her that she would never leave that tower,
62, WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [I.

 

unless the Giant was fool enough to marry her, in
which case she would most likely soon follow the fate
of the seventeen wives whom he had already wedded
and sent off into the coal-pits as soon as he got tired
of them. As Pettina thought this was very likely an
invention of the old woman’s, she took no notice of
it, and, finding she was not likely to get much out of
either of her prisoners, the housekeeper shortly after-
wards took her departure. The night passed wearily
for the two Princesses. Sleep was absent from their
pillows, and to the recollection of their lost brother
was added their own misfortune, involving a captivity
which appeared, for all they could tell, likely to be
permanent.

They were early astir upon the following day, and
wished each other ‘good morning’ through the grating.
It was a lovely morning : the sun was shining brightly
in at their windows, and everything looked beautiful
in -his glowing light. As soon as the sisters had
dressed, and eaten the frugal breakfast of bread and
water which had been left them over-night by the
crabbed old housekeeper, each repaired to her window
in order to gaze upon the view therefrom, which ap-
peared likely to be the principal amusement by which
their captivity would be lightened. At the same
instant each gave vent to an exclamation of surprise.

‘Pettina! Pettina!’ cried Malvina; ‘I see an
army of white horses, miles away still, but evidently
coming in this direction. Can it be that they are
coming to help us poor girls?’

‘Oh, Malvina!’ cried her sister; ‘what do you
think Z see? Thousands upon thousands of swans!
1] THE LOST PRINCE. 63

the air is positively dark with them, although they
are as yet at some distance! What caz it mean?’

Whilst they were still giving vent to such excla-
mations as these, suddenly a bird flew up against
Pettina’s window and pecked loudly for admittance.
The Princess immediately threw open the window
and in flew the bird. It was a pigeon, and had
scarcely alighted in the room when it made sundry
contortions, and directly afterwards assumed the form
of the Dwarf Rindelgrover.

‘Dear Princess!’ he exclaimed as soon as he was
sufficiently recovered to speak. ‘All will go well
with you and your sister. Be not afraid. The King
of the Islands is coming at the head of his army on
white horses, and the River King is half way here
with his swans, against which it is well known no
magic power can ever prevail. I have hurried here
as fast as possible in order to relieve your anxiety,
and must now go and tell your lovely sister the good
news.’

“You need not do that,’ said a voice through the
grating, which they recognised at once to be that of
Malvina. ‘I could not help hearing what you said,
and am overjoyed to hear that succour is near at
hand,

Scarcely had she spoken, before a loud noise of
voices was heard upon the stairs, and in a few mo-
ments messengers from the Giant appeared, who had
been ordered to conduct the Princesses to the draw-
ing-room without an instant’s delay. Before they
left their rooms, however, the good Rindelgrover had
just time to change himself into a bluebottle fly, and
64 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. (i.

 

buzzing round the heads of the two sisters as they
descended the stairs, he told them that if the magic
word was at all weakened in its force as regarded
Macklethorpe, by what had passed, the word ‘ Fol-de-
rol-liddle,’ repeated after it, would be quite too much
for him. Thus cautioned and advised, the Princesses
entered the drawing-room, where they found the Giant
pacing up and down in great agitation and excite-
ment, whilst Macklethorpe was sitting cross-legged on
the hearth-rug. As soon as ever he saw them, the
owner of the palace began to speak.

“What does this mean ?’ he said. ‘I received you
kindly ; Idenied you no request ; yet you have intro-
duced an enemy into my kingdom, and I am now in-
formed that an army is advancing against my people
from two separate quarters. Queer kind of nieces
are ye, I think !’

‘Sir, returned Malvina in a grave tone, ‘we have
done you no wrong, neither do we desire that any
evil should befall you: only give us our brother and
let us go, and we will do our best to prevent mis-
chief.’

‘Harrico your brother, and you too!’ cried the
Giant ina rage. ‘I'll see about both of you presently.
Meantime I shall leave you in friend Macklethorpe’s
charge, for I must go and drive off those friends of
yours, whom I hear of as coming to invade my
country. When I return I shall probably marry one
of you girls myself, and give the other to Mackle-
thorpe ; so now you know what to expect ;) and with
these words he left the room in a passion.

Macklethorpe now rose from the hearth-rug, and
1] : THE LOST PRINCE. 65

 

approached Pettina, under whose sleeve the Blue-
bottle fly had carefully hidden himself.

_ ‘Now, my vixen,’ he said, ‘you are under my care
for the day, so you had better behave yourself. When
the Giant has slain and captured your friends, you
will see what fools you and your sister have been to
come on this wild-goose chase after your brother.’

‘Wild-goose chase, indeed!’ retorted Pettina; ‘ you
had better take care you don’t have to deal with
swans instead of geese.’

As she spoke she glanced at the windows, and
saw the swan army rapidly approaching the castle,
while the shouts upon the other side told that the
army of white horsemen were already engaged with
the Giant’s people. Irritated by her words, the Dwarf
approached close to her and raised his hand as if to
bestow upon her the undignified rebuke of a slap on
the cheek. The indignant Trincess stepped hastily
backwards, exclaiming as she did so—‘ Ri-too-ri-lal-
lural!’ :

‘That cock won't fight, my pert miss,’ cried the
Dwarf ; and advancing a step nearer, actually aimed a
blow at her fair cheek with his wicked hand.

‘Fol-de-rol-liddle !’ cried the girl in an alarmed
tone as he did so.

The effect was magical—the blow fell short, but the
hand of the little man dropped lightly upon her arm,
and in so doing shook the bluebottle fly out upon the
floor. Hardly had he touched it when he assumed
his proper shape once again. Macklethorpe started
back at the sight ; magical power was suspended for
the moment before the force of natural instincts, and

F
66 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [.

 

with a mutual yell of fury the two Dwarfs rushed
savagely upon each other, striking right and left in
ungovernable rage. The sisters, with clasped hands,
stood watching the combat, almost insensible to the
loud cries of battle which were all the time filling the air
outside the castle. Both the little men fought des-
perately. Macklethorpe scratched, bit, and kicked
with an almost supernatural energy ; whilst Rindel-
grover, hopping about with marvellous agility, planted
some terrible blows upon the face of his enraged ad-
versary. The sisters would willingly have said the
magic words, had they not feared what the effect
might be upon their friend so long as he had not the
worst of the combat. At last, however, he had de-
cidedly the best of it, for a well-aimed blow taking
effect upon the nose of Macklethorpe, stretched him
upon the floor. Rindelgrover, without an instant’s
delay, leaped upon him-with a cry of triumph, when
at that very instant the doors of the drawing-room
were thrown violently open, and new characters ap-
peared upon the scene. Foremost among these were
two men of royal appearance, armed to the teeth, and
evidently just emerged from the fray. They led
between them, conquered and bound, none other than
the Giant Pattle-perry himself. It needed no wizard
to inform the sisters who were the victors who thus
appeared. The noble King of the Islands was on
one side, the young and handsome River King on
the other. With joyful and triumphant looks they
led their captive to the feet of the two Princesses, to
whom they made a lowly obeisance.

“Royal ladies !’ said the King of the Islands, who,
1.] THE LOST PRINCE. 67

 

being the eldest, was, according to the fashion of
those barbarous times, entitled to speak first: ‘we
bring you your vanquished enemy, and place his life
at your disposal,’

Both sisters clasped their hands in speechless
gratitude, and then, when they found their voices,
both exclaimed at once, ‘Oh, noble Kings! can you
make him restore our brother ?’

‘Dear ladies, said the River King, ‘that is
already done. Come forth, Prince Merry.’

Scarcely had he uttered the words, when a young
and singularly handsome youth came forward, in whom
the sisters both instinctively recognised their long-lost
brother, and immediately rushed to embrace him,
for which he appeared to be perfectly prepared.

‘Oh! where have you been all these long years ?”
they exclaimed both together, and fell to hugging
and kissing him again, before they could possibly re-
ceive an answer.

‘Let me explain to you what we have discovered,’
rejoined the King of the Islands, ‘and all the more
so because it may incline your tender hearts to show
some mercy to your unfortunate captive. It is true
that the Giant did what Rindelgrover has already told
you. He enticed the boy away from his nurse, prin-
cipally, I believe, for the sake of his diamond-set
girdle, and carried him off to his own country. How-
ever, when there, he conceived so great an affection for
the young Prince that he determined to adopt him as
his heir. Accordingly, he had him educated by the
best tutors he could procure, and has invariably

treated him with the greatest kindness, excepting
F2
68 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. fr.

 

always that his utmost endeavours have been em-
ployed to make the boy forget his family and his
native country. No wonder, then, that he attempted
to deceive you in every possible way, and to palm off
impostors upon you as your brother. He has failed,
however, and, moreover, the young Prince has by no
means forgotten his old home and relations. Here
he is safe and sound, and you will have the satisfac-
tion of restoring him to his and your anxious parents.
Now, what shall be done with the Robber-giant who
has caused all these troubles? We have taken him
entirely by surprise. The oppressed people of his
country received us gladly ; we have completely routed
and dispersed his army, most of whom have either
been ridden down by my white horsemen, or have
had their left eyes pecked out by the swan warriors
of my royal brother. In fact, the Giant is at your
mercy, and you have only to say the word and his
head shall be struck off immediately.’

‘Oh no!’ cried both the sisters simultaneously ;
and then Malvina continued: ‘We should be sorry
indeed to return evil for evil, especially as the Giant
has done us no harm in reality, and the joy of re-
covering our dear brother has effaced from our minds
the trouble we have endured. Let him live, provided
that he will take an oath never to interfere with our
father’s kingdom again or to carry off straggling
children, be they princes or peasants.’

At these words the Giant’s face, which had hither-
to been mightily downcast, lighted up with a sudden
joy.

‘Lovely and merciful ladies!’ he exclaimed, in a
1.] THE LOST PRINCE. | 69

 

deep but trembling voice, ‘I will swear by the Great
Giant Oath—by all that giants hold sacred, by any-
thing else you please—to be your faithful vassal and
slave to the end of my days, if you will but spare my
life. Your brother is safe and sound, and had I not
loved him as my own son, and intended to make him
my heir, he might have gone home long ago. Say,
Prince, do I not speak the truth ?’

‘It is quite true,’ said Prince Merry, in a voice of
singular sweetness, ‘that I have no recollection of
anything but kindness since I have been here, although
now that memory has been awakened and I recognise
my beloved sisters, I feel a sense of the cruel wrong
which has been done me in depriving me for so long
a time of their sweet society. But I give my voice
for mercy, and hope that we may henceforth all be
friends. Meanwhile, what are the little men doing?’

At these words everybody looked round at the
two Dwarfs, who had been forgotten during the above
conversation. Rindelgrover was still standing upon
his prostrate enemy, and giving from time to time a
triumphant stamp upon him which must have been
the reverse of agreeable. As soon as attention was
called to them, Macklethorpe, with a deep groan,
besought the Princesses to call off his adversary, and
they accordingly begged their little friend to spare his
fallen foe. Thus requested, the worthy Rindelgrover
desisted from his amusement, and the crestfallen Mac-
klethorpe arose, bruised and vanquished, and with the
breath nearly stamped out of his body. The Wood
Dwarf was at first inclined to claim him for a slave
as the reward for all he had done, but on its being put
70 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [.

 

to him forcibly by Pettina that he would in the long
run gain more by generosity, and that a slave who
detested him would be less useful than a friend
bound to him by ties of gratitude, he was gradually
brought round to that view of the case, and agreed
that his enemy should be spared and liberated, on
condition of owning himself inferior to his conqueror,
and binding himself never more to destroy the pigs
of the latter.

The rest of the story will not take long to tell.
The victorious army having feasted royally at the
Giant’s expense, prepared shortly afterwards for their
departure. Old Dame Skrinklegriggs, however, first
appeared upon the scene. Dreadfully afraid that her
impertinent language to the two Princesses would be
remembered against her, she endeavoured to atone for
it by the most abject servility and fawning adulation.
Throwing herself at the feet of the sisters, she ex-
claimed :

‘Oh, Royal Ladies—more lovely than ladies ever
were before, and more charming than any that shall
ever come after you. Beautiful creatures, have mercy
on an old servant who has only erred from zeal for
her old master! Let me kiss your feet and be your
slave for ever, and bear no malice against so humble
a being as Iam,

At these words the sisters smiled.

‘Be under no apprehension, old woman,’ said Mal-
vina. ‘We scarce remember your words, and have no
thought of injuring you. Still, we would advise you
and all others who hear us to remember that civility
1] THE LOST PRINCE. 71

costs nothing, and is far more becoming than harsh
and rude language.’

With these words she dismissed the old house-
keeper, who was overjoyed at having escaped so easily.
Then the whole party proceeded to leave the palace
on their way back to the old home of Prince Merry,
taking with them the Giant, to present as a prisoner
to the injured King and Queen, though they had no
doubt that these would ratify the sentence already
pronounced by their daughters.

It would be hopeless for me to attempt to describe
the entry into the Kingdom of the Flowery Meads, or
the meeting between the parents and their long-lost
son. Universal joy spread all over the kingdom, a
general holiday took place, and nobody did any work
for a month, which greatly interrupted the trade of
the country and so damaged its revenue that there
had to be new taxes the year after in order to make
up the deficiency. However, nobody cared for that
or for anything else, now that the Prince was back
again. The nursery-maid and soldier were not for-
gotten in the general happiness, but were set free
from their cage and told that they might now be
married as soon as they liked. But somehow or other,
nine years of each other's company had so altered
their views of matrimony as between themselves, that
they respectfully declined the offered boon, and pre-
ferred to take a separate course in their future lives.
There was marrying, however, at the Court, and that
before long. The King of the Islands proclaimed his
continued devotion to Malvina; the River King was
no less attached to Pettina, and the Princesses, swayed

 
42 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [I.

 

by emotions of mingled love and gratitude, consented
to share the fortunes of their royal suitors. Accord-
ingly, the weddings were celebrated upon the grandest
scale which you can imagine. The Giant Pattle-perry
was present, having received his pardon from the
King and Queen, and solemnly vowed himself the
vassal of the Kingdom of the Flowery Meads for ever
and a day.

You may well believe that Rindelgrover was not
absent from the ceremony, nor indeed from the ban-
quet afterwards. Upon that occasion many interesting
speeches were delivered, and more ale and wine con-
sumed than had ever been the case before in that
country. Everybody enjoyed themselves thoroughly,
and everything passed off remarkably well. Of course
Prince Merry was the hero of the evening. His
health was drunk with ‘nine times nine and one cheer
more,’ and in return he made a speech which delighted
everybody, though, for the matter of that, as every-
body was determined beforehand to be delighted, it
did not much signify what he said.,

It is needless to relate anything further of the
history of these good people. The King and Queen
passed the remainder of their days in great and un-
interrupted happiness. The worthy Rindelgrover was
always a welcome guest at Court, and much amused
the royal family by his eccentric observations and
curious ways. Sometimes Prince Merry wandered
' with him in the forest, over the animals of which he
held such authority. At the particular request of the
Prince he was induced to allow them to abandon the
somewhat monotonous chorus of ‘ Well done, Rindel-
1.1 THE LOST PRINCE. 73

 

grover!’ which he had imposed upon them as an ac-
knowledgment of his sovereignty, and after a while
he was persuaded to prefer a pony to a pig when in
want of equestrian exercise. Otherwise he remained
the same to the day of his death, if that day ever
arrived. Of that Ihave no certain information. I can
only tell you the legends of dwarfs and giants which
the Fairies tell me from time to time, and they gener-
ally like to leave off with the good people in the
story alive and happy. So let it be, then, with our
_ present tale. Ihave no reason to doubt that Prince
Merry, his sisters and their husbands, are at this
moment living, well and prosperous, nor have I any
reason to suppose the contrary of the conquered
Giant, or any other of the personages of whom I have
spoken. Let us suppose them so, at all events, and
having consoled ourselves with this supposition, bring
to a conclusion the wonderful history of Prince Merry
and his charming sisters.
74 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. (ir.

IT.

THE HISTORY OF A ROOR.

OF late years it has been the fashion for animals of
various sorts and sizes to relate their history for the
benefit of a curious world. I feel that I need no ex-
cuse for following an example which has been set by
many whose species entitles them to no more con-
sideration than my own, and who have possibly seen
less of stirring adventure than it has been my fate to
witness. And although I am only a bird, Ido not
see, for my own part, why birds have not as good a
right as anybody else to come before the reading
public. A horse is frequently termed a noble animal.
A dog is thought to have special claims upon the
sympathy of men; and both dogs and horses have
frequently thought it right and becoming to appear
in print. Nevertheless, I feel entitled to observe that
birds of my race are, in one respect at least, superior
to both dogs and horses. ‘These are, after all, the
obedient slaves of man. Trained to obey his will,
taught from earliest youth to acknowledge his superi-
ority, they pass their existence for the most part in
willing thraldom, ignorant of those free aspirations
and that untrammelled liberty of which I and my
feathered comrades can truly boast. Not that this is
I1.] THE HISTORY OF A ROOK. 75

 

equally applicable to all birds. The parrot, ignomi-
niously seated upon his perch, looks to man for his
daily pittance of food, screeches out that which they
suppose to be his gratitude in inharmonious accents,
and seeks no higher aim than occasionally to imitate
the tones and words of his enslavers. The starling,
the magpie, and other kindred birds, from time to time
own the dominion of man. The unhappy thrush too
often languishes in his wicker cage, suspended before
the cottage door of his unfeeling master; and even
the crafty jackdaw frequently becomes the pet and
plaything of the human race. But who ever heard of
a tame rook? My noble race loves, indeed, to domicile
itself near the haunts of men; but this is rather with
the object of proving to our young, by the force of
daily contrast, our innate and immense superiority
over the unfeathered bipeds who walk the earth from
which they cannot rise, and pass a wingless life in a
conceited belief in their own greatness. Often and
often have I seen them walking near, though not asa
rule beneath, my native rookery, and wondered to
myself how such tame crawling creatures could have
the arrogance to deem themselves ‘the lords of that
creation which contains so many nobler races. But
asmy intention to-day is not to point a moral, but to
relate a history, I will proceed at once to the per-
formance of my task.

I am a rook of old family. . All rooks are rooks of
old family. Unlike human beings, who depend upon
the preservation of written records, without which they
are not supposed among their fellows to have esta-
blished a claim to good family and high descent, we
76 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. {ir.

 

rooks, acting upon the glorious principle of universal
equality, recognise in our community the undoubted fact
that we all descend from common ancestors who existed
in remote antiquity, and we require no written proof to
establish the fact that we are all illustrious, and all of
high descent. I could tell you where I was born, aye,
to the very tree and to the very nest. I could de-
scribe the place which had the honour of witnessing my
birth. But I forbear. There may be those yet alive
to whom a minute description of the locality might be
painful, and no right-minded rook ever willingly gives
pain to anyone.

Yet as I recall the old familiar scene, I feel a
strange longing to make others acquainted with the
spot which I still love so dearly. How well do I re-
member the place! The group of waving elms in which
our nests were built, standing as they did at the extreme
end of a wood which joined close up to a farm-yard,
had the double advantage of proximity to rich corn-
fields on one side of the aforesaid wood, and pleasant
meadows, well stocked with friendly sheep, on the other.

There was the pond too, at the end of the farmyard
nearest the rookery, whereon sundry ducks quacked
a homely accompaniment to our domestic cawing, and
frantic hens cackled in agony over the supposed
danger of the little ducklings whom they had unwit-
tingly hatched. The orchard hard by, with its apple and
cherry trees laden with luxuriant fruit ; the large wal-
nut tree famous for its size and quantity of nuts, which
stood opposite the stable; the high old-fashioned
hedges which enclosed the meadows; the winding paths
cut through the home wood, and the trim old-fashioned
11.) THE HISTORY OF A ROOK. 77

 

garden, with its high brick wall. around it ;—all these
things come back to my memory, and seem to flit
before my aged eyes'as I muse over the early and
happy days of my youth. But stay: I have said
enough of a place which you, dear reader, cannot
identify, and to think of which, now that I am so far
from it, makes my beak feel dry and my eyes watery.
So I ruffle up my old feathers, give my tail a shake,
and taking in my claw the pen which my kind old
neighbour Owl has manufactured for me out of the
feather of a wood-pigeon’s wing, set myself to tell you
that which I have to relate.

This beak, which many years have hardened, was
soft and tender when its first infant effort chipped the
egg which contained my puny form. I cannot actu-
ally remember the event, but from what I have seen
in after years, I imagine that I must have presented a
somewhat ridiculous appearance when I first emerged
from the maternal shell. My first distinct recollection
is of the ousting from the nest of two little crea-
tures, brothers and sisters I suppose, I know not which,
on whom my mother had unfortunately trodden, and
the sending after them of an egg at which we little
ones had stared for some hours as at an object of im-
mense interest, but which the wiser instincts of my
mother discovered to be rotten.

There were three of us left, and certainly we had
nothing to complain of in our treatment. Never had
young rooks a more devoted mother, or a father who
better understood the duty of bringing home slugs
and other tender edibles to his as yet helpless off-
38 WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND, [it

 

spring. Well nurtured and cared for, we grew daily in
size, and improved in health and vigour.

Our naked forms became gradually covered with
protecting feathers, although it was some time before
they acquired that black and glossy appearance which
is so highly vaiued among rooks who value their per-
sonal beauty. As days rolled on, although we grew
bigger, our nest unfortunately did not follow our
example, and consequently that which had at first
seemed to us, as indeed it was, a spacious and com-
modious abode, began to afford scant accommodation
for our developing frames. In short, we were more
crowded than was at all pleasant, and I do not know
how we should have managed, had not our maternal
parent one day suggested that there was an outside
as well as an inside to every nest, and that we must
not confine ourselves entirely to the latter. Shecon-
veyed her meaning in a somewhat forcible manner,
pushing us all three bodily over the side of the nest,
and bidding us take the fresh air as best we could.

Trembling with fright, we sat shivering on the
nearest branches, our little hearts penetrated with the
most profound grief at that which appeared to us the
cruel and unnatural conduct of the mother in whose
love we had hitherto so implicitly trusted. Ah! we
did not know then, as I know well enough now, that
our parents are the best judges of what is good for us,
and that things which sometimes seem harsh and un-
just to us are really intended for our benefit, and are
in fact the very best things which could have hap-
pened to us. So indeed it was in this case. We
soon learned to balance ourselves on the branches
11] THE HISTORY OF A ROOK. 79

 

without fear of falling, then we found that we could
easily hop from twig to twig, and meanwhile the ex-
posure to the open air gave new strength and hardi-
hood to our bodies. Then, joy of joys, we awoke to
the knowledge of the great fact that we had wings!
Never shall I forget the moment when this first
dawned upon my infant mind! It was again through
the agency of my mother, who, after I had sat for a
day or two as near as I could to the nest (to which.
we were still allowed to return at meal-times and for
the night), flew quietly up to me one morning and de-
liberately pushed me off my perch. With a croak of
horror, down I fell, expecting nothing less than in-
stant destruction. Great, however, was my surprise
and delight to find myself most agreeably undeceived.
Guided by some natural instinct, I spread out my
wings, and immediately found that I had not only
arrested my fall by so doing, but that I was able to
flutter away to another branch without the slightest
difficulty, and could sustain myself in the air as well
as another bird. My brother and sister, having been
similarly treated by our mother, and with the same
result, were equally pleased with the discovery of
their new powers, and we all three felt as proud as
cock pheasants.

Day by day we made trial of our new wings, and
very shortly found that we could fly from tree to tree
with tolerable ease, and that a little more practice
and some additional strength would soon enable us to
take a longer and more daring flight. We warmly
thanked our beloved mother for having taught us that
great lesson of self-reliance which is so necessary for
80 WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND. [rt

 

a young rook or indeed for anybody else who hopes
to succeed in the world, and a new vista of joyous
and peaceful life seemed opening out before us. But
alas! it was rudely interrupted. This world is full of
cares and woes, and I have observed that oftentimes
when our happiness is the greatest, our hearts the
lightest, and our prospects apparently the best, mis-
fortune falls upon us, as if to prove to us the vanity
and instability of earthly happiness. So it was with
regard to the happy family to which I then belonged.

On a beautiful morning in the month of May, I
was surprised by a sudden commotion in the rookery.
Respectable middle-aged rooks, ordinarily accustomed
to wing their steady flight from field to field, and some
of whom had been recently engaged in the domestic
occupation consequent upon the nesting season,
suddenly rose on all sides high into the air, and
uttering shrill cries of affright and dismay, wheeled in
eddying circles far above the trees which composed
our rookery. At first I thought that the world had
gone mad that May morning, or that my elders were
indulging in some wild and extraordinary pastime as
yet unknown to the juvenile members of the society.
But before long I became painfully aware that the
movement of our fathers and mothers was caused by
their knowledge of the proximity of awful danger to
their young. <A loud stunning report deafened my
ears—a report which arose, as it seemed, from the
ground below the rookery, and was succeeded by a
redoubling of the cries of affright uttered by the parent
birds. Eagerly peering through the branches of the
tree in which I sat, I perceived three individuals
It] THE HISTORY OF A ROOK. 81

standing in the precincts of our sacred grove. One of
them carried in his hand a weapon which asI have since
discovered is familiarly known among men asa pea-
rifle. This person was evidently the chief of the
party, for one of the others carried his ammunition,
while the awful occupation of the third became only
too soon apparent. The gunner kept up a steady fire
against such of our youthful companions as exposed
their bodies to his aim, and when any ill-fated rook
dropped upon the ground, as, alas! was but too fre-
quently the case, this third man hastened to gather
the bleeding body of the victim, and placed it beneath
a tree, where before long a goodly array of murdered
victims lay side by side. For the first few moments,
while this continuous firing was going on, I hardly
realised its meaning, or the perils of my own position.
But my brother, and sister, and myself were seated
upon a bough near the maternal nest, and afforded
but too obvious an object to the eager marksman,
Ere long I perceived him standing beneath our very
tree, with his deadly weapon pointing directly up-
wards. Even yet, we none of us realised the danger-
ous position in which we were placed; but in another
- moment the awful sound rang in our ears, and we
heard the shrill whistle of a bullet passing close above
ourheads. Being still, however, unacquainted with
the nature of firearms, we remained still and silent,
whilst the marksman hastily reloaded, and again level-
led his piece. This time the bullet struck the branch on
which we were seated, almost severing it in two, and
causing such a vibraticn as seriously disturbed us.
We all cawed lustily, and slightly shifted our posi-
G
82 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [u.

 

 

tion, though even now we remained fully exposed to
view ; but at the third shot, the bullet passing beneath
me at a distance from my body, far too near to be
pleasant, penetrated my tail feathers, and went whist-
ling on in its upward journey. Being now thoroughly
alarmed, I awoke to the necessity of adopting some
measure to prevent greater damage to my sacred
person, and being (though I say it that shouldn’t)
a rook of wariness beyond my years, I determined
forthwith to seek shelter in our friendly nest. With-
out more ado, therefore, I hopped lightly to my refuge,
and with a croak of satisfaction ensconced myself in
the same place whence I had first seen the light of
day from the inside of my parent egg.

O why did not my dear relations share at once my
prudence and mysafety! With a courage more resolute
than wise, they maintained their position, and the very
next bullet, striking my brother in the wing, wrung
from him a moan of agony, and prevented his following
my example. MHorrified at the sound, I peered over
the nest to watch what would follow, and waited in
breathless expectation whilst the cruel enemy loaded
and fired again, and this time with but too true an
aim. The fatal bullet shot my brother full in the
breast, and passing through from breast to back, left
behind it only a lifeless carcase from which the bright
young life had passed away for ever. The body of
my innocent brother fell with a dull heavy thud upon
the ground beneath, and soon swelled the heap of
victims already collected by the attendant keeper.
My sister, now fully awakened to a sense of her
danger, hopped with trembling legs towards my place
IL] THE HISTORY OF A ROOK. 83

 

of safety, uttering a faint caw of complaint and alarm.
But before she reached the nest, another bullet, speed-
ing on its deadly errand, struck the bough imme-
diately beneath her, lacerated her right foot, and gave
a shock to her nervous system from which she never
afterwards entirely recovered. Happily, however, she
succeeded in scrambling over the sticks and twigs of
which our home was composed, and nestled down by
my side in a state of alarm and agitation such as I
have seldom or ever witnessed in a female rook.

Fortunately for us, there were so many of our
species sitting out upon the different trees of the
rookery, that the sportsman (if such a term can be
rightly applied to a cruel rook-killing monster) found
plenty of amusement without troubling us again, and
we crouched down without further molestation during
the rest of his stay, though our blood ran cold, and
our hearts beat faster, at every sound of his horrible
gun. But as all things in this world come to an end,
so did this attack upon our peaceful homes, and our
enemies at length retired, laden with the carcasses of
our unhappy relatives. I could not imagine at that
time the purpose for which the remains of our friends
were thus carried off. But a singular conversation
which I shortly afterwards overheard disclosed to
me the horrid truth, whilst at the same time it
afforded a notable example of the cringing and
sycophantic nature of the human race.

Not many days after the occurrence which I have
just related, a number of fiends in the shape of men,
armed, not with pea-rifles, but with ordinary shot-

guns, appeared in our luckless rookery, and opened a
G2
84. WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. pen

 

cruel and destructive fire upon our unhappy race.
Alas for the ruin and devastation which they spread
around! In vain did youthful rooks send forth their
wailing caw for pity and succour. In vain did the
agitated and miserable parents wheel high above the
heads of the gunners with plaintive and indignant
cries, protesting against the unjustifiable slaughter of
their young. They spoke to hearts harder than stone,
and to beings inaccessible to the cries alike of suffering
innocence and parental affection. By tens, aye, by
twenties, the youth, the flower of rookdom fell around,
and sadly were our numbers thinned by the continued
onslaught of our merciless foes. Wise by experience,
my sister and I at the first sound of the gun sought
shelter in our nest, and remained there until the last
of our enemies had departed.

It was on the afternoon of that same day that I,
deafened with the cannonading which had been going
on around us, and with a heart full of misery at the
undeserved misfortune that had fallen upon our race,
flew out from the rookery, and perched myself in the
thickest part of a large chestnut tree which stood at a
short distance from my home. From this post of
observation I saw two men approach, and soon dis-
covered that their purpose was to collect the bodies
of the slain. One of these men, whom the other ad-
dressed as ‘Jem,’ evidently filled the honourable posi-
tion of a gamekeeper. He had a black velveteen
coat on, and a gun in his hand, which he deposited at
the foot of my tree while performing the melancholy
business on which he had come, and his evident as-
sumption of superiority over his companion, together
11.] THE HISTORY OF A ROOK. 85

 

with the deferential bearing of the latter, sufficiently
indicated his official position. It was while they were
resting from their labours beneath the tree in which I
was perched, that the following conversation ensued.

‘A fine lot o’ young rooks, Jem, surelie, said the
other man.

‘They be, Bristow, that they be, was the reply ;
and presently, after a pause, ‘They tell me, Bristow,
that there’s many people as thinks a rook pie better
nor a pigeon pie. That can’t be, but I don’t know as
it’s a thing to be despised, after all is said and done,’

“Oh no,’ replied the other, ‘not noways to be de-
spised, but nothing like a pigeon pie, o’ course. Oh
no, oh no.’

“And,’ continued the keeper, ‘I don’t know but
what a rook pie, if the rooks is young, and the crust
made about right, very nigh comes up to a pigeon
pie after all.’

‘Sure it does,’ returned Bristow in meditative tone,
‘not so good as a pigeon pie, but very nigh it if rightly
made, as you say.’

In another minute the keeper continued: ‘And some
folks will tell you, and as far as my opinion goes they’re
in the right of it, that just at this season, when the
rooks is young and tender, a rook pie is quite as good
as a pigeon pie, after all.’

‘Very little difference, replied Bristow at once, ‘if
the birds is young and tender, rook pie or pigeon pie,
what’s the difference ?’

‘And for my part,’ added the keeper, ‘7 like a
rook pie better than what I do a pigeon pie, and that’s
the truth of it.’
86 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [11.

 

‘Oh yes,’ responded Bristow without a moment’s
hesitation, ‘better than any pigeon pie. Not a doubt
of it?

And so the conversation terminated. Though I
could not help being amused at the obsequious servility
of the cringing Bristow, this conversation explained
to me the cause of the murderous onslaught made
upon my hapless people, and revealed the fate which
was to befall their carcasses. Stripped of their black
and glossy feathers, they would doubtless be thrust
into a pie or pudding, to gratify the palates of their
greedy slaughterers, whom I devoutly hoped might
be choked in the operation of devouring them. This,
however, would after all be but a poor revenge for: us
survivors, and would not bring our lost ones back to
life again. I could here indulge in many moral reflec-
tions upon the cruelty of man, and the sufferings of
rooks and other birds and animals which he chooses
to regard as his lawful prey. But I prefer, and perhaps
my readers may agree with me, to quit a theme
which, as far as I am concerned, is fraught with
melancholy recollections, and pass on to other remi-
niscences of my eventful life.

Perhaps some of my readers will be surprised to
hear me use the word ‘eventful’ in connection with
the life of a rook. We are, I believe, for the most
part, regarded as dull, commonplace birds, whose
chief avocation is to rear and feed our young, to eat
grubs and insects by way of food, and to promote
the domestic felicity of mankind by cawing in a
homely manner around their mansions. This, how-
ever, is a grand mistake, though only one of the many
11.] THE HISTORY OF A ROOK. 87

 

misapprehensions into which man is led by his selfish
and overbearing vanity. The real truth is that the
world was made for rooks, and not for man, and that
although the greater strength and destructive skill of
the latter give him at the present moment an advan-
tage over our noble race, those who believe in the
great and immutable principles of justice cannot but
rest assured that this advantage is but of a temporary
character, and that hereafter the rights of rookdom
will be triumphantly vindicated, and servile man shall
bow and cringe before his feathered superiors. Even
now, unwittingly and unwillingly, they minister to our
necessities. Why do they plough the ground with so
much care save to expose to our hungry beaks the
animal food in which we delight? Why do they plant
trees whose maturity will not be witnessed by their
own eyes, but by those of the generations to come?
Is it not that we rooks may have places in which to
build our nests in safety? And do they not, more-
over, show us. constant marks of respect by planting
boys as guards of honour in their fields, who by shouts
of ‘away crow!’ by discharges of antiquated firearms
incapable of injuring anything but the gunner himself,
and by fantastic displays of strangely attired figures
on sticks, serve to show how much our presence is
feared, if not appreciated, by the human race?
Thoughts upon all these subjects have frequently
occupied my mind, and although my race may be
depressed at present, in the dim vista of the future I
picture to myself a free, a great, and a glorious rook-
dom. But to my story.

After the breeding season had been finished, and
88 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. {11.

 

the youth of our rookery (alas! sadly diminished in
numbers by the events which I have narrated) had
learnt to use their wings with tolerable facility, they
were required to make themselves perfect in flying
under the able tuition of several experienced rooks,
who held their classes in the immediate vicinity of the
rookery. There was the soaring class, the object of
which was to teach young rooks to fly as high as they
could, balancing themselves upon their wings like a
hawk at a distance from the earth which rendered them
secure from human attack. There was the wheeling
class, by which we were instructed to wheel about,
swing round shortly, and accommodate ourselves to the
necessities of a windy day. There was the vocal class,
instruction in which was generally carried on by an old
rook perched upona dead branch on the top of a tree,
whence he cawed vehemently to us youngsters seated
below. To this class I belonged, and it was there that
I acquired that clear and ringing caw for which I have
long been famous. Then there was the shifting class,
which taught us when flying steadily in our course, to
swerve hastily aside so as to avoid any danger from
below. And many other lessons did we learn during
the last weeks of our youthful rookery life. But the
time came when all these juvenile exercises termin-
ated, and we youngsters were sent abroad into the
wide world to get our own living.

Ah me! you children of human parents, who are
tended and cared for in early youth, whose growing
years are watched with affectionate solicitude by your
parents, who enjoy the blessings of maternal love, and
perhaps for much of your life are guided by the kind
11.] THE HISTORY OF A ROOK. 89

 

expression of a father’s will, little do ye know of the
loveless, uncertain career of a youthful rook. I do
not complain. Mine is not an envious nature. But
when I think of your condition and of my own, my
heart swells within my breast, my feathers ruffle, and
I feel as wicked as a carrion crow. Little of parental
care had I! A parting peck from my mother was all
the token of affection which I received on quitting
the scenes of my early youth. But my heart was
stout, my confidence great, my feathers glossy, my
beak yellow, and my spirit unsubdued ; so, with the
determination to do my duty as an honest rook, I left
the home of my ancestors, and went forth to do battle
with the world.

I fear I should but weary my readers, if I were
to chronicle the events of ordinary every-day rook-
life. They would not care to hear how I occupied my
time in searching for the food with which to support
my existence, in travelling with my comrades from
place to place, always, when it was possible, returning
to the same roosting-trees at night, and occasionally
in sitting upon favourite branches with clusters of
fellow-rooks, cawing to them and they to me in
friendly if not melodious accents. I prefer to pass on
to those occurrences of my life which may be considered
more than ordinary, and may perhaps interest or
amuse the thoughtful peruser of my history.

It was upon a bright morning in January that I
experienced my first real misfortune since quitting my
early home. I had been sitting for some time upon
the top of a high elm tree, cawing cheerfully to myself,
and looking down upon a world white with a frozen
90 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [ur.

 

mantle. The ground was covered with a thin coating
of snow, which had fallen during the night, and which
now crackled beneath the feet of the walkers with the
crispness of the frost. The sun was bright, and the
frost melted wherever his rays came full upon it, but
the air was cold, and apparently we were likely to
have a continuance of hard weather. I had been
musing over the various changes of temperature which
we rooks boldly encounter with precisely the same
clothing, whilst men and women, poor things, change
their garments according to the seasons, which to my
mind affords another evidence of their inferiority to
our noble race.

Whilst thinking over this, it came into my head
that there was one thing common to us all, namely,
hunger, and that this same feeling was gradually
stealing over me to such a degree as to make break-
fast a most desirable event in anticipation. With this
thought came another which somewhat troubled me.
Where and how should I find my breakfast on this
particular morning? The fields were hard with frost ;
no farm-yard was close at hand, and I hardly Rtew
where to look for food. Fortunately I recollected
that in flying over a neighbouring wood the day
before, I had observed a number of pheasants eagerly
feeding in a certain track which I knew I could easily
find again. I argued with myself that what a phea-
sant could eat would be equally wholesome for a
rook, and that the best course which I could pursue
would be to proceed at once to the spot. Accordingly
I shook my wings, rose from the tree, and with a
parting caw, sailed away through the cold air, gaining
additional appetite as I flew.
11.] THE HISTORY OF A ROOK. ot

 

I found the wood, and the track, without much
difficulty, and before settling down in it, took the
precaution of perching in the branches of a neighbour-
ing oak, in order to make sure that the coast was
clear. No human being was in sight; the pheasants
were feeding quietly in their accustomed place, and I
saw with delight that their food was maize, large,
delicious-looking grains of which lay plentifully scat-
tered upon the ground. As numerous cock pheasants
were making their breakfast near my tree, and I knew
cock pheasants to be birds who are occasionally of a
selfish nature, I deemed it best to alight at a respectful
distance from them, in order to avoid the possibility
of a quarrel. Accordingly, I flew some little way
along the track, and then settled upon a spot where
the maize was not so thickly scattered, but where
there was still an ample supply for my wants. Being
remarkably hungry that morning, I did not scruple to
feed heartily upon this wholesome food, and, hopping
along as I picked up the grain, I found myself near
the hedge which separated the wood from a field.
The maize appeared to have been strewn right up to
the hedge, and observing that there was plenty of it
at one particular spot, I hopped rapidly on thither.
What was my horror at hearing a sudden ‘click, and
almost before I heard it, to feel the snow-clad leaves
rise up beneath my feet and the sharp fangs of a steel
trap close around one of my unhappy legs! At the
same instant the horrible truth flashed upon me.
Either some poacher, or a rascally keeper who wished
to trap his master’s pheasants, had spread maize close
up to the hedge in order to entice the birds, and where
92 WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND. {ut

 

the maize was thickest had craftily placed a trap,
carefully concealed by dry leaves artfully laid upon it.
Miserable wretch that I was, I had unwarily hopped
upon this hidden engine of destruction, and in all
probability should pay the penalty with my life!

For the first moment or two I was so stupified by
the suddenness of the misfortune into which I had
fallen that I remained perfectly dumb. Then, as a
racking pain shot through my poor leg, I gave vent
to a caw of agony which attracted the attention of all
the birds near me. The hen pheasants began to
scurry away into the thick underwood, the cock birds
stared at me with amazement, let fall several unkind
remarks about thieves coming to no good, and stalked
slowly away from the place as if it was no business of
theirs at all. A blackbird or two answered my cries
with a sympathising chuckle, and a robin red-breast
calmly regarded me with a pitying eye from the twig
of a hazel-tree on which he was perched. But none
offered to help me—no kindly claw was outstretched
to aid—no pitying beak opened to comfort me, and,
to make matters worse, several jays came flying at

_once from other parts of the wood, screeching and
laughing over my head as if my agony was the best
joke in the world.

I had sense enough to know that it would be the
height of folly to continue to cry out, for I should by
this means certainly attract the attention of some
keeper or labourer in the fields, who might very
possibly put an end to my pain and my life together
if he found me in the trap. Therefore I tried to
bear the pain as well as I could, and waited perfectly
IL] THE HISTORY OF A ROOK. 93

 

quiet for at least half an hour. Then I thought
I could bear it no longer, and I began to peck the
trap with frantic energy, by which means I hurt
my own beak without doing the slightest good.
Luckily for me—if I can call that ‘luck’ which, after
all, was only a mitigation of a cruel misfortune, the
trap had sprung so quickly together, or I had trod so
lightly, that I was caught very little above the claw.
Had it been otherwise, indeed, and had I sunk so far
as to have been caught by the thigh, nothing could
have saved me from an agonising death, and this story
would never have been written. My leg, however,
just above the claw, was nearly cut in two, so you
may suppose that the pain was not slight. I was in
great doubt what to do, and in dreadful fear of what
might happen next, when I heard a little rustling
sound near me, and turning my head, perceived a
squirrel seated upon a branch of the tree above my
head. Uncertain of his intentions, I cast a piteous
look towards the little animal, but said nothing.
After a moment’s silence, however, he accosted me in
a friendly tone of voice.

‘Why, gossip rook,’ said he, ‘vou have fallen into
a scrape, I fear.’

‘Scrape, indeed, squirrel,’ cawed I sorrowfully,
‘and one that I know not how to get out of. Woe
betide the day that ever I saw this wood !’

‘Cheer up, friend, cheer up, replied Pug ; ‘the wood
is not a bad wood after all, if it were not for the
keepers and their traps, and the pheasants which
tempt the poachers. Can nothing be done to help
you?’
94. WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [i1.

 

These words of kindness cheered my failing heart
and revived my drooping courage. °

“Oh do come down and try, Pug,’ said I. ‘Look at
my poor leg and see what can be done!’

Thus implored, the worthy squirrel ran nimbly
down from his seat and squatted close to the trap
which he regarded closely.

‘Ugh!’ he exclaimed at last, ‘the nasty, cruel
thing! I wish the fellow who set it had his finger in
it, that I do! But, he added, ‘I fear there is only
one chance for you, friend rook. You must leave
your foot behind and lose a limb to save a life, as the
saying is.’

As he spoke, telling me in truth that which my
own instinct had already suggested to me as my only
chance of escape, I felt that he was right. The only
thing was, how could I bear the pain which it would
cost me to tear myself away from the fangs of the
cruel machine which held me like a vice?

Oh ye men and boys, whoever ye be, who chance
to read this history, just think for a moment of the
misery you inflict upon poor birds and beasts, if ye
set or allow to be set in your woods and shrubberies
these horrible steel traps. The traps you set for little
birds are of a different nature. Three bricks and a
tile, supported by.a small bit of stick which rests on
a twig balanced on another bit of stick thrust into
the ground, constitute a trap, into which, if a small
bird is fool enough to hop after your crumbs, he
richly deserves to be caught. Then, however, he has
no pain to endure except reflections upon his own
folly, until you sake him out and deal with him as
“1n] THE HISTORY OF A ROOK. 95

 

you will. Buta steel trap is a shameful and wicked
invention, for whatever animal it may be set, and one
the use of which nothing can justify. It is generally
set overnight, and after setting it, the trapper goes
quietly to his bed until the next morning. But the
unhappy animal who may chance to set his foot in
the trap, very likely within an hour or two of its
having been set, is kept in agony all night long—
perhaps far into the morning, until either death from
pain or exhaustion puts an end to his sufferings, or
his captor comes lazily along to see the result of his
trapping, and ruthlessly knocks the captive on the
head or wrings his neck. No bird or beast, say I,
can ever have done mankind harm enough to justify
such cruelty as is inflicted by these steel traps, and
you will all allow that I speak feelingly.

The squirrel had hardly given me his opinion,
when I heard the voice of a man calling to a dog on
the other side of the wood. Probably it was the
keeper, but whether it was.so or not, it warned me
that I had no time to lose, and that the effort for
freedom must be made. Accordingly I gave a tre-
mendous flutter and tried to rise from the ground.
Never shall I forget the intense agony of that moment.
It seemed as if all my limbs were being torn from
my body—my heart beat as if it would burst—a film
seemed to come over my eyes, and I as nearly as
possible fainted away.

“Courage, brave bird!’ shouted the excellent
squirrel in my ear; ‘one more such effort and you are
saved!’

I heard him, but could not muster strength for
96 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. (tr.

 

another attempt until a minute or two had elapsed.
Then, much nearer than before, the sounds of a
human voice reached my ear and awakened me to life
again, With another flutter I rose from the ground,
a sharp pang ran through my right leg right up into
my body, and my whole leg seemed to have been
left behind as I rose a free bird from the ground. It
was not so, however. My leg was left me, but my
foot, severed at the ankle, remained in the trap, and I
fluttered with only one foot on to the top of the
hedge, and sat there ready to die with pain and ex-
haustion. The good little squirrel watched me with
the greatest interest and gave me such words of com-
fort and encouragement as he had at his command. -
As, however, he did not feel over and above secure in
the immediate neighbourhood of man, he scuttled
away over the dry leaves as fast as he could when he
heard footsteps drawing near. From my post in the
hedge I observed a man in a black velveteen coat,
thick trowsers and gaiters, with a stick in his hand,
come slowly along the track, followed by a black re-
triever. He stopped when he came near the hedge
and stood looking at the trap which my struggles had
dragged from beneath the leaves.

‘Drat them poachers!’ he exclaimed after a
moment, ‘they’re at it again—that rascal Bailey set
that trap, Pll be bound. Pretty bold, too, right inside
our wood ;’ and stooping down he took the trap up in
his hand and examined it. ‘Well, he presently con-
tinued, ‘no pheasant for him this time, at all events.
Nothing but a rook’s foot, and that’s more than he'll
get,’ and so saying, he opened the teeth, let my poor foot
II] THE HISTORY OF A ROOK. 97

 

fall'on the ground, and taking the trap and the chain
by which it had been fastened in the ground, walked
away with them, muttering to himself as he went in a
manner by no means complimentary to the trap-
setter.

I felt a small glimmering of satisfaction when I
found that the fiend who had been the cause of my
misfortune had lost his trap, but this feeling was far
overbalanced by the sense of the great loss which I
had sustained. Not to dwell longer upon so painful
a subject, I may as well say, without further parti-
culars, that after I had rested for a time sufficient to
recover my strength, I betook myself to the abode of
one of those owls who had studied the art of surgery,
and having been successfully treated by this skilful
practitioner, was enabled, after a short time, to re-
sume my daily pursuits. But for a long while I felt
great inconvenience from the loss of my foot, and
even to this very day I find it wearisome work to be
‘obliged to stand on one leg continually. I declare it
is worse than always harping on one idea or invari-
ably telling the same story. I have known people
who do both the one and the other, but then ¢hey
have this advantage, that they only bore others,
whilst standing on one leg bores oneself to a great
extent.

After this adventure, you may well believe that I
was exceedingly careful in my search for food, and
indeed in all my proceedings. There was always a
good deal of danger to be apprehended from mankind
especially at particular seasons of the year. One of
the worst—perhaps I ought to say the very worst—of

H
98 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [iI.

 

these I found to be the time which ought to be the
happiest time for all created beings: I mean Christ-
mas-tide. It would be happy enough for birds and
beasts, in spite of occasional frost and snow, but for
the doings of the monster Man. On ‘Boxing Day,’
as they call it, and indeed on sundry other days, as far
as I could ever make out, half the men and boys run
about with guns in their hands, which they use in the
most reckless manner. I do not think that they pur-
sue any particular kind of game, but, as the saying is,
‘all is fish that comes to their net.’ I do not suppose
that a pheasant or a partridge would be spared by
these gunners if they came upon such birds in their
wanderings, but they are satisfied with birds of much
less importance. Sparrows, robins, tomtits, and all
such small fry they pursue with as much eagerness as
if their lives depended upon the success of their enter-
prise. A lark mounting slowly in the air with his joy-
ful song, affords a fair mark for their aim, though to kill
anything when flying is rather beyond their skill.
But a blackbird in a hawthorn hedge is a grand prize
for them, and I have seen the would-be sports-
men follow such a bird from hedge to hedge with
a perseverance and enthusiasm worthy of a better
cause. These people are a great nuisance to an
honest rook who has his living to get, and plenty to
do to find food for himself when the ground is covered
with frost and snow.

I remember on one occasion J had flown down with
some mates of mine into a sheep-fold, where the ani-
mals had trodden away the snow to a considerable
extent, and we thought we had a good chance of
a THE HISTORY OF A ROOK. 99

 

picking up something for dinner. There was a hedge
not far off, and along this same hedge came several
of these Christmas sportsmen, on the look-out for any-
thing they could find to shootat. Iwas pecking away
very quictly, with several of my companions near me,
and sheep scattered here and there all round about
us. Presently I thought I would perch on the back
of one of these animals, where there is frequently food
to be found, and I followed the bent of my inclination
in doing so.

Of course I fancied I was quite safe, although
the gunners were tolerably near. I knew that the
sheep would be my protector; and, moreover, the
weather was so intensely cold and my hunger so
great that I cared less for possible danger than perhaps
was prudent. Anyhow, neither I nor any rook in his
senses could have expected what followed. From the
hedge about thirty yards off, one of the younger of
the sportsmen took a deliberate pot-shot at me
whilst I sat on the top of the sheep! Fortunately
for me, this class of sportsmen are not addicted to
hitting the object at which they aim, or it might
have gone hard with me. He hit the sheep, however,
and the poor animal, astonished at this unexpected
treatment, bounded up so suddenly that I was forced
to fly off, which I did without delay. From the
gestures and voices of the men I found that the reck-
less youth who had fired at a bird among the sheep
got at least a good scolding for his pains, but this
would have availed me but littie had I been struck
by his shot as he intended.

The wood-pigeons were a source of considerable

H2
100 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [1I.

 

annoyance to us rooks at this time; and, for the
matter of that, they are so still. They have always
had a habit of flocking together in the winter time,
and descending in large flights upon the turnip-fields,
or anywhere else where they imagine that food is
to be foand. Ofcourse no one objects to a wood-
pigeon getting his own living like any other fellow.
‘Live and let live’ is an excellent old adage, and I
wouldbe the last rook in the world to caw a noteagainst
another bird of a different species who was only doing
his duty to himself and his family.

But it was not only always the case (asI have found
to my cost more than once) that in severe winters, when
the quantity of food was insufficient, the proceedings
of these wood-pigeons in congregating in such large
numbers, materially clashed with rook interests, but
they were also productive of very serious consequences.
Farmers and others, who could bear with equanimity
the presence of a few rooks, were inspired with fury
at the devastations of the other birds, and were more-
over possessed with the idea (which I am bound to own
that experience is said to have justified) that the flesh
of a wood-pigeon, roast or baked ina pie, was exceed-
ingly good eating. The result not unnaturally was
that wherever these birds assembled, we used to have
gunners after them, hiding behind hedges and stalk-
ing their victims over turnip-fields until no place was
safe. True, these men were generally a better class
of sportsmen than the Christmas gunners of whom I
have already made mention. They scorned small birds,
and were, moreover, not such despicably bad shots as
the others. Still, you know, a man with a gun in his
11.] . THE HISTORY OF A ROOK. IoT

 

hand is zever to be trusted. He may be of a naturally
cruel disposition and fond of killing for killing’s sake ;
he may be ignorant of the nature and character of
rooks ; he may be short-sighted, and mistake a rook,
flying in the sun, for a pigeon; he may be in want
of a bird to serve as a scarecrow, or indeed, even
if none of these things chance to be the case, he may
bea good shot, fond of showing his skill, and if a rook
or any other bird comes over him as a somewhat
difficult shot, he may fire upon it, in no particularly
cruel spirit, but just to try his skill, to ‘keep his hand
in,’ and to prove his prowess, without once casting a
thought to the pain and misery he may thus inflict
upon an innocent and friendly bird.

One of my dearest friends fell a victim toa sports-
man of this kind. He was returning home, I sup-
pose, from some shooting excursion, on a windy day,
and at the corner of an avenue of trees, a number of
rooks, among whom was my lamented Glossy-back,
whirled high in the air above his head with no suspicion
of evil for a moment. The man was, I suppose,
struck with the eccentric nature of their flight, and
the difficulty which it would present to an unskilful
sportsman, and desirous of indicating his own reputa-
tion (which nobody had attacked) fired right and left
at the poor birds without the slightest provocation,
and my poor Glossy-back and another fell wounded
to the ground. The hard-hearted monster who had per-
formed this barbarous deed merely smiled a self-satis-
fied smile at his success, and then walked calmly home-
wards without bestowing another look or thought upon
his unhappy victims. I happened myself to be among
102 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND, [u.

 

the crowd of rooks present at this sad occurrence.
We were all much frightened at the report of the
double shot, and when we ascertained the cause, and
the extent of our loss, we were terribly embittered
against the perpetrator of so nefarious a deed. Were
zo mortal men, then, to be trusted ? Could not evena
sportsman, returning from the pursuit of hislegitimate
prey, withhold himself from attacking birds who had
never harmed him, and whose flesh, at all events at
that particular season of the year, was neither deli-
cate to the palate nor nutritious to the internal orga-
nisation of man? Was there no remedy against these
hard-hearted oppressors ?

We ruffled our feathers with intense anger, and
cawed forth our indignation in vociferous tones upon
the neighbouring trees. But, after a short time, anger
against those who were beyond the reach of our puny
vengeance gave way to deep, heartfelt sorrow for the
lamented dead. I may as well tell you that Glossy-
back, the friend and companion of my middle-age,
had been a deservedly popular bird, of singular purity
and amiability of disposition, and in fact the very light
and life of the rookery to which I belonged. This
circumstance, coupled with the peculiarly tragic nature
of his fate, induced some of us to determine upon
giving him and his fellow-victim a public funeral.

The idea had hardly been broached before it was
eagerly accepted by the whole of rookdom. Hard
by the old rockery there was a large plantation,
which, from its shape and formation, I should imagine
to have been formerly a large pond or lake. It sloped
‘away downwards from each side, forming a large, long
I1.] THE HISTORY OF A ROOK. 103

 

basin, and tall trees grew in and around it, whilst the
brushwood was very slight and straggling. Here,
time out of mind, the bodies of the best and most
illustrious of our race had been deposited, when they
had been fortunate enough to die near home, and to
escape the worthless hands of those who would have
devoted their carcasses to the melancholy and de-
grading use of serving as a scarecrow to keep others
of their kind from the newly-sown corn.

It was in this sacred spot that we resolved to place
those two noble birds who had fallen in the manner
which I have related. No trouble or expense was to
be spared on this occasion. Rooks were summoned
from every quarter, and attended in large quantities:
crows came up from the sea-shore to join the troop of
mourners ; myriads of starlings assembled to witness
the sad ceremony, and even the saucy jackdaws sent
a strong contingent of their noisy tribe, who were
singularly quiet and well-behaved on the occasion.

But I think what touched us most was the presence
of the two old ravens who had inhabited the tall fir-
trees for many nesting seasons past, and were popularly
believed to be ‘as old as the hills.’ How old that may
be Ihave never been able to ascertain with accuracy,
but I have no doubt that, as a well-conducted and sober
raven is said to live for several centuries, and there are
grave doubts about the necessity of such a bird ever
dying at all save by mischance or murder, these two
birds were of a very great age indeed. Struck with
pleasure indeed were we rooks when the two venerable
creatures came to pay this tribute to departed - worth,
and sat with melancholy croak upon the dead branches
104. WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. {il

 

 

of an oak hard by. Then and there we vowed friend-
ship for the future with birds who had shown them-
selves to be of so feeling and kind-hearted a disposi-
tion, and every rook there present felt, I venture to
say, an increase of his own self-respect when he saw
how his race was honoured by this attention of the
larger and stronger bird whose claim to the chieftain-
ship of the rook and crow tribe has been generally
admitted. So pleased and proud are we all of a little
attention bestowed upon us by those of high birth and
position, and so much is Rank respected even in our
great Rook Republic.

When the mournful ceremony was concluded, and
we had all departed upon our several occupations, I
found myself overwhelmed with sadness on thinking
over the friend I had lost.. I could tell you many
incidents that had occurred to us both, but that, to
my mind, friendship is too sweet and solemn a thing
to parade before the public eye. Suffice it to say
that I was never so perfectly happy as when alone
with Glossy-back. He shared my joys; I poured out
my sorrows into his friendly ear; we had no secrets
from each other, and felt a mutual happiness in help-
ing each other in our journey through life. Oh, what
is there to equal such a friendship as this? I have
known and loved more than one female rook in my
time, and found pleasure in ladies’ society all my
life. But I have ever found them more or less fitful
and changeable, their tempers often uncertain and
variable, and their disposition generally capricious.
The longer I live the more I become convinced that
in a deep, true, heart-exchanging friendship with a
1] THE HISTORY OF A-ROOK. 105

rook of my own sex the only secure and trustworthy
happiness is to be found. Such indeed was my re-
lationship with my beloved Glossy-back, and to think
that the hearts which had been thus knitted together
by such a bond should have been disunited by the
cruel hand of death was a misery which made me
half inclined to terminate my own existence. No
more might J roam abroad with my friend of friends,
searching the fields together for our food, racing
together in the high wind, or sitting side by side upon
the tall elms, cawing over the state of the world in
general and rookdom in particular. No more might
we unfold to each other the legends of old days of
which educated rooks are so fond, or prophesy the
future history of the world which we saw daily pro-
gressing around us. All this was past, and on my
solitary roosting-tree that night I passed a miserable
time indeed, looking round with sleepless eyes for my
lost friend—alas! in vain! but hardly able to realise
that he was not by me, or falling asleep only to dream
of him and to wake again to the sad consciousness of
my terrible loss,

My life became a perfect blank. My food palled
upon me; I refused corn—neglected insects—grubs
became positively distasteful to my feeble appetite,
and I avoided the favourite feeding-grounds upon
which my beloved Glossy-back and I had so often
fed together. No occupation could take my thoughts
from the past; as for pleasure, I hated the very
word, and day succeeded day without bringing to
me any solace whatever. Under these distressing
circumstances my health visibly suffered. My eyes
106 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [it

 

ran with tears; I felt a constant chill through my
breast and under my wings, and several of my tail
feathers dropped out, to my great disfigurement.
My friends strove in vain to arouse me from this state
of dejection.

‘Bea rook!’ they cried; ‘it is unworthy for such
a bird as you are to give way in such a manner to
this inordinate affection and regret. Your friend—and
our friend—was indeed an estimable, nay, a noble
bird; but there are others who love you well—even
some connected with you by the ties of blood, which
he was not, and you owe it to them to give way no
longer.’

Alas! how little did these would-be comforters
know of the rook-heart and its workings! One
cannot love by law and rule, and I had given my
whole heart to Glossy-back, and could not replace
him at the bidding of duty, if duty it was to do so.
However, as I had my own reasons for not wishing
to die, to which consummation my grief was rapidly
tending, I at length made a gigantic effort, and so far
rallied from my grief as to seek consolation in litera-
ture. I had always been a great reader, and I found
it possible to resume some of those studies which in
my later years and during the period of my heart-
sufficing, life-engrossing friendship I had somewhat
neglected. I read Long-beak’s ‘ History of Rookdom,’
Grub-lover’s ‘Man a necessary Evil, Follow-plough’s
‘Grubs and how to get them,’ and a variety of pam-
phlets bearing on social questions, and exposing the
rapacity, tyranny, and cruelty of mankind, at the
same time pointing out the noble and excellent
I1.] THE HISTORY OF A ROOK. 107

 

qualities of rooks in general, and the happy future of
dominion over all other creatures which certainly
awaits our race. Then, wishing to vary my studies,
and to drown my still ever-present sorrow by greater
intellectual exertions, I became a contributor to the
‘Rookery Magazine ;’ and thus it was that I was
induced to write the account of my life and adventures
which J have just been able to give you.

If anything which I have said should prove bene-
ficial to young and inexperienced rooks, just about to
enter a life, of the sorrows and vicissitudes of which
they may gather some knowledge by my experience,
I shall be amply rewarded for the trouble which I
have taken; and I can only conclude by saying that
I hope they will be of opinion that in the course of
my passage through life I have done nothing to
deteriorate from the position which I occupy as a
rook of good family and position, nothing which could
lower the dignity of rookdom; above all, nothing
which might be deemed unworthy of the friend of
Glossy-back !
108 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [itn

 

ITI.

THE SILVER FAIRIES.

IT was an old piece of furniture—a very old piece of
furniture, and it stood in an old house, too. Nobody
knew when that house had been built, or how long it
had stood in the corner of the dark dismal London
street of which it was certainly the principal mansion.
You had only to look at it, however, to be certain
that it had occupied its position for a very great
number of years, and that if age could make houses
respectable, it had reached the very climax of respect-
ability. But, like other respectable creatures, it had
its reverses of fortune; and at the time of which we
write it was being ransacked and trodden down by a
motley tribe of persons hardly so respectable as itself,
who had come to witness that desecration of an
ancient building and dismemberment of its internal
arrangements which are popularly known as a sale by
auction. Ah! what a melancholy thing is that self-
same transaction, when household gods are scattered
to the winds, and objects which have been the
hallowed treasures of a happy home are exposed to
the gaze of the vulgar herd, and chaffered for by
greasy and disreputable bidders. Not that all bidders
are of necessity cither disreputable or greasy, but
that such characters not unfrequently preponderate
m1] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 109

 

at a metropolitan auction. Anyhow, there were
plenty of such present upon the occasion of the sale
of old Mr. Titledeeds’ effects in the aforesaid house,
and great was the competition for the books and
china sold that day. For Mr. Titledeeds, an eminent
lawyer lately deceased, had left behind him a repu-
tation which would have filled the house of any man
who left directions that his property should be dis-
posed of by auction. He was reputed to have been a
first-rate judge of china, and his collection of old books
and manuscripts was supposed to be of great value.
So when his legal subtlety failed any longer to defeat
the great suitor Death, and the final verdict had been
given against him, after vainly attempting to obtain
a decree of ‘ne exeat’ against his breath, he yielded
it up, without a ‘demurrer, and having nobody to
whom he cared to bequeath his property, directed
that everything should be sold by auction and the
proceeds divided among certain charities for which
he had never shown the least predilection or sympathy
during his lifetime. Then the undertaker executed
a writ of ‘habeas corpus’ upon his carcase, and Mr.
Titledeeds was known no more upon earth.

Hence it came to pass that the sale took place in
the old house, and that on the appointed day a numer-
ous crowd attended, and a brisk competition ensued
for the books and china. Nobody thought much of
the furniture.

The tables, of strange and antique fashion and of
unwieldy dimensions, fetched comparatively nothing.
The chairs went for an old song, and wardrobes, beds,
and chests of drawers realised but little. And when
Tyo WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND. [ru

 

the strange old piece of furniture the technical name
of which I am utterly unable to give, was put up by
the auctioneer, it attracted but very little attention.
It was made of oak, had strange knobs of brass
about it where you would least have expected them,
and it stood upon four large wooden claws by way of
feet. It opened towards you, and thus formed a flat
desk at which you could write, with large drawers
below, whilst the upper part opposite you as you sat
writing was a combination of drawers and pigeon-
holes more easy to be imagined than described.

I don’t know what possessed old Simon Ricketts
with an idea that he should like to become the owner
of this strange piece of furniture: nevertheless he had
the idea, and eventually, as will be seen, he had the
furniture too. Simon Ricketts was a milkman ina
large way of business, and as honest as milkmen
usually are. He never watered his milk when he
could supply his customers all round without it,
though as his customers were many, and his supply of
milk limited, he felt himself occasionally bound to
strain his conscience rather than disappoint his friends.
He paid his debts when he had money to do so, and
sought credit when he hadn’t. The latter, however,
was not his ordinary condition, for close attention to
business and a thrifty habit of life had enabled Simon
to save a little capital, and he was beginning to feel
rather above the world. Still, he had no idea of
giving up his trade, at which he still laboured, though
he allowed himself somewhat more holidays than when
his means were smaller and his labours necessarily
greater.
111.] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 111

 

It is well-known to persons who have considered
the subject that there is no question the correct
answer to which is more entirely a matter of opinion
than what is the best way to spend a holiday. Dif-
ferent people have different ideas upon this important
subject. Some like a trip to the sea-side. ‘A happy
day at Rosherville’ has its attractions for others ; while
there are those who firmly believe no other enjoy-
ment to be equal to that of sitting still with your
hands in your pockets, doing absolutely nothing.
None of these, however, would have suited Simon
Ricketts, whose great delight upon his leisure days
was to frequent public auctions. There was some-
thing fascinating to him in all the circumstances
attending such transactions. The pleasure and pri-
vilege of being able to walk into somebody else’s
house and wander all over it as if you were its master,
were highly valued by Simon, although enjoyed in
common with the rest of the world. He loved to look
over all the lots, to scrutinise the china as if he knew
all about it, to gaze upon the pictures as if he were
an artist born and bred, and to wonder what various
articles would fetch of the cost and value of which he
knew absolutely nothing. Then, the proceedings of
the auctioneer were of enormous interest to Simon,
and he would watch the biddings for each article as it
was put up, with a gravity and attention which one
would hardly have expected from a person in his con-
dition of life.

Upon this occasion Simon had been no less eager
and attentive than usual. He had seen the old port-
wine (so well known among those friends of the de-
112 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [ru

 

parted Titledeeds who had been fortunate enough to
be upon his dining-list) knocked down at fabulous
prices, he had marked the eager competition which
took place over rare bits of china, and probably had
been somewhat astonished at the sums which certain
lovers of the same had given for the specimens upon
which they had set their affections. Still Simon
Ricketts spoke never a word, and joined in no bidding,
for wine and china were not in his line of business,
and the money bid scemed to him altogether too much
for consumeable commodities or brittle articles. But
his ears pricked up when the auctioneer came to the
furniture.

By this time some of the most ardent bidders
had taken their departure, and among those -who
remained the competition appeared less earnest
and vehement. Therefore it was that the furniture
did not bring much, and, as I have already said,
tables went cheap, chairs fetched a mere nothing,
and much well-made furniture, being of a style and
pattern somewhat out of date, was sold at a bargain
for the purchaser. So convinced was shrewd
Simon of this fact, that he now and then ventured
upon a ‘bid’ for some article which appeared to him
to be going for a figure much below its real
value. But the professional brokers, among whom
were sundry men with hooked noses and keen eyes
who seemed to understand one another pretty well,
would not let Simon buy when he wished to do so.
They overbid him each time, and one or two of them
indulged in sarcastic observations upon his personal
appearance which were little calculated to flatter the
Itt] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 113

 

pride or self-respect of the worthy milkman. At last,
however, the old piece of furniture already mentioned
was put up, and pronounced at once by those present
to be an antiquated affair, only fit for the lumber-room.
Some one bid a sovereign, another followed with a bid
of five-and-twenty shillings, and amid some laughing
and chaffing, the article was run up tg thirty-seven
shiliings and sixpence, and the auctioneer, lifting his
hammer and his voice at the same time, exclaimed,

‘Now then, gentlemen, only thirty-seven shillings
offered for this valuable lot—why, its age surely en-
titles it to more respect—will zodody give me another
bid? Ifthere’s no advance I don’t dwell upon it.
No one else? Going! going!’

The hammer was upon the point of descending,
when a solemn voice exclaimed in deliberate tones,
‘Five pounds.’

Everybody pricked up his ears immediately, and
the knowing ones fancied fora moment that Simon
was either an artful old dodger who had discovered
the worth of the article in question to be greater than
was apparent to a casual observer, or that he was
some one so utterly unversed in the art of bidding at
auction sales, that he might serve as an object for
their amusement, and be run up a few pounds more
for an article to which he had taken a fancy. But
their second thoughts induced them to change their
minds, and one and all came to the conclusion that
the old man, being angry at having been outbidden
in all his previous attempts, had determined to run
them up by way of revenge, feeling sure that they
would outbid him now as before. From this point of

I
TI4 WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND. {rit.

 

view their obvious policy was to let the poor fellow
fall into his own trap, and become the possessor of the
lot in question for more than double the sum already
offered for it by themselves. So, being possessed by
this exceedingly clever idea, they forbore from bidding,
and joined in a hearty laugh when the old piece of
furniture was, presently knocked down to the worthy
milkman. This was exactly what Simon had ex-
pected and wished, and having thus obtained the
article upon which he had strangely set his heart, he
quietly withdrew from the auction room, and having
paid for his new possession, made the necessary ar-
rangements for its transfer to his own house.

Now the dwelling of Simon was in no very fash-
ionable situation, nor was it one in any way remark-
able for its size, architecture, or general convenience.
It was more than a cottage certainly, but hardly to
be called a large house, and, in fact, there was nothing
comfortable about it, outside or inside, excepting in
two rooms—the kitchen, and Simon’s own particular
Den, beyond that necessary apartment. Simon
Ricketts was a widower. Although he had had
several children born to him, none remained to cheer
his fireside or comfort his old age. His eldest boy had
gone to sea, and had not been heard of for many
years ; his only other son, who had been a railway sig-
nalman, had died, some said of a broken heart a few
months after his dismissal on account of an accident,
the occurrence of which had been attributed to his
wicked (though scarce. extraordinary) conduct in
going to sleep at his post, after having been thirty-six
hours on duty at a stretch. Simon’s daughters, too
1] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 115

 

had not been entirely satisfactory to him, having, with
one exception, declined to be reared, and resolutely
died in their infancy. The exception was Polly—
pretty Polly Ricketts, who might have been called ‘the
apple of her father’s eye,’ though somewhat of a crab-
apple, perhaps, from a natural sourness. of disposition,
until she mortally offended her affectionate parent,
first by running away with a journeyman baker, and
then by dying before there had been time for a family
reconciliation. However, as the baker made what
atonement he could by shortly afterwards dying also,
Simon bore up, and not only so, but took home the
infant daughter whom Polly left behind, and brought
her up in his own house.

At the time of our story, little Dorothy Matson—
or Dolly, as she was generally called—was about
seventeen years old, and, both in appearance and be-
haviour, did great credit to old Martha Pattison, who
had presided over Simon’s establishment, ever since
his wife’s death, in the capacity of housekeeper and
general manager of everything about the premises,
Simon himself excepted. Nobody could manage
him, and nobody tried to do so. He went his own
way, and liked everybody else to go theirs, as long
as they did not clash with him. Martha took care
not to do this, and as she was a near relation to
his departed wife, the arrangement answered well
enough both for father and daughter.

Old Simon was not a hard man to live with, pro-
vided nobody went into his Den, and this was what
nobody dared to do unless specially invited. The

Den, as I have already said, was entered by a door
I2
116 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. ful

 

from the kitchen, which was itself rather a large, com-
fortable room, and served Dolly and old Martha for
their usual sitting-room, the parlour being seldom
used, but kept as a state apartment into which
visitors out of the ordinary run might be shown.
Those who were fortunate, or unfortunate, enough to
have obtained access to Simon’s Den, wondered what
the old man could find therein to make him so fond
of it, as he certainly was. It was lighted by a sky-
light, and consequently somewhat ill-ventilated, as
the sky-lights of that locality were not constructed
with a view to the admission of air. It was there-
fore less pleasant to the nose than might otherwise
have been the case, whilst dust and dirt were by no
means strangers; and the broom of the housemaid
being almost unknown, there existed in every corner of
the little room that which worthy Martha designated
a ‘dreadful litter ;’ a carpet, or rather the pieces of
what had been a carpet in its earlier days, covered
the floor; the walls might, or might not, have been
originally papered, for age, dirt, and inattention had
combined to discolour them to a degree which made
it exccedingly difficult to determine what their condi-
tion might formerly have been. In short, the appear-
ance of the little room was not prepossessing to the
fastidious stranger, but to Simon Ricketts it was
Paradise. ‘The Den had one redeeming feature, the
chimney never smoked ; this, however, could not be
said of Simon, who loved to sit in his old arm-chair
opposite the bright little fire which Mrs. Pattison’s
care provided for him, and to find solace in his pipe
after his day’s work.
I11.] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 117

 

I am not sure but that it was during one of
these evening sittings that the idea came into his
head that there might with advantage be more fur-
niture in the Den. There was a large recess on one
side of the room, into which different boxes, packing-
cases, and various other articles had from time to time
been cast, but which could well have accommodated a
respectable piece of furniture. So thought Simon as
he sat and smoked ; and hence it probably arose that
when he entered the house in which the sale was going
on, and cast his eyes upon the article which forms the
subject of our story, the recess in his little Den rose
before his mind, and he began to think how the one
would fit into the other. Be this as it may, the
result was, as we have seen, that old Simon became
the purchaser of the piece of furniture, which was duly
conveyed to his house, and actually fitted into the
recess, after the boxes had been banished, just as if
it had been made for it.

Old Simon was uncommonly proud of his new
possession. As soon as it had been safely established
in the recess, and those who had brought it were well
out of the house, he placed himself in front of it and
gazed upon it for several minutes with an eye of affec-
tion ; then he proceeded to examine it more carefully
and thoroughly than he had been able to do at the
sale. It was certainly very substantially built, for in
the days when it had been made, people thought more
of strength and durability in their furniture, as well as
in their houses, than has since been the custom.
Perhaps they were more careless of elegance and
classical design than their successors; perhaps ma-
118 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND, — [itt

 

terials were cheaper and more plentiful with them
than with us; at any rate, such was the case, and the
result was, that Simon found himself the owner of a
piece of furniture which would last the length of his
own life and a good many more lives if it had decent
and proper treatment. He opened it with becoming
care, looked into every drawer and pigeon-hole, tapped
it in various places where he suspected the possible
existence of a secret recess, and felt more and more
satisfied with his wisdom in having made so good a
purchase.

‘Five pounds!’ he exclaimed to himself at the
conclusion of his investigation: ‘Five pounds! why,
the thing would have been cheap at double the money!
Sour my cream if I haven’t done well in buying it,
that I have!’

‘That you have !’. said a voice as Simon concluded
his sentence, and it so startled him that he jumped
back a yard and a half immediately in the greatest
astonishment.

Who had spoken, and from whom did the voice
proceed? He looked in front of him; he looked
behind ; he gazed up at the ceiling and then down
upon the floor ; he turned first to the right hand and
then to the left, but there was nothing whatever to be
seen. Yet most assuredly some one had spoken. It
could not be fancy, for he was not a fanciful man ; he
could scarcely attribute the sound to the echo, for
there was not, and never had been, any echo in that
room since it had first been built—could he have been
dreaming, and had he not really heard his own words
repeated ? Simon stood for several moments wrapt in
II] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 119

 

mingled astonishment and dread, but as he heard no
more and saw nothing, he gradually, though very un-
willingly, came to the conclusion that he must have
been mistaken, and that the voice had existed only in
his imagination. However, he felt somewhat less at
his ease for the next few minutes, and during the rest
of the afternoon was almost nervous—a thing which
he had never been before in all his life. He caught
himself looking sharply round over his shoulder now
and then, he knew not why, and felt a coldness about
the region of the heart which was not usual. Still,
nothing happened to alarm him ; he took his tea with
Martha Pattison and Dolly in the kitchen, as was com-
monly his practice, and afterwards retreated again to
his Den, seated himself in his arm-chair by the fire,
lighted his pipe, and began to enjoy himself as an
Englishman anda milkman might fairly do. He had
not half finished his enjoyment or his pipe, but was
proceeding to his entire satisfaction with both, when a
strange and novel occurrence turned the whole current
of his thoughts and filled him with the most profound
astonishment. He had been pondering over cows and
calves, cream and milk, curds and whey, and every-
thing connected with the honourable trade of which
he had so long been the ornament in that locality.
But all such ideas were entirely driven out of his head
by the events which suddenly took place.

There was a strange creaking within his new pur-
chase, as if it was greatly troubled in its internal
arrangements, and could by no means compose itself
into that state of tranquillity which befits an ordinary
article of household furniture. When this creaking
120 WiéTISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [uur.

(which first attracted Simon’s attention) had continued
for a short time, the front part of the piece of furniture
deliberately opened itself, just as if it had been un-
fastened by an invisible hand. Immediately afterwards,
a low, sweet strain of music broke upon the astonished
ears of the old milkman, and from the pigeon-holes
(as it seemed to him) there issued a variety of little
figures of the most extraordinary character. They
were all apparently made of frosted silver, or clad in
garments of that metal, which fitted so closely to
their bodies as to give the latter the appearance of
being really made of the same. As nearly as Simon
could judge, his visitors averaged from six to eight
inches in height ; their figures were all excellently well
proportioned ; they wore hats of varied and fantastic
shape upon their heads, but all of silver also, and the
beauty of their general dress and appearance was
perfectly marvellous .to behold. When as many as
twenty or thirty of these little creatures had come
down upon the desk which was formed by the open-
ing of the front of their abode, the music struck up a
more lively air, and they began to dance.

Simon knew very little about dancing, but he had
seen various shows perambulating the streets, in which
puppets hopped and skipped about, to the great
amusement of children whose parents could be
prevailed upon to allow the said shows to stop before
their windows. But no dolls of this kind that Simon
had ever seen could dance like the little figures now
before him. They moved lightly, nimbly, and in
perfect time with the music; they twisted themselves
about in the strangest and most fantastic attitudes,
I1.J THE SILVER FAIRIES. 121

 

but always gracefully, so that it was impossible not to
admire them even in their most grotesque postures,
The music varied too, in a manner which enabled the
performers to exhibit their powers to perfection. Now
it was slow and solemn, and the movements followed
it faithfully, everyone of them displaying a mixture
of dignity and graceful action very pleasant to behold;
anon, when the tune was more lively, their motions
corresponded with the change, and as it became
faster still, more and more animated was the perform-
ance of the dancers.

Simon Ricketts, as may be well supposed, gazed
upon the scene before him with the greatest astonish-
ment. He had let his pipe fall from his mouth, and
leant forward in his arm-chair, with his hands on his
knees, staring forward at the strange proceedings
which were taking place, and keeping his eyes firmly
riveted on the wonderful little beings who had so
unexpectedly favoured him with a visit. Like every-
one else, Simon had certainly heard of fairies, but his
knowledge of them was but very limited, as his life
had been one of too practical a character to admit of
much enquiry into the existence and habits of such
strange beings, and his education had been too much
neglected to allow of his having read or studied much,
even upon such an important subject. He was very
certain, however, that those upon whom he now gazed
were no ordinary, every-day creatures, and after the
first moment of wonder had passed, the thought
crossed his mind that his new purchase might, after
all, turn out to have been dear at the money. Suppose
it was, as seemed beyond the possibility of a doubt
122 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. (ui.

to be the case, haunted by beings who were more than
mortal, how could he tell whether they would be
friendly or the reverse to the man who had brought
them and their abode from a place to which they were
very probably bound by the strong ties of old associa-
tion? For all he knew, they might bitterly resent
their removal, and visit the consequences upon his
devoted head.

Simon was not left long in doubt upon the ques-
tion which he thus asked himself with some trepida-
tion. After their dance had continued for a short
time, the music suddenly ceased, when the little
figures ranged themselves on each side of the plateau
on which they had been performing, and bowed with
deep and courteous respect as another figure, very
little larger than the biggest of themselves, emerged
from the centre pigeon-hole, walked calmly and
deliberately down their ranks, carelessly nodding its
head right and Icft, until it reached the end of the
desk, when it gave a slight cough, cleared its throat,
and was evidently about to address the wonder-struck
Simon. This figure was clad, like the rest, entirely in
frosted silver, and was only to be distinguished from
the others by the circumstance that the cap which it
wore upon its head was circled by a broad band of
pure gold. Its demeanour was graceful and dignified,
and as its dress gave no particular indication of its
sex, Simon marvelled whether it was male or female,
until it opened its mouth, when the tones of its voice
proved to be far softer and sweeter than those which
commonly fall to the. let of the rougher portion of
created beings. It was evident at once to the old
ay

 

 

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SAPP eee

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SILVER FAIRIES

THE
III.] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 123

 

milkman that a Fairy Queen of some sort or other
was before him, and he prepared to listen with respect-
ful attention to the communication which she was
apparently about to make.

‘Simon Ricketts!’ she exclaimed, upon which
Simon, confused and startled at the somewhat abrupt
manner in which the words were uttered, mechanically
continued the description of himself as he had seen
it upon some parish list: ‘Milkman—23 Ebenezer
Street—South Road London,—that’s me!’ he said, as
if to assure himself and his visitor of his identity.

The Fairy took no notice of the interruption, but
again pronounced the good man’s name in a clear and
emphatic tone of voice.

‘Simon Ricketts! you have fallen in with a piece
of good luck, if you only know how to turn it to
proper advantage. The old piece of furniture which
you bought at the auction has long been the home of
my people, the Silver Fairies ; we have occupied it for
many years, and have no desire to leave it. It is our
desire and our habit to assist and bring good-fortune
to the families which, from time to time, become the
owners of this precious possession. We do not wish
to alter our custom in this respect; you and your
family will receive the full benefit of our residence
within your house, if you treat us with proper respect
and consideration ; and indeed it is not much that we
require of you. Only let us remain quietly where we
are, and do not move our home again if you can
possibly help it. Whilst we are here, do not let our
ears be offended by any bad language, and let not
anything dishonest or evil be discussed or performed
124 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND, ~- {tt

 

in our presence. If you only observe these conditions,
you will find the result greatly to your advantage.
We will afford you information upon any subject you
may desire, we will forward your views, for yourself
and relations, in any manner you wish, and we will
give you our very best advice whenever ysu shall
think fit to ask it. I hope you will be of opinion that
these conditions are as favourable as you could have
expected, and that you will readily fall in with our
views upon the subject.’

Here the Fairy stopped, and Simon, as he after-
wards remarked, felt so flabbergasted, that for a
moment or two he could not find his tongue, and
therefore remained silent. Presently, however, he
somewhat regained his composure, and, as politeness
and self-interest both required, made answer to the
Silver Lady as well as he could, at the same time
scratching his head as if to assist his ideas.

‘I bean’t no scholard, marm,’ he said, ‘nor I don’t
know werry well how I ought to speak to sich as you.
But if so be as you means well to I, then I means well
to you, and there an’t no call to say more as I knows
on.’ With this answer Simon contented himself, and
waited to see if his visitor would be satisfied.

Apparently she was so, for with a pleasant smile
and a laugh which you might fairly call silvery, she
said, ‘I think we understand one another, good Simon.
Depend upon it I shall keep my part of the bargain,
and mind you do the same. Now, is there anything
you want to know, or any service I can render you,
before retiring for the night ?’

Simon scratched his head again, and then said
an] THE SILVER FAIRIES, 125

 

solemnly: ‘If I bean’t too bold: an’t you werry
cramped in that there old consarn, and if so be as
you know so much and can move about so uncommon
nicely, why don’t you take your pleasure over the
whole place instead of boxing yourselves up in a
prison like ?’

The fairy smiled at this question, but less
pleasantly than before. ‘Simon,’ she replied, ‘“ mind
your own business” is a very good rule, and one to
which I should strongly advise you to adhere if you
mean to do well. Fairies are governed by laws
which mortals cannot understand and which it would
be impossible for me to explain to you. Moreover,
we have a great dislike to being asked questions
about ourselves, and invariably refuse to answer.
When I asked you just now if there was anything
you wanted to know, I referred entirely to matters
concerning your own welfare and happiness, upon
which I should have been happy to have enlightened
you. But, since you have nothing to ask, I will stay
here no longer. I may as well tell you, by the bye,
the manner in which, during my residence here, you
can summon me if you should at any time require my
assistance. You must be alone—or at least have no
more than one other person, and that a relation—with
you, and you must not call upon me before evening,
or later than four o’clock in the morning. When you
want me, open the piece of furniture, tap three times
upon the desk and pronounce the word ‘ chuck-a-
chuck’ as distinctly as you can. Either I or one of
my attendant fairies will certainly respond to the call
if adjured by this mystic expression. And now, fare-
126 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. (rt.

 

well for the night.’ So saying, the fairy kissed her hand
gracefully to the old milkman, walked back through
the ranks of her followers to the centre pigeon-hole,
entered it, and disappeared from sight.

The other fairies speedily followed the example
of their queen, all making friendly and respectful
bows to the mortal before they retired for the night.
When they had all re-entered their pigeon-holes, the
desk slowly shut itself up again, and the old piece of
furniture resumed its ordinary appearance of quiet
though quaint respectability.

When Simon Ricketts found himself alone again
he pondered deeply over the scene which had just
passed before his eyes, and the words to. which his
wondering ears had listened. This was the most ex-
traordinary thing that had ever happened to him in
the whole course of his existence. He had seen, in
his time, many curious things and had known of
many queer-looking and strangely-fashioned articles
of furniture, but never had he before encountered one
which concealed within itself such marvellous inhabi-
tants, nor had he ever believed that such beings as
those whom he had that day seen were really the
occupants of any place accessible to mortal men.
But Simon had always been accustomed to believe
his own eyes, and, this being the case, the fact of the
existence of the Silver Fairies was no longer a matter
of doubt with him. Moreover, being an individual of
a practical turn of mind, he at once determined to
take what advantage he could of their presence in his
house. That presence might certainly be turned to
good account. There was no reason to doubt the
11.] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 127

 

ability, and he had been assured by herself of the
goodwill of the Fairy Queen to be of service to those
with whom her people resided, and the only question
in Simon’s mind was as to the particular manner in
which that service could in his case be best and most
efficiently rendered. Over this point he pondered for
some time, until it occurred to him that the best
thing he could do was to go to bed and sleep over it
before coming to any decision. Accordingly, he
retired to rest, as the saying is; but alas! there was
neither rest nor sleep for worthy Simon that night.
Never was mortal milkman in so sleepless a condition.
As he lay awake, the events of the evening rose up
again and again before him, and the more he closed
his eyes the less could he find that oblivion which he
would gladly have welcomed. He tossed and turned
about, but all to no purpose, the fairy forms still
flitted before his vision, the voice of the Fairy Queen
still sounded in his ears, and sleep was simply impos-
sible. At last, indeed, he went off into a species of
doze, during which he dreamed on the same subject,
and awoke with a start, having in his dreams seen at
least fifty old pieces of furniture from which emerged
hundreds of Silver Fairies, who instantly turned -into
cats and began lapping up all his fresh cream.
Aroused by this singularly unpleasant vision,
Simon slept no more that night, and accordingly felt
somewhat tired and unfit for business when the arrival
of morning once more awakened his household. He
said not one word to Dolly or Mrs. Pattison upon the
subject of his extraordinary visitors; but during the
whole of that day was remarkably silent and reserved
128 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND, [rit.

 

deeply musing over what had occurred. Towards
evening, however, he had pretty well made up his
mind that some further steps should be taken in order
to realise the advantages promised by the Silver
Fairy’s residence in his house. So, after much consi-
deration, he joined his granddaughter and housekeeper
in the kitchen, and informed them of what had taken
place, to which piece of news the former responded by
opening her eyes very wide, whilst the latter inter-
rupted the narrator more than once by exclamations
of ‘My Goodness!’ ‘ Well, I never!’ and evinced the
greatest surprise and astonishment, which was not un-
natural, as Martha Pattison was a plain and homely
woman, eminently useful in her sphere of drudgery,
but ignorant altogether of fairies and fairyland, having
got on perfectly well all her life without either.
When the first moments of wonder were over, and
Simon had answered, as well as he could, all the
questions which were put to him, he solemnly asked
the advice of the two women as to the best means of
profiting by the presence and goodwill of the Silver
Fairies. Upon this point neither of them seemed to
have any very definite idea. One thing was very
clear. They would certainly be better off in the way
of worldly wealth than they had hitherto been. Upon
this they were all agreed. Simon, as I have already
said, was a well-to-do man; his house was his own,
so were his cows, and he had a bit of money put by
for a rainy day, as he was wont to say. But nobody
yet, that I ever knew, was so well off that he did not
think it would be very nice to be a little more so, and
although I wish I could have told you that the ladies
1il.] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 129

 

of the family. took a higher and nobler view, and
wished they might all be made better instead of
richer, which would have-been a very proper and
praiseworthy proceeding on-their part, yet the truth
must be told; and the truth was that the council
of three all agreed, first and foremost, that they would
certainly ask the fairies to improve their position in
the way of worldly substance. >

After all, there was nothing very wrong or very
extraordinary in such a wish. No one who has ever
‘kept house’ can be unaware of the fact that bills are
things which increase upon you as time goes on, and
that one never has quite enough money to settle them
without inconvenience. Rates and taxes, too, have an
awkward habit of requiring to be paid just when you
want to do something else with the cash you happen
to be possessed of, and numerous little expenses are
always coming upon you when you least expect them.
Therefore I hold it to have been not only far from
unreasonable, but exceedingly natural, that the object
of getting more money should have been one of the
first that presented itself to the minds of our friends
as desirable of accomplishment.

Even Dolly fell in with this view when seriously
put before her by the two elder members of the family
conclave, although at first her ideas had rather flown
in another direction, and she had imagined her grand-
father free from the rheumatics of which he had so
often complained of late, Martha relieved of a certain
lowness of spirits on which she was wont to dwell much
at times, and herself—but I don’t think Dolly had
arrived at imagining or wishing anything for herself

K
130 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [I11.

 

before the graver and sterner views of the others had
been asserted and established as indisputably correct.

Money—more money—-was the first and great
advantage to be desired from the Silver Fairy’s visit.
Next came the question, on what scale would she
be likely to enrich the family she had thus honoured
with her presence? Then came before the eyes of the
worthy people visions of the abolition of certain petty
economies in their household arrangements which had
always been practised but which might be suffered to
pass away without regret.

There might certainly henceforth (Gf the Fairy
were half a Fairy) be meat for dinner every day; the
‘appearance of pudding need not be restricted to
Sundays and High Holidays, and Martha might be
less chary of the tea when the hour arrived for par-
taking of that precious beverage. Sundry old and
dilapidated articles of furniture might be replaced with
new, provided always that the liberality of the Silver
Queen sufficed for such extravagance, and I am not
sure that the idea did not flit before the minds of the
female members of the council, that the papering of
one or more of the rooms in the house might possibly
be within their reach.

It was abundantly clear, however, that it would be
worse than useless to make any definite plans as to the
appropriation of the expected addition to their wealth
until the amount of such addition had been safely as-
certained, and the three accordingly resolved that the
first step to be taken was to bring this to a test.
They therefore determined to follow the directions
given by the Fairy, and having waited until it was

 
IIl.] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 131

 

late enough to be undoubtedly evening, they entered
Simon’s den in a state of nervous anxiety bordering
upon fear.

Here, however, the worthy man recollected that
only one person, if any, besides himself, was to be
present when he summoned his mysterious visitor, and
that person must be a relative. Old Martha stoutly in-
sisted upon it that she was quite sufficiently a relative
to be admitted into the category of persons qualified
under the Fairy’s rule. She maintained that the rela-
tives of aman’s wife were a man’s own relatives, because
a man and his wife were one, and it was wicked to main-
tain the contrary. Moreover, she alleged that her years
(though not so many, perhaps, as some people might
fancy) and experience made her a more fitting person
than Dolly to be present upon such a solemn occasion,
and that the latter might find the scene too much for
her. In short, Mrs. Pattison pressed the point so warmly,
and Dolly was so yielding and sweet-tempered about
it, that the old lady had her own way, and entered the
den with Simon, while Dolly remained in the kitchen
with only just one little sigh of disappointment.

When the door had been shut and there was no
longer any reason for delay, the milkman slowly and
reverently approached the old piece of furniture, and
opened it as he had been directed; then he gave three
taps upon the desk, slowly and carefully, at the same
time pronouncing the mystic word ‘chuck-a-chuck’
as distinctly as he was able. But no result followed.
All was still and silent save the old clock ticking on
the wall, and there was no sign whatever of the exist-
ence of anything out of the common way. Again

K2
132 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [ua

and again did Simon knock and repeat the word, but
nothing happened, and he stood aghast for a moment.
Then he turned suddenly to his companion.

‘Martha Pattison, he said, ‘there is something
wrong here. Hap you bean’t a relation after all!’

‘Not a relation, good man!’ replied that worthy
woman in an offended tone: ‘Lauk-a-mercy! who
could go for to say so! No, no, Simon, chaz ain’t the
reason, you may depend upon ’t. I bean’t so sure
about this here Fairy of yours, J bean’t ! Now, wasn’t
you a trying the old Hollands last night, good man?
Just say—wasn’t you a doing of it? ’Twouldn’t
no hows amaze me if that was how you come for to
see Fairies, and there ain’t none here after all! A pack
of nonsense you and your Fairies !’

‘Hold your tongue, Martha Pattison!’ sternly
answered Simon ; ‘this ain’t no place nor no time for
your tantrums. Tis pjain to me these Fairies don’t
hold a man’s wife’s relations to be the same as his
own, and so ’tis Dolly we must have here along
with I.’

‘A man’s wife’s relations not his own!’ retorted
the angry Martha ; ‘who dares to say such athing? If
that’s their ways, drat the Fairies, say I—ah! ah!’
and here the good woman broke off into a scream of
pain, and began violently rubbing her leg. ‘ Lack-a-
daisy me!’ she said, ‘something give me such a
terrible pinch, sure-ly—oh dear! oh dear! I don’t
want no more of this, not no ways ;’ and so saying she
turned her back upon the old piece of furniture and
made the best of her way out of the room, muttering
to herself about fairies and demons in a most dis-
ut] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 133

 

respectful manner, and ever and anon rubbing her leg
again as if to get rid of the effects of the mysterious
but no less painful pinch.

Then Simon, feeling sure that he was right as to
the reason why his first summons had met with no
response, called Dolly, and the maiden, nothing loth,
came into the den and joined her grandfather. The
latter now once more approached the piece of furni-
ture, again tapped deliberately three times upon the
desk, and said in as clear and distinct a tone of voice
as he could manage, ‘ Chuck-a-chuck!’ The effect was
instantaneous. At the mouth of the centre pigeon-
hole the Silver Fairy Queen appeared, so suddenly
and quickly that both Simon and his granddaughter
started back half afraid. The Fairy smiled a pleasant
smile upon them, which greatly reassured their doubt-
ing hearts, and at once spoke in a sweet and kindly
voice. ‘What want you, good Simon, and you, my
tender maiden, that you thus summon the Silver
Fairy ?’

Now, although the two mortals knew perfectly
well what they wanted and why they had summoned
the Fairy, neither of them exactly liked to answer.
Dolly, for her part, felt that it was her grandfather's
and not her place to speak, seeing that he, as is not
unusual with grandfathers, was much older and more
experienced than his granddaughter. Simon himself,
however, felt some strange kind of compunction at
naming such things as money and gold to a being so
evidently superior as she who stood before him, and
felt quite ashamed and dumb-foundered at having to
speak. So, for several moments both of the pair
134 WAISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND, [ut

remained silent, looking alternately at the Fairy Queen
and at each other without finding words to speak.
Presently the Silver Fairy smiled again, and stamped
her foot with just a /zté/e impatience in the gesture.

“Come, good people,’ she said, ‘do not keep me
waiting here all day. You cannot have summoned me
without wanting something, and that something you
are not at all likely to get unless you can make up
your minds to ask for it!’

Then Simon nudged Dolly, and whispered to her
to speak, and Dolly blushed and said, ‘Oh no! grand-
father, you speak!’ and a fear came over Simon which
made it more difficult than ever for him to find his
voice, so he whispered again, ‘Go on, Dolly, speak up,
wench, I tell ye!’

Upon this Dolly trembled and blushed, and
blushed and trembled again, and then made a low
curtsey to the Fairy and said ina meek voice: ‘ Please,
my lady, grandfather, and Martha, and I—if we might
make so bold—we all thought—we all wanted—if you
would be so kind—-if we could have it—if it might be
done—times are so bad, and there’s so much to pay
for—— How long Dolly would have gone on stam-
mering out these disjointed sentences will never be
known, for when she had got thus far, the Silver Fairy
interrupted her with these words:

‘You need say no more, my little maiden. I see
what it is you have been told to ask for ; the old, old
story. Your grandfather would be richer than he is—-
is not that the truth ?’

Dolly could only curtsey again, but Simon who
was by this time re-assured, especially as the Fairy
IIL] THE SILVER FAIRIES, 135

 

had so readily understood what was the object of his
desires, now took part in the conversation.

‘Sure-ly that’s what it is, he said. ‘We don’t
want nothing out of the way, Marm, so to speak ; only
if so be as you caz make things a bit more easy and
comfortable, why it do seem as if we might as well
speak up for to have it done. There’s a many ex-
penses in a business like mine, and folks is terrible par-
ticlar about their milk now-a-days, they is. Cows be
uncertain animals too, they be, and as for them rates
and taxes, ¢hey be certain enough, sure-ly, reg’lar as
clock-work and no mistake but what one must pay
’em. So we'd make bold to ask :

‘That will do, Simon Ricketts,’ here interposed
the Fairy. ‘I perceive that you are not exempt from
the common error of mortals, who invariably believe
that riches bring happiness as a matter of course.
This, however, is no business of mine. I have but to
do as you ask me, so long as it is not beyond my
power, and since you desire riches, you shall certainly
have them. Open the little drawer below the pigeon-
hole upon your extreme left, and you will find what
you want. JI only trust that you will have no reason
to repent the accomplishment of your wishes” With
these words the Silver Fairy waved her hand grace-
fully in.the air and forthwith disappeared, leaving
Dolly and her grandfather standing where they were.

They looked at each other for a moment without
speaking, and then the old man stepped forward, and
without more ado opened the drawer which the Fairy
had pointed out. Scarcely had he done so when he
started back in amazement. It was perfectly full of

 
136 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [ir.

new, crisp bank-notes, looking as if they had just
come from the Bank, and so closely packed that the
amount of wealth which they represented was evidently
considerable. With trembling hands Simon began to
remove the treasure from the drawer, and as he did so,
to his intense surprise and delight, found. that the
bulk appeared still undiminished, so that apparently
he had here an inexhaustible supply of wealth, beyond
anything which he had ever hoped for in his wildest
dreams. He bade Dolly call Martha Pattison in, and
at the sight of such riches the old lady actually forgot
her grievances and went off into a series of exclama-
tions which betokened her joy and astonishment.

‘Oh my!’ she cried. ‘ Did anybody ever? Lauks-
a-mercy! God bless the King and all the Royal
Family ! Goodness gracious me! I never did!’ and
with many other interjaculations of a similarly inco-
herent character did the worthy dame proceed to dis-
close the emotions of her soul.

Dolly was overwhelmed also. I cannot say what
visions floated before her eyes as regards the future,
but of course she felt that there would be some change
in the whole order of their lives, consequent upon this
transition from comparative poverty to unheard-of
wealth, and probably she was somewhat more doubt-
ful and uncertain about the matter than her elders.
For Dolly was young, and youth does not as a rule
set its affections upon wealth, at all events in the same
way that it is loved by those who have left their young
days and young feelings behind them. She was glad
for her grandfather’s sake, but I doubt whether her
personal gratification was intense, and perhaps if the
IIL] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 137

 

 

matter had been left to her decision she might have
asked something different from the powerful friend
who had proved so ready and so able to do what was
required,

It is impossible to say how long Simon would have
stood there fingering his newly acquired riches if at
last his granddaughter had not called his attention to
the lateness of the hour. It was long past his usual
bed-time, and rest is as necessary to an old milkman
as to anybody else. Moreover, after a short time
given to considering how and where he should stow
away his treasure, he came to the conclusion that it
would be far better to leave it where it was, and take
out notes from the drawer as he might require them
from time to time. So he stowed away those which
he had already taken out, to the value of several
hundreds of pounds, in another drawer, then closed
the treasure-drawer carefully, shut the desk, and left
the old piece of furniture to its former condition.
After this ceremony had been performed, the three
members of Simon’s family separated for the night,
each of them to get what sleep might be possible after
the strangely exciting events of the evening.

The next morning dawned brightly upon the little
household, and they assembled at the breakfast-table
with a feeling that a new state of existence was about
to open up before them. Simon conversed with
greater freedom than was his wont during the repast,
and was not above consulting both Martha Pattison
and Dolly as to the best method of employing that
wealth of which he had so unexpectedly become the
possessor. All agreed that the milk business should
138 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [ut

 

at once be abandoned ; and it was curious to see how
many objections to the trade, which had never been
spoken of in the family before, had all along been
entertained by the various members thereof.

It was a ‘low business altogether,’ said Martha ;
‘terrible wearing at times, remarked Simon himself ;
and even Dolly observed that there were great anxie-
ties connected with the uncertainty of the supply at
times, and the complaints made by some people of the
quality of the article supplied. It turned out that
Simon had never liked it, that Martha had always
thought it a degrading employment, and Dolly had
often wished that her grandfather lived in the country
and had some more agreeable occupation. So from
that morning the old-established firm of Simon
Ricketts and Co. (though the Co. only existed in im-
agination) was summarily dissolved, and the stream of
milk from that quarter ceased to flow.

But although to relinquish one occupation was
comparatively easy, it was a different matter altogether
to select another. Simon had reached a certain age,
at which men cannot learn a new business, and if he
had possessed the greatest talent for doing so, he
would hardly have been able to bring himself to
select one rather than another, being perfectly ignor-
ant of all. There was of course the alternative of re-
maining idle for the rest of his life, and living, as he
expressed it, ‘like a gentleman ;’ but to this he felt
scarcely equal, To a man who had worked all his
life idleness would be anything but agreeable, and of
this fact Simon was quite clever enough to be aware.
So the three talked matters over for some time with-
II] . THE SILVER FAIRIES. 139

 

out being able to decide what course would be most
likely to promote their happiness. Dolly suggested
that her grandfather might keep a shop—a large shop
with beautiful plate glass windows and occupying
some good position in the town. He might employ
himself with the accounts and general management of
the business, whilst she and Martha Pattison could
serve the customers, which they would be able to do
better than the proprietor himself. It might be a
haberdasher’s shop, or even a milliner’s and dress-
maker’s, for they would have plenty of money to hire
attendants who understood the business, and there
would be a great deal of amusement to be got out of it.

Martha Pattison, however, saw things in a different
light. What was the use of troubling to keep a shop,
she wisely remarked, if, as was the case with Simon,
you had got money enough to live without it? Better
by half hire a nice house in a fashionable part of the
town, and take lodgers, which was a genteel as well
as fashionable occupation. She, Martha, could man-
age the cooking, Dolly could look after the house, and
as for Simon he could amuse himself in any way he
liked.

This plan, however, did not commend itself to
the old milkman any more than the other, and he
already began to experience the difficulty of having
more money than he knew what to do with, which is
a difficulty in which no one believes who has not had
the opportunity of trying it. So the three good people
talked matters over during the whole of breakfast-
time without coming to any’conclusion, until at last a
bright thought dawned upon the master of the house-
140 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. (ur.

 

hold, and striking his hand forcibly upon his knee, he
exclaimed with emphatic vehemence, ‘Dash my wig
if I don’t ask Joe Muggins !’

The person thus referred to was one of consider-
able importance in the estimation of his neighbours as
well as his own. Joe Muggins kept the public house
at the corner of the street, and, what is more, managed
to make the public house keep him. He was a know-
ing man in all matters of sport, from horse-racing
down to rat-killing, and was moreover consulted by
many of his acquaintance upon affairs of a totally
different character. For Joe had an air of wisdom
about him which went a long way of itself towards the
establishment of a reputation for knowledge beyond
that possessed by the average of mankind. He had
not unfrequently a pipe in his mouth, and when he
removed this for the purpose of giving his opinion, in
pithy and oracular words, upon the business which
might be in hand, his appearance and manner were
most impressive, and seldom failed to carry conviction
to the bystanders.

Now Simon Ricketts was not what is called ‘a
public-house man.’ He preferred smoking his pipe in
his own den, and choosing his own company when he
wanted any company at all. But inasmuch as Joe
Muggins could not be expected to visit him in a snug
and confidential manner unless he occasionally joined
the party at the ‘Royal George,’ Simon used as a
matter of duty to frequent that place of entertainment
from time to time, and drink in with contented ears
the instructive remarks which fell from the lips of the
oracle. The latter had gh his part a great respect for
t1t.] ‘THE SILVER FAIRIES. I4l

 

Simon Ricketts, whose appearance in his parlour did
good to the house and was always hailed with satis-
faction by the respectable company therein assembled.
Therefore, the proposition to consult Joe Muggins
was one hardly unexpected by Dolly and Martha Patti-
son, and they readily gave in their adhesion to a plan
to which they knew well enough that resistance would
be useless. True, family affairs were better kept with-
in the family circle, but a man like Joe Muggins was
not to be found every day, and in a matter of such
immense importance it was certainly very desirable
that the best possible advice should be taken. How-
ever, as a discussion upon money matters is always
one of considerable delicacy, it was obvious that the
one in question could not with propriety be carried on
in the parlour of the ‘Royal George,’ where a certain
amount of publicity would be unavoidable. It was
therefore determined by the family conclave that a
formal and pressing invitation should at once be sent
to the redoubtable publican to drop in that evening,
with an intimation that business of an important and
particular nature would be brought under his notice.
On receiving the message Joe Muggins, as was his
wont when moved, took a deep draught of his favourite
ale, followed by a sigh which shook his mighty frame,
and then gave a nod of assent which implie@ at once
that he would not only be there at the appointed time,
but would be prepared to give his whole attention to
the matter, whatever it might be, and was perfectly
conscious of the enormous importance of his doing so.
Thus assured of the counsel of which he stood so much
in need, Simon got through the rest of the day as well
142 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [11.

 

as he could; looking through old accounts, contemp-
tuously throwing aside unpaid bills of doubtful cus-
tomers whom it would never be worth his while to
dun now, and wondering to himself how he could
ever have taken the trouble with his trade which but
a few hours ago had appeared so necessary and had
indeed produced to him such good results.

For, had not Simon been an industrious and hard-
working man, he would never have saved up money
enough to justify his relaxing his efforts in the after-
noon of life; had not those efforts been relaxed he
would have had no time for roving about, and now and
then attending sales by auction; and had he not so
attended, he would never have fallen in with the old
piece of furniture, never heard of the Silver Fairy, and,
worse than all, as a natural consequence, this veracious
story would never have been written. The labour of
his past life, however, seemed to Simon to have been
somewhat useless, seeing that in a moment of good
fortune he had apparently stumbled upon a means of
amassing wealth far more easily, and in fact without
any labour at all.

And such is the perversity of human nature, that
instead of being filled with gratitude at the luck
which had befallen him and the happy prospect before
him, Iam afraid that Simon cast back thoughts of
regret to the long years of life spent in toil and labour,
and felt injured because he had not discovered the Silver
Fairy at an earlier period of existence, when he had
youth and vigour to enjoy her bounties in a greater
degree and for a longer time than he could nowhope for,
He passed, as I say, a good part of that day in look-
Ill.] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 143

 

ing over old bills and accounts, and then he sauntered
forth into the streets and took a long walk. Still,
time hung heavy on his hands, and this first day of
riches seemed to the old milkman by far the longest
and dullest day he had ever passed. At last, to his
great satisfaction, evening came, and, true to his time,
the faithful Joe Muggins appeared, and took his seat
by the fireside, filled his pipe, gazed contentedly upon
the large tumbler of strong liquor which was dutifully
placed at his right hand, and prepared to deal, wisely
and well, with whatever matters might be brought
before him.

Simon seated himself exactly opposite his guest,
and having settled comfortably down in his arm-chair,
and seen that his womankind were in a proper atti-
tude of respectful attention, began his narrative. With
most ‘accurate regard to every detail, he related all
that had occurred, from the first moment of his having
quitted his house for a saunter in the direction of the
sale at old Lawyer Titledeeds’ mansion down to the
final appearance of the bank-notes in the little drawer.
He omitted not a single circumstance and added
nothing, but told the simple truth in his own way, and
kept his eyes steadily fixed upon his guest and neigh-
bour as he did so. The latter listened gravely, his
large saucer eyes opening more and more widely as
his friend proceeded, but never a word spake he during
the recital of the marvellous history, and when it was
finally concluded, he still maintained for some mo-
ments a deep and solemn silence, as though the
matter was not one to be lightly dealt with, or upon
which an opinion should be hastily given.
144 WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND. {uit

 

 

Presently, however, Joe Muggins roused himself to
action. He slowly and with much deliberation
removed his pipe from his mouth; then he carefully
laid it upon the table near him; next, he solemnly
lifted the tumbler to his lips and took a deep draught
of the beverage which it contained; then, drawing
from his capacious pocket a large red handkerchief, he
leisurely unfolded it upon his knee, and proceeded to
wipe his lips with the gravity of a man who feels that
he is performing an important act; this done, he
placed a hand upon each knee, bending forward in
order to do so, and staring Simon Ricketts full in the
face. He cleared his throat twice before he spoke,
and having by this time apparently made up his
mind and found his voice, propounded his views upon
the subject in the following momentous words:

‘Be a Parliament-man,’ and, having thus spoken,
maintained his position for some minutes, steadily
staring at his friend as if to mark the full and exact
effect produced by his words.

Simon was for the moment completely taken
aback. The oracle had spoken and had certainly
changed the whole scope and current of his ideas. He
had thought and pondered over many possible occu-
pations, but amongst them all, that of a member of
Parliament had certainly never been included. Indeed,
the worthy milkman had no very clear and definite
ideas upon the subject of the duties of a representative
of the people. He had some vague notion that the
position must be one of value, judging from the eager-
ness with which it was sought after by the candidates
at an election. Morcover, from newspaper reports
and public-house gossip, he fancied that the posses-
1i1.] THE SILVER FAIRIES 145

 

sion of a drawer containing an inexhaustible supply of
bank-notes might greatly facilitate his obtaining that
position to which he was now advised to aspire.

But, excepting that members of Parliament had to
live in London half the year, and make laws—-that
they talked a great deal in doing so, and that their
proceedings took up a great deal of space in the
newspapers which might otherwise be filled with more
amusing matter, Simon knew very little about them.
The worthy man was no politician, and, in fact
generally followed the lead of Joe Muggins at an
election, together with the other frequenters of the
‘Royal George’ parlour, with no very definite idea as
to the political party which he was supporting. It
was therefore an extraordinary idea to him that he
should suddenly be invited to become a prominent
actor in the arena of politics, and a proposition so
strange and unexpected almost took his breath away
at the first moment.

So he stared back at his sapient adviser without
uttering a word, and for some few seconds the two men
sat there gazing at each other with grave countenances
in a manner which would have appeared somewhat
ridiculous to a stranger. Not so, however, did it seem
to the females of the party, who had been cagerly
waiting to hear the opinion of the great cracle, and who,
now that it had been given, were puzzled and aston-
ished beyond measure. As to Dolly, Parliament being
in her mind intimately connected with that species of
ginger-bread which goes by the same name, she at first
imagined that her grandfather was advised to start a
shop in that line of business, which indeed would

L
146 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. (ut.

furnish him with some kind of occupation, though why
and wherefore it should be more desirable than his
present employment was hard to discover.

Martha Pattison, however, had more accurate
notions upon the subject. Being a staunch church-
woman and fond of her prayer-book, she had very
frequently studied the Prayer for the High Court of
Parliament therein contained, and from its expressions
had been led to the belief that members of Parlia-
ment were a grave, reverend, conscientious body of
men, whose only wish and object was to deliberate
and take counsel together to promote everything
which was right, to support religion, discourage vice,
pass good laws for everybody’s benefit, and generally
advance the safety, honour, and welfare of our sove-
reign and her dominions, and establish truth, justice,
religion, and piety amongst us for all generations.
That Simon should ever belong to such a body ap-
peared to Mrs. Pattison something almost unattain-
able, but the glory of attaining thereto would be great
indeed, and of asurety Joe Muggins would never have
proposed it had it not been possible. So it came
about that, after the two men had gazed earnestly at
each other for a certain time, as if the extraordinary
wisdom of the one and the marvellous increase in the
worldly importance of the other had inspired a mutual
reverence and awe which could scarcely find expression
in words, the female portion of the company were the
first to break the silence.

“Oh deary me, Simon!’ exclaimed Martha in an
earnest tone of voice, as if fully conscious of the
solemnity of the occasion: ‘Oh deary me! To
nt. “" THE SILVER FAIRIES. 147

 

think of you amongst all them wise people in the
Parliament House! Td never have thought of it
myself, but Mr. Muggins—/e knows—and why and
wherefore not I should like to know? Oh, he do
know a lot, Mr. Muggins! Just hear him!’ And
Martha clasped her hands and raised them before her
in a supplicating attitude as if appealing to the world
at large to bear testimony to the knowledge and
sagacity of the immortal Muggins.

Dolly, solely ejaculating the words ‘Oh la!’ sat
still and wondered greatly, whilst, at the conclusion
of Martha’s address, Simon opened his mouth and
spoke, scratching his head at the same time as if
thereby to give greater force to his words.

‘I bean’t rightly sure, he began, ‘whether I be
standing on my head or my heels;’ a remark which,
taken by itself, showed but small appreciation of his
own position, seeing that he was comfortably seated
in an arm-chair by his fireside, and not standing at
all. ‘It seems all curious like, he continued,
scratching his head with greater vigour, ‘and I can’t
make it out nohows. How be I to get made Parlia-
ment man, neighbour?’ and here Simon stopped
scratching and again stared at Joe Muggins with the
air of a man who had propounded a question difficult
of answer.

But Muggins was equal to the occasion. Without
altering his position or indulging in explanations of
unnecessary length, he simply remarked : ‘ Beer: jaw:
them notes ;’ by which it is to be feared that the astute
publican intended to convey the intimation that by
the bestowal upon the enlightened electors of malt-

L2
148 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [Ir

 

liquor, oratory, and money, the object which he had
proposed to Simon might be attained.

This answer had the effect of making the old
milkman still more confused, and he applied to his
guest for further and fuller information upon the
subject under discussion. A conversation thereupon
ensued, the particulars of which it would be difficult
to give. Suffice it to say that the advantages of
becoming a member of Parliament were so clearly
pointed out by the publican that all three of the
family party became convinced that nothing could be
better or more desirable for Simon under his altered
circumstances. It is possible that the fact of a general
election being about to take place had suggested the
idea to the excellent Joe Muggins; but, be this as it
may, the existence of this particular crisis seemed to
offer a tempting opportunity for the successful ac-
complishment of the design. It was therefore deter-
mined that the matter should be brought before the
frequenters of the ‘Royal George’ the very next
night ; that, without mentioning how or from whence
it came, it should be stated that Simon Ricketts had
come into a good bit of money, and that his readiness
to represent his fellow-citizens in Parliament on the
strength thereof should be duly set before them.

Accordingly, the host of the ‘Royal George’ took
measures to secure as large a party as possible for the
following evening, hinting in a mysterious manner
that something of uncommon importance was in the
wind. His room was well filled, and at the proper
moment Joe Muggins introduced the subject of the
election, hinted at the desirability of their being
III. ] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 149

represented by one of themselves, and forthwith
placed before the company the fact of Simon Ricketts
being able and ready to undertake the task.

The announcement was received with great satis-
faction by the assembled party. So ignorant were they
of the dignity which surrounds Englishmen in the dis-
charge of the sacred duty of electing men to repre-
sent them in Parliament, that their notion of the
proceeding went little further than the belief that it
presented an opportunity more than usually favour-
able for eating and drinking at somebody else’s
expense, and perchance pocketing a certain amount
of cash in consideration of recording their votes in
favour of a particular person. No sooner, therefore,
did they find Simon able and ready to pay for the
privilege of becoming a Member of Parliament than
they eagerly adopted him as their candidate, and
pledged themselves then and there to do all in their
power to promote his election. One or two of them
there were, indeed, who said that they should like a
statement of Simon’s views upon some of the great
questions of the day, but they were soon put down as
troublesome meddlers, and it having been ascertained
that the candidate was really in possession of plenty
of cash, he was received with open arms by the
electors present, and the very next morning ‘ Ricketts
and Independence’ might be seen placarded over
every wall in the vicinity of the ‘Royal George.’

That same evening good Simon found it necessary
to have recourse to the drawer again. It never struck
him that he might as well have asked the Silver
Fairy’s advice as to the step he was about to take,
150 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [iI

 

for so impressed was he with the unbounded wisdom
of Joe Muggins that he required no further counsel
after having taken that worthy’s opinion. So when
the evening had arrived he retired to his den, opened
the piece of furnitur@&nd extracted from the treasure-
drawer a goodly supply of notes, after which he pro-
ceeded to indulge in his usual pipe, and dozed over
it according to habit.

Presently there fell upon his ears the same creaking
sound which he had heard before, but which did not
now surprise him as on the previous occasign. He was
not surprised, either, when the same low, sweet strains
of music broke upon his sense of hearing, and through
his half-opened eyes he saw the piece of furniture open
and the graceful forms of the Silver Fairies come forth.
They seemed, however, to dance more sedately and
with less spirit and animation than at the time of
their first visit, and ere long they stood still as if by
common consent, and a voice sang, in soft and sub-
dued, yet clear tones, a song which sounded strangely
to the old man’s wondering ears :—

‘It chanced upon a summer’s day

The sparrow longed to be a pheasant,
And thought to strut in plumage gay
Could ne’er be anything but pleasant.
What joy! his earnest prayer was heard,
His homely feathers soon rejected,

And, in his new attire, the bird

Could ne’er as sparrow be detected.

But summer passed away, and then
Advancing months gave thoughts more sober
Of dogs and guns, and sporting men,
Who bid a welcome to October,
III.] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 15

 

Our sparrow now would fain return
To feathers brown and former station,
But meets, alas! refusal stern

And vainly asks for transmutation.
The hour arrives—he mounts—he flies,
And vainly like a sparrow twitters,

He falls ; proclaiming as he dies—

‘* Alas ! all is not gold that glitters !’”’

At the conclusion of these words the voice stopped,
and after a brief space of time, during which the
music sounded somewhat mournfully, the Silver
Fairies retired, and the piece of furniture shut itself
as usual,

Simon could not understand it at all. For one
moment an uncomfortable doubt stole over his mind
whether the allegory. of the sparrow in pheasant’s
feathers was not intended to signify himself and his
new aspirations ; but after a moment’s thought, he
rejected the idea, or at all events put it aside as one
too unlikely to be seriously entertained. Nothing,
indeed, could at this period have shaken his confi-
dence in Joe Muggins, or his conviction that he had
done well in the choice which he had made of an
-accession of wealth in preference to any other gift
which the Fairy could have bestowed. In fact he
felt supremely happy and contented. For, although
those good and wise people are doubtless perfectly
right who tell us that riches do not constitute happi-
ness, yet so long as the perversity of human nature
leads people to fancy the contrary to be the case,
those who find themselves suddenly elevated from
comparative poverty to unbounded affluence cannot
be prevented from feeling just as happy as if the
152 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. (111.

 

aforesaid good and wise people were entirely wrong.
Wherefore not only did Simon at this time wear a
look of contentment upon his rugged features such.
as it was pleasant to behold, but the generally un-
prepossessing countenance of good Martha Pattison
positively beamed with exultation, and even Dolly,
who was always cheerful and lighthearted, appeared,
if possible, more so than usual. Their happiness,
therefore, was not checked or interrupted by the song
which Simon had heard, nor indeed am I sure that
he deemed it worth while to say anything about it to
the others.

It is needless to relate the occurrences of the
following week. The wisdom of Joe Muggins was
completely proved, as far as the result to himself was
concerned. The ‘Royal George’ never before drove
such a roaring trade. Beer flowed like water, Simon
Ricketts grew immensely popular, and the drawer of
bank-notes had to be repeatedly opened. Once or
twice Simon heard the strains of fairy music at
night, and they sounded more mournful than when
they had first fallen upon his ears, but he was too
much occupied with other thoughts to take much
notice of them now, and as he was constantly from
home until bed-time, he heard them less than he
would have done under ordinary circumstances.

Allappeared to go prosperously with his new plan.
There were, indeed, some people who opposed his
election, and expressed their opinion that a member
of Parliament should be a person of some political
education and, if possible, of experience. These,
however, were but few in comparison with those who
I11.] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 153 |

 

took a larger and more enlightened view of the
subject. It was sufficient for them that their candi-
date should be a man with a stake in the country,
and Simon’s stake was evidently so considerable that
his fitness could not be doubted for a moment. And
so it came about that, when the election came on,
without having made a single intelligible speech or
propounded a single political opinion beyond the
broad statement that he thought public-houses should
be kept open as long as people liked to drink in them,
and was otherwise generally in favour of supporting
the British Constitution in Church and State, Simon
Ricketts was triumphantly elected a member of
Parliament.

Great were the rejoicings that followed, more beer
was consumed, more notes were taken out of the
drawer, and joy and exultation filled the heart of the
female members of the family. The worthy milk-
man, however, was not long before he began to find
out that he had entered upon a state of life very
different from that to which he had hitherto been
accustomed. Even when dressed in his best Sunday
clothes and smartened up under the careful eye of
Martha Pattison, he hardly felt easy in the new
society which he had entered. The company was not
altogether so select as he had been used to believe
before he had become one of them himself, and being
aman of much natural acuteness, he soon found out
that a man did not necessarily become a gentleman
either in tone, manners, or education, as soon as he
became a member of Parliament. Then they kept
very bad hours, and Simon, who had habitually sought
154 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [111.

 

his bed about nine o’clock, by no means approved
of having to sit up until one or two in the morning.

To his untaught mind, moreover, many of the
speeches made appeared very useless and unneces-
sarily long, and he could not understand why the
House of Commons, though it occasionally stopped
an orator by clamouring him down with undignified
shouts, had no regular method by which it could
prevent its time being wasted, and put an end to
fruitless discussions and prosy speeches. He was also
puzzled to know why the Chairman was called the
Speaker, as he spoke less than anybody else, and why
he and the clerks at the table before him wore great
wigs, when they had plenty of very good hair of their
own. The huge mace, too, which hung at the end of
the table, was an object which excited the mingled
astonishment and reverence of Simon Ricketts, and
scarcely less so the court dress and sword of the
Serjeant-at-Arms, with awe of whom he was mightily
impressed.

The worthy milkman was not altogether unhappy
at first : he made great friends with the door-keepers,
who, stern and haughty in their demeanour to the
outer world, are ever affable and condescending to
those who have once passed the sacred threshold
and become members of the august assembly whose
avenues they guard. Simon found, moreover, an
excellent friend in the worthy individual who presided
over the corridors in which members hung their coats
and deposited their umbrellas, and from him our good
friend received many useful hints as to the forms and
ways of Parliament. But, somehow or other, he felt
IIL] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 155

 

that he was not exactly in his element, and the song
of the Fairy, about the sparrow who sighed to become
a pheasant, recurred to his mind more than once about
this time.

It was not only the actual new life which troubled
him. Things did not go on at home quite as smoothly
as of old. Martha Pattison—or Mrs. Pattison as she
insisted upon being called now—was by no means
satisfied that things should remain as they had been
when Simon was only a milkman. Their house was
in a quarter scarce fashionable enough for a member
of Parliament, she said, and the whole style and
manner of living of the family ought now to be
changed. Simon resolutely set his face against this
at first, and declared that nothing should induce him
to live differently from the way in which he had so
long carried on his existence with tolerable comfort
to himself and others. Still he found it difficult to
withstand the constant hints—and more than hints—
which were dropped by Martha Pattison, whose views
upon the subject were very different from those which
Simon entertained, and who at last ‘capped the cli-
max’ by declaring that it was a sin and a shame that
Dolly shouldn’t go to Court, for ‘you couldn’t find a
better-looking nor a better-behaved girl among the
whole boiling of ’em.’ She added that the grand-
daughter of a member of Parliament was in duty
bound to pay her respects to Royalty, and Dolly her-
self, on being appealed to, avowed with many blushes
and simpers, that she should dearly like just for once
to go and see the Queen and all the fine ladies, if her
grandfather saw no particular objection.
156 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. ipeee

Poor Simon was by this time nearly beside him-
self with the changes which his new position had
entailed upon him, and having hitherto withstood the
alteration in house and manner of living which'had
been so pressed upon him, thought he had better
make the concession now demanded. Accordingly
Dolly Matson had to make those preparations for
going to Court which are necessary to all ladies who
perform this duty, but which were tenfold more terrible
and troublesome to her than to the majority of such
fair creatures. For fashionable dresses and fashion-
able dressmakers were as yet unknown to Dolly, and
their acquaintance was not to be made without much
trouble. You may depend upon it that Simon had
to go to his treasure drawer more than once during
the intervening time between his yielding the point
and the arrival of the day upon which the wished-for
ceremony was to be performed. Dolly, however,
fortunately fell into clever hands, and having a figure
which it was a pleasure to dress well, was turned out
in a most becoming manner for the great occasion.

I suppose there was hardly a nicer-looking girl at
the Drawing-room that day, and moreover she had
taken such lessons in curtseying as to be quite perfect
in the art, provided that she did not lose her nerve
upon the first occasion of finding herself face to face
with Royalty. What the exact result of that awful
moment really was has never been accurately ascer-
tained. All that may here be told is the fact that the
day was one of great and sad disappointment. Dolly
had formed high expectations of the courteous good-
breeding which would be uppermost among those
1II.] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 157

a ND,

ladies whose station entitled them to visit their Sove-
reign, and of the decorous, not to say graceful beha-
viour which would distinguish the assembly and which
she would have to imitate as best she could. Great,
then, was her astonishment and dismay at finding the
extraordinary difference of the reality from the scene
which she had expected.

A. crowd of ladies, more or less well-dressed, but if
well-bred, ladies who had left their good breeding be-
hind them for the day, jostled each other in the ante-
rooms, pushed, struggled, looked daggers, dropped re-
marks more cutting than their looks, and positively
fought their way almost into the presence of Royalty
in a manner which, to the milk-man’s granddaughter,
appeared anything but dignified, and scarcely respect-
ful to the august lady to whom they had come to do
honour. Dolly, after a severe struggle with this ill-
behaved throng of her fair sisters, found herself once
more in the carriage of the lady who had taken her
to the Drawing-room, being the wife of a brother
member who had made Simon’s acquaintance and
had good-naturedly offered to help him out of the
difficulty he experienced in finding some one to look
after his granddaughter upon that eventful occasion.

The poor girl returned home with her gown half
torn off her back, her shoulder scratched by the epaulet
of an unscrupulous gentleman in attendance upon some
other ladies, and her arm smarting from the savage
pinch of a malicious old dowager whose progress
towards Royalty she had unwittingly barred. She was
dreadfully disappointed at the’whole scene and was
effectually cured of her Court-going propensity, so
158 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. pee

 

that Simon was exposed to no further requests in
the same direction.

By this time, however, he had already begun to
weary of his new existence and actually to doubt
whether he had been wise in so readily following the
advice of the sapient Muggins. It was not only the

late hours and the tiresome speeches of which he had
to complain, but the innumerable letters which were
addressed to him by that large class of persons who
think that as soonas a man has been enabled to write
M.P. after his name, they have aright to communicate
with him upon every conceivable object under the sun
and several more into the bargain. Simon Ricketts was
pestered with applications for subscriptions, and with
so many other requests that he lost all patience with
his correspondence, and at last took to the use of
strong language whenever a new batch of these trouble-
some letters was delivered.

Now Simon was not a man habitually given to the
use of hard words, and it was only under the pressure
of the troubles caused by his new phase of life that he
had acquired the habit. But the increase of corre-
spondence and the whirl into which his brain got at last
through the multiplicity of changes which had befallen
him had really quite confused and bewildered him
altogether, and he became liable to fits of rage to
which he had never before been accustomed. Several
times he wished the letters and their writers all kinds
of bad wishes, and this generally occurred when he
was seated in his den, into which the letters were
always brought.

On one occasion, after having given vent to a
1H. ] THE SILVER FAIRIES, 159

 

burst of passionate exclamations which cannot with
propriety be here inscribed, he had shortly afterwards
occasion to go to his treasure drawer, which to his
surprise stuck fast, and resisted all his efforts to open
it. Dismayed at so unpleasant an occurrence, he
sought the advice of his female relations, but even
with their assistance failed to open the drawer. He
feared, however, to resort to any violent means to
do this, lest he should give offence to the Fairies, and
determined to wait until next day in hopes that the
drawer might be less obstinate.

That same evening it chanced that the House of
Commons was not sitting, and Simon smoked a pipe
in the den after his old fashion. After a while, the old
creaking sound fell again upon his ears, the piece of
furniture opened, and the Silver Fairies once more ap-
peared. Mournful, however, was the strain which the
music played, and sad were the countenances of the
dancers, and presently Simon heard a voice singing
words which ran as follows :—

‘ Where Silver Fairies make their home
And bounteous gifts on men bestow,
No evil thoughts or words may come,
Or gifts and Fairies thence will go.
Warned once again by Elfin rhyme,
Mortal! from evil words forbear,
Lest, banished by thy foolish crime,
The Fairies make their home elsewhere.’

The meaning of these words was easily understood
by Simon, who now recollected that the Fairy Queen,
when she had appeared to him on the first occasion,
had warned him against allowing her to hear bad
language whilst she was domiciled in his house. He
160 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND, {rz1.

 

was struck at once with a fear of what might be the
consequences of his indiscretion, and determined to
avoid again falling into an error which might cost him
so dear. As yet, indeed, he was uncertain whether or
no his drawer of notes was not already permanently
closed, and it was with fear and trembling that he once
more tried it upon the next morning. To his great
joy it opened the same as of old, and was as prolific
as ever. Apparently the Fairies had only intended
to give him a warning, and this he resolved should
not be lost upon him. Therefore, as he found himself
quite unable to refrain from occasional violent excla-
mations directed against the writers of the numerous
begging letters which he daily received, he took the
wise precaution of having them always placed in the
parlour, so that he got over his rage there before pro-
ceeding to establish himself in his den.

As time wore on, however, other difficulties cropped
up, and among these the first and foremost was the
increased determination on the part of his friends to
press upon the worthy milkman the absolute necessity
of his moving to some larger and more fashionable
residence, such as would better become the exalted
position which he had been called upon to fill. Of
course Martha Pattison was very urgent upon the
point, and although Dolly did not press it, there
could be but little doubt that the change would be
agreeable to her. Poor Simon stood out as long as
he could, until at last he was induced to give a re-
luctant assent to the change. It may be wondered
why the good man, in this and his other troubles,
never asked the Silver Fairy’s advice, and indeed the
It] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 161

 

answer would be difficult to give. The only thing to
be said is that Simon considered that the Fairy Queen,
in giving him riches which were apparently unlimited,
had done so much for him that he could not decently
ask for more, or perhaps he thought that to go for
advice would be evidence of a weak and uncertain
spirit which he did not wish to give, and might more-
over look as if he thought the Silver Fairy had not
already dealt with him in a sufficiently liberal manner.
Be this as it may, he yielded to the pressure of Martha
Pattison and his friends, and allowed a large house to
be taken for him in a fashionable part of the town.
They could not persuade him, however, to part with
his old home, and although strenuously urged to let
or sell it, he resolutely refused to do cither the one or
the other. An old woman was accordingly hired to oc-
cupy and look after the premises, and Simon promised
himself an occasional visit to the place in which so
many of the happiest days of his life had been spent.

The night before the family quitted the old house
Simon felt much depressed, and all the joy of Mrs.
Pattison and light-hearted conversation of Dolly failed
to rouse him even to tolerably good spirits. After
the others had retired to rest, he betook himself to
his den for the last time—took out a quantity of
notes and put them into a small desk in which he
generally kept his private papers, and then, throwing
himself with a groan into his arm-chair, lit his pipe
and tried to smoke away the grief which rose within
his breast.

It was in vain. Visions of past days of tranquil
enjoyment flitted before him, faces loved and lost

M
162 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [Tt

 

seemed to rise before his eyes, and the contrast
between his former state of happy industry and his
present condition of idle luxury (for so he deemed it)
became indescribably vivid and at the same time
painful. Presently when he was between dozing and
waking, the old creaking noise came once more from
the piece of furniture, which again opened as on
previous occasions.

Simon seemed to be unable to rouse himself from
the dreamy state of languor into which he had fallen,
but yet he saw with sufficient clearness what followed.
The music played in a strain more melancholy than
ever, and fell upon his ears with so mournful a cadence
as to add greatly to the grief which, even in his half-
sleep, he felt so acutely. Forth came the little figures,
too, as usual, but across the beauteous white of the
frosted silver breasts of each a black scarf was thrown,
and their whole deportment was one which betokened
great and intense sorrow. Very slowly they moved to
and fro, and in a voice which seemed agitated by the
most profound emotion, the same singer whom Simon
had previously heard chanted in a low and grave
tone the following verses :—

‘ Farewell to happy moments past,
Never, ah! never to return !
What happiness on earth may last ?
When will mankind true wisdom learn ?
Farewell! ‘Farewell !” oh! cruel word,
‘From home and friends when forced to part,
“What sound more sad is ever heard
To try the fond and faithful heart ?
In vain we strive for grateful rest,
We yield to some resistless spell,
And, forced from all we love the best,
Are tortured by that word ‘‘ Farewell !”’
III.] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 163

 

Simon listened to these words with as much attention
as his dozing condition permitted, and felt somewhat
uneasy at the tone and manner in which they were
sung, as well as at the actual words themselves.
Their meaning was not very clear to him, but he
supposed that the Silver Fairies, like himself, disliked
leaving the old den, and were taking their last fare-
well of the same, as in fact he himself was doing,
though after a different fashion.

In fact, the next day the old piece of furniture,
together with such of Simon’s other household goods
as had not already been moved to the new house,
was to be taken thereto, and placed in the room which
had been fixed upon for the study of the master of
the house. Doubtless, thought Simon, the Fairies
knew this as well as he did, and perhaps liked the
proposed change little better. However, it was too
late to make any alteration in his plans, and there-
fore he deemed it best to say nothing upon the
subject, but, after the scene which has just been
described, retired to rest with a heart by no means as
light as that with which in old days he had been used
' to close his evenings after a good day’s work anda
comfortable pipe at the end of it.

Next morning all was bustle and confusion in the
old house, men running to and fro, luggage being
moved from one place to another, would-be helpers
standing in the way at every corner, idle people
looking on, and all the usual preparations going for-
ward for the migration of a family from one house
to another. Simon felt more melancholy than ever,
but it seemed useless to indulge in such feelings, and

u 2
164 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. pase

 

he therefore bore up against them, and went off in a
four-wheeled cab to his new home, in company with the
female members of his family. They arrived there
without accident, and in due time their luggage fol-
lowed, and amongst other things the old piece of
furniture was safely brought, and duly deposited in
its destined place.

’ The room in which it was placed was in great
contrast to that from which it had been brought,
being of a bright, new appearance, with a smart
carpet, fine curtains, furniture just bought, and alto-
gether fitted up as a study fit for so eminent a per-
sonage as a member of Parliament. There was no
niche into which the old piece of furniture exactly
fitted, but as Simon naturally wished to have it near
him, it was placed in a corner of the room where it
certainly contrasted somewhat strangely with all the
new furniture, but still, from its own natural respect-
ability of appearance, was by no means so much out
of place as a less substantially built article might
have been. Out of place or not, however, there it was
deposited, and after a while the rest of good Simon’s
things were duly arranged and he found himself es-
tablished in his new home.

As evening drew on, the ex-milkman’s depres-
sion of spirits returned, and he avowed to Dolly that
he didn’t like ‘these here changes’ and had never felt
in worse spirits than he did that day. Dolly, poor
girl, was not particularly happy herself, for the break-
ing up of a home, however humble, is not a pleasant
business when it comes to the point, and there were
many old associations which could not be parted with
IIl.] THE SIL VEN FAIRIES. 165

 

entirely without regret. She knew, however, that
her grandfather had one source of solace which in
old days had never failed him, and advised him ac-
cordingly to have recourse to that faithful comforter —
his pipe. By no means unwilling to follow this
counsel, the old man betook himself to his study,
pulled an arm-chair in front of the fire, lighted his
pipe and sat down for his first smoke in his grand
new home. After a whiff or two, however, he be~
thought himself that he would take a look at the old
piece of furniture in its new position, and just see
that everything was right with it. Somehow or other,
it did not look to him quite the same as usual. What
it was, he could not tell, but certainly there was a
difference, just as you may observe in a human being,
whose features indeed remain the same, but who
sometimes varies extremely in expression according
to his or her condition of mind and body. So there
seemed, somehow or other, to be an unusual and un-
accountable heaviness about the old piece of furniture
which struck Simon at once. He rose from his chair,
walked to the corner of the room in which stood the
article in question, and opened it forthwith. ‘There
were the pigeon-holes and drawers exactly the same
as usual, and Simon stretched out his hand and
opened the treasure drawer which had stood him in
such good stead. There was no difficulty, as once
before, in his doing this, but when he had done so,
dreadful to relate—‘ the drawer was empty!’ Nota
note, not a scrap of paper, not a vestige of anything
whatever. Empty, positively empty, was the drawer,
and the fact was too plain and certain to admit of a
166 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [riI.

 

doubt. Simon gave a groan from the very bottom of
his heart, and sank into the nearest chair. Visions of
ruin passed before his eyes at that moment. Here
were his riches apparently swept away in an instant,
and what was to become of him he knew not.

Rousing himself, however, by a mighty effort, he
determined to ascertain the full extent of his mis-
fortune, and for that purpose proceeded to open every
drawer in the piece of furniture, but alas! with
exactly the same result. The fountain of bank-notes
had evidently dried up, and thg wealth of Simon was
atanend. One more hope remained: the Fairy might
besummoned. Before venturing, however, upon this
experiment, the old man thought it best to break the
news to his female relations, and. accordingly pro-
ceeded to the drawing-room, from which they had
not yet retired for the night. His strange and haggard
appearance struck both the women at once,

‘Oh, Grandfather!’ cried Dolly, ‘what zs the
matter? What /as happened ?’

Then Simon unfolded the tale he had to relate,
and the consternation it created may be more easily
imagined than described. Both Martha and Dolly
agreed that the only hope remaining was to summon
the Fairy once more, and as Dolly’s presence had
been successful upon the last occasion, it was settled
that she should go with her grandfather to the study
in the present crisis. The two, therefore, marched
off to the room without further delay, with the inten-
tion of using the means which they had been bidden
to employ in order to summon the Silver Fairy when
they required her advice. Those means, however,
1I.] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 167

 

were not required upon the present occasion. Just
as they reached the door of the study a loud noise as
of a heavy fall startled both grandfather and grand-
daughter. They looked at each other for a moment
in wonder, and then opened the door.

The cause of the noise was at once apparent. The
old piece of furniture had fallen forward upon its face,
and lay on the floor smashed and broken, the very
wreck and ruin of its former self. Whether impelled ~
by some supernatural power, or animated by some
internal feeling not common to furniture in general,
it had apparently made a determined effort at self-de-
struction, and had nearly, if not quite, accomplished
its purpose. This, however, was not the only sight
which met the eyes of the two persons who entered
the room. Standing upon one of the fragments of
the broken piece of furniture, and gazing upon the
destruction around her with a mournful eye, was a
figure which they instantly recognised as the Queen
of the Silver Fairies. She looked up as they entered,
and fixed her gaze upon the two wondering mortals
in silence for a few moments, whilst they stood rooted
to the spot with amazement : then she spoke.

‘Simon Ricketts !’ she said, ‘you may well look
with wonder and sorrow upon the scene before you,
of which, indeed, you yourself have been the cause.
When you purchased and brought to your house the
ancient, happy home of the Silver Fairies, you re-
ceived full notice of what you might gain from such
guests, and what you should do in order to retain
their fortunate presence. Alas! you have followed in
the usual track of mankind. Advice you might have
168 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [U1

 

had, which, if obeyed, would have made your life
happy—but advice you have never once asked. Im-
pelled by the insatiable desire for wealth which has
ruined so many of your race, you demanded riches,
and believed that in their acquisition you had ob-
tained everything which mortal man could desire.
By this time you have probably discovered your mis-
take in this respect. But it has not been your only
mistake. You were warned not to offend the ears
and good taste of the Silver Fairies by language
which they dislike, and you required a second warn-
ing. Worse still, however, you neglected the more
important injunction as to moving our ancient home,
and, in spite of warning, you have conveyed it to a new
dwelling in which no fairy could remain a single hour.
You might have understood that novelty and fashion
are things ill-suited to the life of a Silver Fairy. You
might have known that our home could not exist side
by side with the furniture in this room. By removing
it from your own old home you have sacrificed it and
our happiness as well as your own to the inordinate
love of riches, and you will now find that the latter
have vanished as well, and that you have gained
nothing, but lost everything, by the course you have
so foolishly adopted.’

As the Silver Fairy spoke these words with a stern
voice, poor old Simon felt his heart sink within him.
What a prospect lay before him! After a life of com-
parative prosperity he had risen suddenly to affluence,
and now saw himself about to be plunged into hope-
less poverty; for the debts which he had incurred
since his election, and the expenses of his altered
I1I.] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 169

household, had been such as he could never have
hoped to defray save by the assistance of the treasure
drawer, and with its loss there seemed nothing before
him but utter ruin. This thought, and perhaps in
addition some little remorse at having seemed un-
grateful to his benefactors the Silver Fairies, cut the
old man to the heart. His knees trembled beneath
him, his voice would not come at command, and he
stood before the old piece of furniture the very
picture of hopeless misery. But with Dolly it was
happily otherwise. Her loving heart felt more deeply
for the blow which had evidently fallen with such
severity upon her aged relative than for any possible
consequences to herself, and to shield him from harm
was her first and only thought at that moment.
Throwing herself on her knees before the Fairy Queen,
she addressed her in an earnest voice of entreaty.

‘Oh please don’t say such cruel things to grand-
‘father, great Fairy! Indeed and indeed it wasn’t his
fault ; it was Martha Pattison and I who persuaded
him to want more money, and to be grand and great,
and to move from the dear old home and come here.
Don’t let A212 be punished for our fault! Oh please
don’t! Just think what an old man he is, and how
hard it will be for him to be so poor.in his old
age! Do punish me instead, and let grandfather off!’
As she spoke these pleading words, the tears stood in
Dolly’s eyes, and presently rolled down her cheeks,
and she clasped her hands in the intensity of her
earnestness, ;

The Fairy Queen looked upon her and smiled
pleasantly.
170 - WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [ur

‘Dear child!’ she said, ‘who could resist such an
advocate? Yet there- are things beyond the power
of even a fairy. A lost home and a broken heart are
neither of them things easy to restore, and our home
is gone for ever. Still we must not be unjust and
punish your grandfather as if he had intentionally
done us this evil. Let him look to the notes he
_ placed in his desk last night, and he will find enough
to save him from the calamity he dreads. But be
wise in time. Your old home is not destroyed like
the home of the Silver Fairies. Return there—be con-
tent—and all may still be well with you.’

She spoke, and as the last words left her mouth
her figure became gradually more and more indistinct
and presently faded away entirely out of the sight of
the two mortals. Her speech, however, had rekindled
hope in the bosom of Simon Ricketts. Recovering
himself from his state of despondency, he turned to
his granddaughter, and having tenderly kissed her,
then and there made a solemn vow to get quit of his
new house and all its contingent expenses with as
little delay as possible, and to return forthwith to his
former home, and the old Den. Martha Pattison
raised a feeble remonstrance on being informed of
this determination, but on finding Simon quite re-
solved on the change, and warmly supported by his
granddaughter, she wisely submitted to that which
could not be avoided.

I am glad to say that on examining his desk,
Simon found that the notes which he had so luckily
stowed away were sufficient to pay off every farthing
of debt which he owed, and to leave a balance over
®

III] THE SILVER FAIRIES. 17I

 

and above which was quite worth having. Ere long,
therefore, he was not only back in his old home, but
re-engaged in his old trade, having resigned his seat
in Parliament, and returned with real pleasure to his
cows. In one thing only did he venture to act if not
in opposition to, at least quite independently of, the
suggestions of the Fairy Queen. He had the old piece
of furniture carefully repaired, and placed once more
in the recess in the old den which it had formerly
occupied. And whenever Simon felt an angry ora
covetous thought rising in his heart, he would go and
sit down before the old piece of furniture, and as he
contemplated it, would call to mind the occurrences
with which it had been connected, and forthwith
banish from his heart the unworthy guest.

After all, he had no great reason to regret what
had happened. He had learnt the great lesson of
contentment, and had, at the expense of a short time
of trouble and vexation, rather improved his prospect
of ending his days comfortably. Things continued to
go right with him, and before he died he was gener-
ally looked upon as a well-to-do man, and that upon
very good grounds, as he had greatly increased his
business and had evidently prospered therein. Neither
did he leave this world until he had seen his grand-
daughter happily married to a deserving young farmer
who had long looked upon her with loving eyes, and
to whom she made an excellent wife when he took her
to his country home.

Joe Muggins, after the return of Simon to his old
trade, fought rather shy of him at first, fearing to be
accused of having been the cause of his loss of wealth,
172 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [ur

 

However, when he found that the worthy milkman felt
no regret upon the subject and certainly bore no malice,
he gradually came round, dropped in again now and
‘then as in old days, and eventually gave the final
proof of his wisdom by taking Martha Pattison for his
wife. Itis no part of my business to narrate what
effect this step had upon the trade of the ‘Royal
George’ or the comfort of its keeper, but I am in-
clined to believe that Simon Ricketts sorrowed but
little at the event. Anyhow, he lived on for several
years afterwards without seeming any the worse for it,
and probably died none the sooner from the loss. He
ended his days peacefully and happily, and there were
those that said he had further help and assistance
from the same source from whence had come his sudden
wealth. This, however, is probably untrue. People
who have once banished fairies from their homes are
seldom lucky enough to get them there again. They
may forgive ; they may even leave behind them words
of wisdom and good advice by attention to which
mortals may thrive and prosper. But seldom if ever
do they revisit with their sweet presence the -scenes
where they have once been happy and have lost their
happiness ; and whatever ignorant people may have
thought and said, I feel very sure that when he left the
new study after that important interview with the
great queen, Simon Ricketts had taken his last look,
for ever and aye, at the Silver Fairies.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MOLLY AND THE DEVIL-FISH
Iv.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 173

 

IV.

THE WITCHES’ ISLAND,

IT was raining in torrents : ‘raining cats and dogs,’ as
some people say, though I never knew the exact origin
of the saying, and never witnessed the actual and
literal occurrence of such an event. Anyhow, however,
the great drops fell fast from the dark heavy clouds,
and what made it worse was that the wind was blow-
ing so fiercely at the same time, that to hold up an
umbrella was simply impossible. A most troublesome
wind it was, too, not coming like a respectable wind
from any particular quarter, but taking you on all
sides as if it had the special privilege of coming from
every quarter at once, or of selecting the point from
which it could make itself the most disagreeable at
any one particular moment.

So Molly Goodchild found it rather difficult to
keep dry as she struggled against wind and rain,
wrapped her old red cloak round her as closely as
she could, clutched more tightly the handle of the
covered basket which she was carrying, and made the
best of her way along the road by the sea-shore. On
a bright, calm summer evening it was pleasant enough
to stroll along this road and enjoy the soft breezes from
the ocean. But there were no soft breezes now, and as
to walking nearer the sea than you could help, it wasn’t
174 WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND [1v.

 

to be thought of. The waves were running mountains
high and dashing themselves like mad things upon the
rocks, scattering their spray far before them as they
broke with a crash like thunder. The sea-gulls were
flitting like uneasy spirits over the sea, and every now
and then uttering a shrill cry which you might take
to mean delight, fear, or excitement, whichever you
pleased, but which was neither musical to the tender
ear nor reassuring to the timid heart.

I don’t know much about Molly Goodchild’s ear,
but her heart was certainly timid, and particularly so
upon the evening upon which she is introduced to our
notice. For John Goodchild, her husband for ten
years past, albeit a sturdy man and well able to earn
his living and support his family by following his trade
as a fisherman, was unfortunately given to combining
other and less lawful pursuits with that legitimate
occupation. In those days, smuggling was deemed
no great crime by the seafaring population of the coast,
and John Goodchild was generally supposed to be one
of the gang who had run many cargoes and success-
fully eluded the vigilance of the Preventive men for a
long time.

Nor was rumour so much in the wrong in this
particular instance as is frequently the case. John
Goodchild was in the thick of the smuggling, sure
enough, and a bolder and more fearless fellow could
hardly be found. His cottage was handy to the shore,
being built into the chalk cliffs which rose like giants
from the sea, close to it at one place, then falling back
for a hundred yards inland and then jutting out again as
if to give the waves something to dash against in high
Iv.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 175

 

tides. The road by the sea, therefore, to which I have
alluded, was not very straight or very even, and
seemed to have been constructed by some one whose
object had been to keep as close as possible to the
water’s edge, but who had been obliged. at various
places to bore through the cliff or to take a turn some
way inland in order to protect his work from the
action of the sea.

Molly Goodchild proceeded on her way for some
distance until she came to a spot at which the road
turned its back altogether on the sea and dived into
the cliff as if it had become suddenly tired of the sight
of the blue ocean. At the distance of a hundred yards
or soit came out again and faced the open air, but
the passage from one end to the other was somewhat
dark and dismal, and so Molly thought as she paused
at the entrance for a moment as if hesitating whether
to advance. She did not, however, hesitate long, for
fishermen’s wives have no time for hesitation, especi-
ally when they are hurrying home to prepare their
husband’s supper, and feel an inward consciousness
that they are a good bit behindtime. This being the
case with worthy Molly, she quickly nerved herself to
the task, and plunged boldly into the gloomy passage
before her without further delay. As she did so the
air struck keen and chill, and she wrapped her cloak
still more tightly around her, and shivered withal. She
hurried along as fast as she could until she had got
about half-way through the passage, when suddenly
she stopped as if she had been shot. A voice, soft and
gentle, but still a voice, sure enough, although the
owner thereof was nowhere visible, whispered into
176 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [rv.

 

her ear in perfectly audible tones— ‘Molly Good-
child!’

"Utterly confounded, astonished, and not a little
alarmed, the good woman could for an instant say or
do nothing. Almost immediately afterwards, another
voice in tones as loud as a trumpet calling to battle,
shouted her name again, apparently from the farther
end of the passage to which she was advancing—
‘Molly Goodchild!’ and with scarcely the interval of a
second, another voice sounded in tones equally loud
and clear from the entrance which she had left behind
her, ‘Molly Goodchild !’ and immediately afterwards
other voices joined in, and the bewildered woman heard
the whole place reverberating with the sound of her
own name, shouted forth again and again as if it had
been a war-cry, or a chorus, or something to which
everybody else had a right, instead of being, as she
considered it, her own private property.

Under these extraordinary circumstances there was
in Mrs. Goodchild’s opinion nothing for it but to go on
as fast as she could, inasmuch as between voices before,
voices behind, and voices on both sides of her, she
had not the remotest conception which way any of
the speakers wished her to go. So without more ado
(though trembling considerably as she did so) she
hurried forward again with the utmost possible
speed, whilst the same sounds still continued to ring
in her ears until she reached the farther end of the
passage, and with a sigh of joy came out once more
into the open air.

Ata little distance from the passage, the road bore
upwards and passed between two great masses of rock
1v.| THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 177

 

on either side of it, which seemed for all the world as if
one of the great crags had taken pity on the engineer
at that particular spot, and split itself on either side
so as to allow his road to run through it without
further trouble. But just before it reached this point

_ another road, or rather cart-track, bore away from the
.main road down towards the sea, and led to the cot-

tage in the cliff which was the abode of the smuggler-
fisherman and his wife. When the latter had arrived
at this point, she turned off and was about to hurry
down to her home, when her attention was suddenly
arrested by a loud and discordant laugh which appar-
ently proceeded from the cleft rock immediatély before
her.

Once more she halted, and looked in the direction

', from whence the sound seemed to come. The sight

which met her eyes was by no means calculated to

calm her already perturbed spirit. Seated upon the

side of the rock, as if it was in a position of extreme
comfort and one to which it was daily accustomed,
was a gigantic Turbot, surveying her with great com-

-placency, and apparently shaking its fat sides with

suppressed laughter.

Molly Goodchild was struck dumb with astonish-
ment. ‘Turbots she had often seen, and, as a fisher-
man’s wife, was well acquainted with their natural
habits and usual methods of proceeding. But so large
a turbot—so far from the water, and evidently so com-
pletely at his ease, Molly had certainly never seen
before, and for a moment she stared at him with open

mouth, scarcely able to believe her own eyes. Was

ita turbot ? and could it have been from Aim that the
178 WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND. [1v.

laugh had proceeded? Another moment put the matter
beyond a doubt. A second burst of laughter again
sounded forth from the rock, and most decidedly it
came from the Turbot. His enormous fins positively
wagged with the effort, his huge mouth opened and
shut as if he were gasping for breath, and it was pal-
pable that he was enjoying himself ina manner which
few turbots could have done save indeed in that native
element which the fish in question appeared to have
left for the time.

Molly knew not what to make of it. The first
thought that crossed her mind was one regarding the
great size and probable weight of the creature before
her, and how much he would fetch in the market, if
she only had him there. This thought, however, passed
away. in a moment, for Molly was far too sensible not
to perceive at once that this could ‘be no ordinary
turbot. How he came there, what fun he could find
in lying on the rocks instead of swimming in the sea
as most respectable turbots generally did, and above
all, what he meant by laughing in that strange and
unaccountable manner,-were questions to which the
good woman could return no answer, and for a full
half-minute she continued to look at the creature
‘without either the will or the power to say a word,
Indeed, the Turbot was the first to break the silence,
for when he had sufficiently recovered from his fit of
laughter, he said, in a wheezy choky kind of voice,
such as you might have expected from a fish of his
size and corpulence, ‘Molly Goodchild! where's
‘your husband?’ and having said these words, he
went off into another fit of laughter of a kind which

=
Iv.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 179

 

threatened to choke him speedily if it continued much
longer.

_ Molly, however, was by no means disposed to
laugh at his words. She had gone off quite early that
morning to the neighbouring town in order to make
certain purchases of housekeeping necessaries, and, of
course, knew nothing of her husband’s doings during
the day. The laughter of the Turbot, however, at
once awakened in her breast the suspicion of evil. For
as turbots may be supposed to be naturally hostile to
fishermen, it was unlikely that any good luck which
might have befallen John Goodchild would have
excited the fish in question to the degree of merri-
ment with which he appeared to be possessed. Where-
fore the excellent Molly, losing at once any fear which
she might have entertained of the strange creature
who had accosted her in such an unwonted manner,
and feeling only anxiety for the husband whom she
had left safe and sound in the morning and whom
she was hastening to rejoin, spoke out at once in
answer to the fish, and ina voice somewhat shaken by
an undefined dread, gave utterance to the following
words :— _

‘Lack-a-daisy me, Muster Turbot, whatever do you
mean? Has anything happened along o’ my John?
Sure-ly he be at home and ready for his. supper, too,
bean’t he?’.

At this response to his question the Turbot posi-
tively roared, till great, juicy tears rolled from his eyes,
and his whole frame quivered with emotion. Molly
knew not what to make of it, or how to proceed un-
der these extraordinary circumstances, and was still

N2
Q

180 WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND. [iv.

 

hesitating and wondering, when, with a mighty effort
the creature recovered himself, and after a puff or two
which were rendered necessary by the great exertion
he had undergone, droned out, with as much gravity
as he could, the following astounding words :—

‘The Fisherman’s wife she is gone to the town,

Hey ho! sing by the sea! :

With her very best bonnet and very best gown,
Roar away, waves, and ye winds, blow free !

The Fisherman sauntereth down to the shore,
Hey ho! sing by the sea!

Shall he ever come sauntering back any more?
Roar away, waves, and ye winds, blow free !

~ The Fisherman lieth full length on the beach,
Hey ho ! sing by the sea !
Loud laugh the fishes, aye! all and each,
Roar away, waves, and ye winds, blow free!

The witches are watching the crest of each wave,
Hey ho! sing by the sea!
Long have they looked for a mortal slave,
Roar away, waves, and ye winds, blow free !
A mortal slave must the witches get,
Hey ho! sing by the sea!
To row their boat and to mend their net,
Roar away, waves, and ye winds, blow free !
The Fisherman slumbereth, long and deep,
Hey ho! sing by the sea !
Hurra ! for the witches have caught him asleep,
Roar away, waves, and ye winds, blow free !
They have carried him off to their sacred isle,
Hey ho! sing by the sea !
Who shall reclaim him by force or guile ?
Roar away, waves, and ye winds, blow free !
Vainly his widow her hands may wring,
Hey ho ! sing by the sea !
But loudly the fishes will laugh and sing,
Roar away, waves, and ye winds, blow free !’
Iv.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 181

 

As the Turbot came to a conclusion, Molly Good-
child felt a terrible sense of calamity steal over her, |
and a conviction that the words which she had just
heard were certainly true and that her husband was
lost to her for ever.

Upon that wild coast there were many strange
traditions, and wonderful legends, but none upon
which all authorities were more completely agreed
than that of the Witches’ Island. Who, or what
the witches were had never been accurately ascer-
tained; their number was unknown, the extent of
their power uncertain, but of their existence none of
the inhabitants of the coast entertained the slightest
doubt whatever. The island which bore their name
was but a few hundred yards from shore, and as nearly
as possible in the middle of the large bay close to
which the cottage of the Goodchilds was situated.
Molly had more than once been in her husband’s boat
when he had rowed or sailed past this island, and had
never at such times remarked anything peculiar about
it, or seen any traces of the evil beings who were said
to make it their home. But at nights, when the waves
were breaking with their heavy, thundering crash
upon the rocks, and the winds were whistling around
the little cottage, both Molly and her husband had
fancied that they heard sounds like human voices
borne on the blast from the direction of the island.
Sometimes a scream, but more often harsh, dis-

‘cordant laughter, singularly out of place at such an
hour and in such a locality, came ringing in the
ears of the smuggler-fisherman and his wife, and at
such moments they would draw nearer to each other
182 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [iv.

 

and closer to. the fire, and mutter words of fear and
wonder.

More than this, too, sundry of the fishing folk had
vowed solemnly that at times they had seen strange
weird figures flitting about on the shores of the island,
and John Goodchild himself,though never very commu-
hicative on such subjects, had more than once dropped
hints of having seen more than he cared to mention.
Anyhow, both he and the other fishermen of the coast
never went nearer to the Witches’ Island than they
could help, and, indeed, seldom alluded to it in their
conversation, recognising it as something which must
exist, but with which it was desirable to have as little
to do as possible. So when Molly Goodchild heard
this strange song sung by such a strange singer, no_
wonder that terror at once struck chill upom her heart,
and she felt sure that some dreadful misfortune had
befallen her husband.

As soon as he had finished - his ands. the Turbot
again relapsed into an uncontrollable fit. of laughter,
which, to Molly Goodchild’s mind, appeared to be
in exceedingly bad taste under the circumstances.
Anxiety for her husband being, however, uppermost
in her mind,.she swallowed the rising wrath which
would have prompted her to tell the Turbot pretty
plainly what she thought of his conduct, and clasping
her hands together in a supplicating attitude, ex-
claimed in.a tone sufficiently pitiful to have melted
the heart of any fish that ever swam in the sea, ‘Oh
please, Mr. Turbot, if anything bad ’s happened to my
man, do tell us what’s to be done for to set things
right again |’
IVv.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 183

 

‘Boil me if I do!’ shouted the fish in reply. ‘Boil
me, and dish me, with lobster sauce into the bargain,
if I tell John Goodchild’s wife how to get back her
husband ! No, no—I know a trick worth two of that.
The rabbits may do as they please, but no fish that is .
worth boiling will help a fisherman’s wife! Sprats and
herrings! the woman must be a fool to ask me!’

‘Fool, yourself, you great ugly fish!’ cried Molly,
now losing her temper. ‘Drat your impudence,
laughing and grinning at other people’s troubles! I
don’t believe a word you say, and I wish you was
cooked and eaten too, that I do!’

At this the Turbot’s fins visibly bristled, and he
answered in the same tone of voice as before : ‘ Believe
or not, as you please, Molly Goodchild, you will find
that the voice of a turbot is as truthful as an angry
woman’s passion is ridiculous; but, anyhow, you can ~
go and see for yourself!’ a

The same thought having crossed Mrs. Goodchild’s
mind while the Turbot was speaking, she had already
determined that her best plan was to go home at once
and ascertain the truth or falsehood of the tale she had
just heard. The instinct of a fisherman’s wife was,
however, still strong within her, and she could not help
thinking how very acceptable a gift-the prophet of
evil would be to her husband. So, having by this
time quite overcome any fear or astonishment which
she might have felt at the first moment of hearing a
fish laugh and speak, she stepped boldly forward
towards the rock on which the creature had placed
himself, exclaiming as she did so, ‘True enough,
Mr. Turbot, I qwd/ see for myself, and you may as well
184 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [Iv.

come along with me and see too, and why not to
market afterwards, I should like to know ?’

Scarcely were the words out of her mouth, when,
as her hand was outstretched towards the rock, it
suddenly opened before her, and to her amazement
she perceived a stream of water inside the cliff, evi-
dently flowing internally down to the sea. Into this
the Turbot, with a hoarse laugh, quietly glided before
her very eyes, and in an instant after disappeared,
whilst the rock closed behind him, and once more
returned to its original condition.

Molly Goodchild opened her eyes wide with
astonishment not unmingled with dismay. For the
thought crossed her mind that a creature with such
power at his command was but too likely to be gene-
rally well informed and to have told the truth re-
garding the fate of herhusband. Evidently, however,
it was useless to wait any longer by the rock,’ and
therefore without further delay, she hurried down the.
track which led to her cottage, and entered the latter
with a heart full of fear.

‘John!’ she cried, as she stepped over the threshold
of the open door; ‘John, my man, where are ye?’

But no voice answered her call, and all within
the cottage was still and silent as the grave. It was
evident that her husband was not there. She went
into the kitchen, but no sound was to be heard save
the steady ticking of the clock, a dreary and melan-
choly sound to an anxious mind, recalling to one as it
does the fact that time goes on just the same in our
misery as in our happiness,.and that it makes very
little difference to the progress of the world around
Iv.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 185

 

us whether we are cheerful or wretched. Then Molly
looked into the little side room in which she and her
husband were wont sometimes to sit when the nets
were drying in the kitchen, and which was full of the
various implements appertaining to the craft of a
fisherman. It was untenanted, however, by human
being, and her search through the rooms upstairs was
equally. fruitless. Then she rushed out again on to
the beach and down to the sea calling ‘John! John!’
at the top of her voice. But no John replied, and
the wind and waves seemed to mock at her as the
one howled round her head and the other crashed
upon the beach before her. The full conviction of
the truth of the Turbot’s story flashed across her
mind, and, regardless alike of wind and wave, Molly
Goodchild threw herself down upon the beach and
burst into a fit of sobbing and crying as if her heart
would break.

I do not know how long she would have con-
. tinued this pleasant occupation, if she had not been
sufficiently sensible to be aware that it could do her
no possible good, and would in no way contribute to
bring back her lost husband. That he was lost she
had no. longer the smallest doubt, and she greatly
feared that he had been taken from her in the manner
related by the laughing fish. What, then, could she
do? Timid as she was in all things concerning the
supernatural, yet her love for her husband was stronger
than even her fear of the witches, and if anyone would
point out to her the way to proceed, she felt that she
had within her the courage to do and dare everything
to regain her lost one,
186 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [rv.

 

So, gathering herself up from the beach, she
began, still sobbing as she did so, to ponder over
the events of the last hour and run over in her mind
everything that had occurred, and every word that
had fallen from the Turbot. Suddenly she gave
a start, as she remembered one expression which
had fallen from that cruel fish, though she had paid
little attention to it at the moment. ‘ The rabbits
may doas they please, he had said, whilst refusing to
assist her in any way with his own advice, and this
appeared to give some clue to a means by which,
possibly, aid might be obtained. Rabbits abounded
in the neighbourhood, and if their agency could in
any way be made available, it ought to be procurable
without much difficulty.

But, alas! what right had the wife of John Good-
child to expect assistance from the furry any more
than from the finny tribe? Had she not often
helped her husband to devour a rabbit pudding, and
looked on him with happy eyes as he smacked his
lips after the dainty bits and the fat slices of bacon
with which she had flavoured the favourite dish?
Must not every rabbit of common feeling entertain a
grudge against those who could thus rejoice in feeding
upon his kind, and had she any right to expect favour
or consideration from this injured and long-suffering
race? Still, the words of the Turbot had doubtless
ameaning, and it might be the case that rabbits took
a different view of their position from that which
would undoubtedly have been taken by men under
similar circumstances. At all events, the experiment
was worth trying, and no harm was likely to result
Iv.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 187

 

from it. But where to go to and what to do were
questions which rather puzzled poor Molly Goodchild,
after she had come to the wise conclusion that it would
be well to go somewhere and to do something.

As she stood doubting and wondering upon the
beach, the thought suddenly came into her head that
although she had lost her husband, there could be no
reason why she should lose her supper into the bargain.
If she had been a fine lady, she might possibly have
begun to cry again, and afterwards have refused food,
bathed her head with eau-de-cologne, fainted, gone
into hysterics, or have done something else equally
useless and ridiculous. But, being only a fisherman’s
wife, and withal very hungry after her long walk, she
was by no means ashamed of her appetite and not at
all disposed to refuse to satisfy its cravings. More-
over, to stand out on the beach for any length of
time when the wind was blowing a gale, was not
particularly pleasant to herself, and could do her
husband no good. Wherefore Molly came to the
determination to go back to the cottage and eat her
supper by herself,.and having adopted this sensible
idea, proceeded at once to put it into execution.

I don’t mean to say that she did not regret her hus-
band’s absence, which she certainly did, but it cannot
be denied that it had but little effect upon her appetite.
She ate heartily, drank her beer with a keen relish,
and never cried again until she had quite finished her
meal. Then the tears began to come into her eyes
as she thought of her trouble, and she wondered what
she could possibly do in order to get back her hus-
band. She remembered that there was a large rabbit
188 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [iv.

 

warren about a mile off over the cliffs, and also that
many of the little animals were to be seen in the
large wood which ran down nearly to the sea at a
break in the cliffs which occurred some mile anda
half along the shore. To neither of these places,
however, could she very well go that night, and
eventually she came to the conclusion that she must
spend a solitary evening, and wait until the morning
light should enable her to take active measures. By
this time the wind had fallen, and the waves beat less
violently upon the beach. The cottage seemed more
lonely than ever, and Molly felt desolate indeed as
she sat by the window gazing out over the sea in the
direction of the Witches’ Island. As she gazed, a
dim light appeared to glimmer along the edge of the
island, as if a boat were moving along close in by
the shore. Presently other lights seemed to flicker
up, and evidently something was _taking place upon
that mysterious shore.

Molly kept her eyes steadily fixed in the same
direction, and fancied that she could see dark figures
flitting to and fro—then they seemed to come down
close to the sea, and after a while the light she had
first seen appeared to leave the island and come
towards the mainland. The eager watcher could for
some time make out nothing in the darkness which
had now fallen upon the sea, but after a little while
she clearly distinguished a boat, rowed by a single
individual, but containing several others seated in the
stern. Nearer and nearer it came, until at last it
touched the beach with the usual harsh, grating noise
of a boat pulled sharply in, and grounded within a
Iv.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 189

 

hundred yards of the spot where Molly Goodchild
was sitting. She peered out into the darkness as well
as she could, but could make out little in the increasing
gloom. Suddenly, however, a vivid flash of lightning
illuminated the whole scene. It was but for the space
of a second, but in that brief time Molly saw enough
to cause her considerable excitement. Four strange
and weird-looking old women had landed on the
beach, for what purpose she could not tell, whilst the |
man who had pulled them across remained sitting in
the boat, and that man was none other than John
Goodchild !

Molly’s first impulse was to rush forth from the
cottage and call loudly upon her husband. But her
limbs refused to do her bidding, and her tongue clove
to the roof of her mouth. She could neither move nor
speak, and continued to gaze upon the scene before
_ her with mingled astonishment and dread. Though
_the darkness still brooded over land and sea, she

could faintly discern the figures of the females, whom
she at once concluded to be witches and nothing else.
Moreover, from time to time a flash of lightning
momentarily lit up the coast, and in one of these
instants she caught sight of her husband’s face as he
sat in the boat, pale and wan, and with an air of spell-
bound quiet which at once, to her mind, corroborated
the Turbot’s story, and told but too surely that he
was under the dominion of the fearful Island Witches.
The latter had moved up somewhat nearer to the
cottage, and having made a place for themselves upon
the beach, deposited upon it certain faggots and pro-
ceeded to light a fire, upon which they placed some-
190 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [iv.

 

thing which looked to Molly Goodchild remarkably
like a‘pie-dish. Such indeed it probably was, and
most likely one of those primitive earthen dishes
which folks of old used to place on their fires in order
to bake the meat within.

However this may be, the fire soon burned up,
and while it cooked the Witches’ meat, gave Molly
a better opportunity of observing their countenances
and general appearance. They were certainly an ill-
looking lot. One had the most awful squint you can
imagine: another had very small eyes, a very thick
nose, and a beard like that of a man; the third was
humpbacked ; and the fourth had her nose slit, and
bore such an evil expression on her face that Molly
thought she was certajnly the ugliest old woman she
had ever set eyes upon.

Whilst their supper was cooking the Witches pro-
duced several black bottles, the contents of which they
poured into drinking-horns and appeareto imbibe
with much satisfaction. Then they poked the fire and
blew it to increase the flame, and turned the pie-dish
round until they seemed to think the inside was
thoroughly cooked, when they proceeded to take it
off the fire, and, dividing it into four portions, began
to devour it ravenously, only stopping to take occa-
sional deep draughts from their horns.

When they had apparently concluded their repast,
the Witches arose and shook the crumbs from their
clothes for all the world as ordinary mortals might
have done, and then, joining hands, danced slowly
round the expiring fire, chanting as they did so ina
slow, monotonous tone. And thus ran their song :—
THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 191

 

I.
‘ The life of an island witch for us,
Harum scarum diddledee dum !
Away from the mainland bother and fuss :
Come to the island—won’t you come?

II.
‘Merry the life which we there do dwell,
Harum scarum diddledee dum !
Though what we all do, we decline to tell:
Come to the island—won’t you come?

III.

‘Shines on the water the glaring sun,
Harum scarum diddledee dum !
Then the wise witches are seen by none :
Come to the island—won’t you come?

Iv.

* But when darkness falls on the rolling wave,
Harum scarum diddledee dum !
Hither we come with our boatman slave :
Come to the island—won’t you come ?

a v.

‘Crafty and brave are the mortal men,
Harum scarum diddledee dum !

Till once they are safe in the witches’ Den:
Come to the island—won’t you come ?

VI.

‘There, though he chance to be lord or knave,
Harum scarum diddledee dum!
Man may be only the witches’ slave :
Come to the island—won’t you come?

VIL

‘See the new slave in the boat sits still,
Harum scarum diddledee dum !

Bound by the spell he must do our will :
Come to the island—won’t you come ??

“ee
192 WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND. ftv.

 

 

Molly had sat listening with terror-stricken ears
to the whole of this song, marvelling greatly at the
whole proceeding. But the latter words changed the
whole current of her ideas, and, for a time at least,
banished terror from her soul. The idea of her hus-
band—her own brave John, who, whatever might be
his faults, had been her first and only love, and a’
faithful husband to her from their first days of mar-
riage—the idea, I say, of her own man being the
obedient slave of four old women—and such ugly old
women, too, into the bargain—left no room in her
mind for anything but rage and indignation. Spring-
ing from her seat by the window she hastened to the
door, unfastened it as quickly as she could, and rushed
frantically out on the beach, shouting as she did so
at the top of her voice, ‘John! John! I say, John!
Come to I directly! ’Tis your own Molly ! Come to
I, John, and drat them witches !’

Now in all. probability Mrs. Goodchild could not
possibly have selected a form of address better calcu-
lated to defeat its own object. Had she sallied forth
with good words in her mouth, or even a good book
in her hands, it is impossible to say what the result
might have been, or how the witches might have
been affected. But the use of the words she uttered,
disrespectful to the witches themselves, and scarcely
elegant or becoming in the mouth of a female, if
indeed in that of anybody else, was indeed but little
likely to have any influence over the evil powers of
magic. As soon as Molly had got outside the cottage
the fire on the beach seemed to go out at once, and

the darkness became more dense than ever, and she
Iv.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 193

only heard a scuffling, shambling sound, as if people,
neither very young nor agile, were hurrying down
to the sea as fast as they were able. Then there
followed the sound of oars dipped in the water and of
a boat going off.

‘John! John! come to I! again shouted poor
Molly ; but the only reply was a stifled groan, as if
some one was making a violent effort to cry out, but
failing signally from some cause unknown, and then
came a low chuckle as of mocking laughter from the
sea.

Molly stood still and listened in despair. The
sound of the oars grew fainter and fainter—the
laughter ceased—and she could hear nothing but the
heavy, dull beating of the waves, which kept on
breaking upon the beach as if they rather liked the
operation and had no. idea of ever leaving off.
Then Molly returned to her cottage with a heart full
of heaviness, and, sitting down upon the floor, fairly
gave way and burst into a regular good fit of crying.
I do not know—neither did she herself—how long
the good woman continued in this state before she
was aroused by a little tapping noise at the window,
and looking sharply up, saw through her tears a small
bird fluttering outside. Without the delay of a mo-
ment she arose and opened the casement, when a
little sandpiper flew i in and perched at once upon the
table. .

Now Molly Goodchild had always entertained a
friendly feeling towards birds in general, and sand-
pipers in particular. Not that there was anything
especially attractive in these’ birds, but they made

oO
194. WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [1Vv.

their nests in the cliffs near the cottage, and were
quite like companions to the good woman sometimes
when her husband was away at sea. True, she had
never interchanged words with any of them, and was
not even aware that they could speak ; nor, indeed, was
it-usual for birds of this sort to come flying up against
the cottage window and peck for admittance. Still,
after the wonderful incident of the Turbot, Molly was
prepared for anything, and it was therefore almost
if not altogether without surprise that she heard the
Sandpiper, after having shaken his damp feathers and
wagged his head once or twice in a knowing manner,
accost her in good English after the following
fashion :—

“Dear Mrs. Goodchild,’ said the bird, ‘I am dis-
tressed—though not surprised—to see how unhappy
you are.’

‘Why, so would you be, my birdie,” answered the
woman at once, ‘if so be that you had a mate carried
off by witches.’

‘Indeed I should, replied the bird ; ‘and it speaks
well for the terms on which you have lived with your
husband that you should miss him so much. But I
do not come to bewail with, but to aid, you. I well
know that you are in great grief, but I also know that
itis a grief which may be remedied. I was flying
past the large wood near the shore just now, and
heard some of the little people talking the matter
over. I heard them say that if you would only go
and consult the Wise Rabbit, who burrows below the
old hollow thorn-tree on the mound, they were quite
sure he could and would help you out of your trouble,
1v.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 195

 

So I thought, as you have always been friendly with
us sandpipers, I would do you a good turn and come
off and tell you at once.’

‘Thank you kindly, birdie) said the grateful wo-
man ; ‘ thank you kindly for your good news. I know
the mound and the thorn-tree too, and I will certainly
go there the very first thing to-morrow morning.
But if my man is really the slave of them wretched
creatures, I’m sure I don’t know what ever I can'do
for to get him back again.’

‘Leave that to the Rabbit!’ cried the Sandpiper.
“And now, as I have done my errand, please to let
me out of the window again, and if you will take my
advice, you will forthwith go quietly to bed,’

Molly, being a sensible woman, saw the wisdom of
this advice at once; she therefore first opened the
window and let her little visitor depart, and then,
feeling very tired, and knowing that she could do no
more that night, turned into bed with as little delay
as possible. There can be little doubt that she
dreamed of witches, turbots, rabbits, and sandpipers
during the night, but truth compels me to declare
that, whether troubled.by dreams or not, she managed
to sleep until the sun had lighted up the sky with
his morning beams, and all nature was again astir.
The wind had lulled in the night, the waves had
ceased to roar, and broke“ peacefully upon the shore,
as if they wished to make friends with it and apolo-
gise for having dashed against it with such vehemence
on the previous night. In short, it was one of those
glorious mornings upon which everything looks its

: ‘ 02
196 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [v.

best, and people really feel that they are alive and that
living is a privilege and a pleasure.

Molly Goodchild was not long in rising and getting
her breakfast, and although she felt lonely without
her husband, she was cheered by the thought that she
was about to takea step which, if all went well, might
lead to his recovery. The Turbot had first turned
her thoughts in the direction of the rabbits, and the
kind little Sandpiper had just put her on the right
scent as to.the particular quarter in which she should
enquire. His words had reminded her that among
the scattered trees of the wood which I have already
mentioned as stretching down to the shore, in a large
valley formed by a break in the cliffs, there was a
thorn-tree around which were several rabbit-holes.
There was a clear space of green turf, in the middle
of which, upon a species of mound, stood this tree,
which was one of gyeat antiquity, the very place for
a Wise Rabbit to inhabit, if such an animal there
were. As to this fact Molly would have been doubtful
only the day before, but the scenes which she had
witnessed made her ready to believe anything ; and
if a Turbot could laugh and sing, and a Sandpiper
talk English like a native, why should not.a Rabbit
know as much as either of them? So Molly made
ready directly after breakfast, put on her bonnet and
shawl, and trudged away along the shore in the
direction of the wood, which she reached without
adventure.

Ascending the valley for a short distance, she
presently approached the green space which has been
already mentioned, and as she drew near, saw several
THE WITCHES’ ISLAND, 197

 

 

rabbits basking in the morning sunlight outside their
holes. These animals, however, behaved after the
usual manner of their race. Some disappeared im-
mediately beneath the surface of the earth, others
sat up, drummed violently and nervously upon the
‘ground with their forefeet, as if to give their friends
warning of the approach of a stranger, and then
dived into their holes also; while some went down
more slowly, leaving their heads visible above the
earth as if they left the sun’s rays with reluctance,
then gradually drawing their heads downwards until
only the tips of their ears were to be seen, and finally
disappearing just as Molly set foot upon the outside
of the roots of the old thorn-tree round which were
their dwellings. These roots extended for some little
way, forthe thorn-tree was large as well as old, and
Molly paused as soon as she had reached the first
rabbit’s hole.

To tell the truth, now for the first time it struck
her that she did not know how to obtain from the
Wise Rabbit the information and aid she desired.
In that part of the world rabbits were not generally
inthe habit of communicating freely with mankind,
from whom, indeed, they usually fled, and those of
the race who inhabited the earths around the thorn-
tree appeared to be no exception to the general rule.
Moreover, she did not understand the Rabbit lan-
guage, and had not the least idea how to address
the ariimal she sought, so as to make him understand
what she wanted.” So. she stopped at a few yards’
distance from the tree, and stood in doubt and hesita-
tion as to what she should do next. However, as
198 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. {iv.

she had come to that place for a certain purpose, she
determined not to depart without at least an effort to.
accomplish it, and therefore, after a few moments’
thought, she spoke as follows :—

‘Wise Rabbit, if so be that you live here, can you
tell ‘me what to do for to get my John back ?’

_A faint breeze seemed to rustle the leaves of the
old thorn-tree, and to sigh gently through the air, as
almost immediately a voice replied, which seemed to
come from the very tree itself, and was, though clear,
a thin, weak voice, such as might have been expected
to proceed from a person whose vital powers were
weakened by age or illness ; and this is what it said :—

 

 

‘The rabbits are an ancient race
Of very noble birth,
From mortal men they hide their face
Beneath their mother Earth.
For cruel man their race pursues
With snare, and dog, and-gun,
So, lest they prematurely lose
Their lives, away they run.
Yet though thy friends this race oppress,
Some succour shalt thou find, Q
Since, ever, to relieve distress
Is worthy of our kind.
And though, as I have said before,
To man no thanks we owe,
A witch ten thousand times the more
We count our deadly foe.
Between us there is constant war,
For hundreds yearly die,
Because for food a witch by far
Prefers a rabbit-pie.
And so revenge we love to take
(Although the gain be man’s),
And cause the witches’ hearts to ache
By thwarting all their plans,’
tv.] THE WITCHES? ISLAND. 199.

Here the voice stopped, and Molly derived some
satisfaction from its words, inasmuch as they assured
her that the rabbits had reasons of their own for
hating the witches, and she was wise enough to know
that however kindly people may be disposed towards
others, they usually act with more vigour and zeal if
some motive of self-interest be added: But although
the words she had heard were so far reassuring,
Molly had not as yet been told what she was to do in
order to rescue her husband from the power of the
witches, and the fondness of the latter for rabbit-pie
was of itself a circumstance which interested the good
woman in a very small degree. So when the speaker
came to an end, Molly became impatient, and without
waiting many seconds, took up the conversation in
her own way.

“Aye, they’re a bad lot, them witches, so they are ;
but what be I to do for to sarcumvent them, Master
Rabbit ?’

And then the same voice uttered the following
words :—
; ‘By a witch when a man is enslaved
In an awkward condition is he,

' And perils immense must be braved.

By those who’d again set him free.

Yet things still more hard may be done

By a rabbit’s invincible guile,

If the risk thou art ready to run,
" And face the old hags on their isle !’

As the voice paused here, apparently expecting an
answer, Molly at once boldly replied: ‘Face ’em on
their isle!‘ aye, Rabbit, that I will, and scratch their
eyes out, too, if I .get a chance, for carrying off my
John!’ .
200 WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND. (iv.

 

_ Upon this a low chuckle of approbation proceeded
from the old tree, and the voice again made itself
heard to the listening ears of the anxious woman.

’ ¢Thirst and hunger are hard when unslaked,
But your husband to lose is still harder,
Though like rabbits he may not be baked,
Or hung by the legs in a larder.
* But now to my words if you list,
Bright hope in your heart may rekindle ;
Agairt by your John you'll be kiss’d,
‘ And the witches you'll certainly swindle.
A boat you must take to the isle,
Where mortals have scarce been before you,
And take all precautions, meanwhile,
Lest the witches by magic come o’er you,
For monsters, no doubt, they will send
To fright you with grinning and frowning,
But never turn back, or you'll end
Your fortunes directly by drowning,
Before you launch out on the seas
Take one of your husband’s old jackets,
For the pocket of which, if you please,
I will presently give you three packets.
* Number one,” ‘number two,” ‘¢number three,”
On each you will see its own label ;
And mightily useful they’ll be,
If to follow my orders you’re able.
These orders I’ve written in prose,
Your intellect carefully priming,
For ne’er a wise rabbit but knows
What blunders may happen from rhyming !’

The voice ceased, and immediately afterwards three
packets, apparently thrown by an invisible hand from
the middle of the old thorn-tree, fell at Molly’s feet.
They were carefully done up in brown paper and
labelled as the voice had stated, the words being
Iv.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 201

written in a large school-boy hand and being unmis-
takably clear. .

_ There was also an envelope tied on to one of the
packets, on which was written in the same hand,
‘Mrs. Goodchild’s Directions; so that everything
was as plain as possible. There were several other
things, however, which Molly was anxious to know.
Supposing she got to the island, what should she
do next? There were evidently dangers to be en-
countered before she did get there, but what was to
happen afterwards? Struck by this thought, and
with the absolute necessity of knowing something
more about it, Molly took courage to ask, as the
most likely way of obtaining the information she
wanted.

‘Thank you, indeed, Mr. Rabbit,’ said she in her
most respectful tone, ‘for what you have already
done ; but will you tell me what be I to do if so be as
I get safe on to the island ?’

‘To her great joy the voice replied at once :—

 

‘One word of power to thee I tell,
Potent to break the witches’ spell, ‘
Eat not—drink not—nor look behind
Lest evil consequence ye find.

Be firm yet civil ; should they spare

_ Thy husband to thee then and there,
Come back at once, let no delay
Or wish for vengeance clog thy way.
But should they thy request deny,
Their malice thou canst still defy ;
For ifin danger or distress,

Say boldly ¢zen—but not unless—
‘¢Whurlmone !” The magic word of might
More than all else will help thee right
«

202 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. + [Iw-.

 

Molly had listened with the utmost attention to this
speech, and was exceedingly glad that ‘she had asked
the question. Still, she did not feel very certain what
she should do when once upon the Witches’ Island,
and determined to ask for still further and more par-
ticular orders. But not another word, good, bad, or
indifferent, could she extract from the Wise Rabbit.
So, after a while, she left off trying, took up the three
‘packets with great care, and returned to the cottage
without further delay. When she had arrived there,
she sat down and thought carefully over all that had
passed, calling to mind as well as she could the exact
words which had fallen from her thorn-tree adviser.
Then she deliberately opened the envelope which was
addressed to herself, and read the directions therein
contained. The first was easily to be comprehended
and required no explanation :

‘Do nothing until after dinner,’

As Molly was somewhat tired with her walk in the
sun, and it was then getting towards eleven o'clock,
_she was by no means indisposed to take this first

piece of advice, especially as, according to the habits
of the labouring classes in that part of the world, she
usually dined soon after noon. Then there followed
some directions of a more dubious and elaborate
character.

‘Row gently, but stop for no one.

Packet ‘‘ number one” is for Babeface the Skate.

Packet ‘‘number two” is for Grimjaw the Dog-fish.
Packet ‘‘ number three” is for Scareman the Devil-fish.’

These were words which Molly entirely failed to

\
 

_ Iv] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 203

a i

understand ; but having by this time arrived at a state
of complete confidence in her counsellors, she made
up her mind to observe all the directions faithfully,
and leave to those wiser than herself the task of show-
ing to her the moment at which she was to act in
any particular manner.

So, first and foremost, she busied herself in pre-
parations for her dinner, and when the hour for that
repast had arrived, sat down and ate as heartily as
could have been expected under the circumstances.
Having done this, she went into a little shed attached
to the cottage, in which a couple of boats were always
kept, one of which was of a small and manageable
size for her powers of rowing. This, without much
difficulty, she pushed down to the water’s edge.
Then she fetched one of her husband’s old jackets,
put it on, and placed in the pockets the three packets
which she had received. Next she provided herself
with oars, and having ascertained that she had every-
thing in the boat necessary for her trip, launched
boldly forth upon the sea, and pulled straight towards
the Witches’ Island.

The sun was shining brightly above her head, and
the sea was calm and as clear as crystal, a mighty -
contrast indeed to its appearance on the previous
evening. As she looked over the boat’s side she
could see quantities of fish darting about here and
there, or sailing quietly round her as if wondering
who it was that was invading their domain, and mak-
ing such a splashing noise above their heads. Sud-
denly, however, a change came over the face of the
deep. Molly’s boat had got about half-way between.
204. WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [iv.

 

the mainland and its destination, when a little wind
began to rise and a ripple to come upon the surface
of the sea. Gradually, too, the sun seemed to become
dim, and a kind of twilight shade stole over the
heavens, much as if it had been an hour after sunset
instead of two o'clock in the middle of the day. Still
Molly rowed. bravely on, when, without any previous
warning, a voice close behind her boat called out in
accents of despair, ‘ Stop! stop! pray pick me up! I’m
drowning !’

Now Molly was a woman of’ tender heart, and
under ordinary circumstances would not have hesi-
tated to do as she was requested, and make every
effort to save the person who thus accosted her. For-
tunately, however, the written directions of the Rabbit
were still vividly impressed upon her recollection.
Moreover, she knew very well that she had passed
nobody hitherto in her passage, and if anybody had
been swimming so close to her boat as the voice
seemed to be, it was impossible but that she must
have seen that ‘anybody.’ So she continued to row,
perhaps a trifle more slowly for an instant, and then
at the same pace as before, gently but steadily, en-
tirely disregarding the voice and its request.

In another moment or two another voice, appa-
rently just in front of her boat, shouted, ‘ Look ahead !
you can’t pass here!’

Molly glanced round, still gently rowing on, and
seeing nobody in the way, still rowed on at the same
pace. But the water now grew rougher, and the
waves dashed against the little boat as if they would
swamp it. Somehow or other, though, they did not
1v.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND, 205

 

fill her, and she rode gallantly on the crest of the
waves, although, now on one side, now on the other,
she bowed before their force and seemed as if nothing
could prevent her from filling and sinking. Nothing
daunted, Molly rowed steadily forward, and looked
neither to the right ngr the left. She was now within
little more than a Wicca yards from the island,
when, suddenly an enormous Skate reared itself out of
the water quite close to her with its mouth wide open,
presenting an appearance more repulsive than she had
supposed possible even in one of those remarkably
ugly creatures. ‘Come below, Molly!’ it said, as it
yawned with a palpable wish that she should jump
down its throat, which was the very last thing she
would ever have thought of doing. Stretching out
her right hand, while still rowing with the left, though
of course very softly, and only so as just to keep the
boat in motion, she took from her husband’s jacket
the packet marked number one, and threw it quietly
. into the creature’s mouth.

The effect was instantaneous. The packet burst
as it entered the place into which it was thrown, and
evidently contained a powder of an explosive cha-
racter. With a sound like the popping of a thousand
soda-water bottles all at once, the unhappy Skate
blew up instantaneously, and sank below the waters
in many pieces. Molly had not taken more than.a
second or -two in the performance of her part of this
drama, and went on rowing as unconcernedly as if
nothing had happened. It was startling, certainly,

, but after all a skate was nota fish of much account, and
~

206 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [1v.

 

she was delighted to have so satisfactorily tested the
efficacy of the Rabbit’s powders.

Within a very short distance, however, another
interruption took place. A huge Dog-fish, of fierce
and brutal appearance, reared his head out of the
water, and in an awful voice shouted, ‘ Look out for —
Grimjaw!’ as he made a snap at her right-hand oar,
which, had he succeeded in catching hold of, he would
undoubtedly have severed in two, and thus seriously
-impeded her progress. Most luckily, however, he
missed it by a hair’s breadth, and in another instant
packet number two was in his mouth. Bursting as
it entered his jaws, it filled them completely with a
quantity of the strongest glue, which was not only
unpleasant to taste and smell, and nearly choked him
at once, but, on his first snapping his teeth to pre-
vent more of the nauseous stuff coming therein, held
them together as with a vice, and in fact stopped his
jaw in a prompt and effectual manner.

On rowed Molly, better satisfied than ever: with
the result of her journey, as far as it had gone, and
in most excellent hopes of success. She was now
scarcely thirty yards from the island, when there arose
from the sea the most awful creature which she had ever
seen in the shape of a fish. Its head was more ugly
. than she had supposed possible, its mouth was armed
with a double row of teeth, sharp as a needle, and
evidently strong enough to make short work of any
creature upon which they were once fastened ; it had
little arms instead of ordinary fins, and a tail of
mighty power, which it swung viciously to and fro as
if to stir itself up to action,
 

|
b

iv.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. ° 207

The sight of this terrible thing, which Molly at
once came to the conclusion was the ‘Devil-fish’
alluded to in the Rabbit’s directions, was almost
enough to have frightened any ordinary person into
afit. With a kind of hissing roar the dreadful creature
launched itself against the side of the boat, and
accosting the astonished Molly in her own language,
remarked in a gruff and decidedly unpleasant voice,
‘You are mine, woman! you are mine! No mortal
woman can touch this island. You shall make a meal
for Scareman,’

The mouth of the hideous monster was so close to °
her that Molly had scarcely time to perform the act
by which alone she couJd hope to be delivered from
his attack. She was jus¢ able, and only just, to seize
packet number three and hurl it into his mouth, and
had she been a second later it would have gone hard
with her. But the packet was no less valuable to her
and fatal to her adversary jthan the others had proved
before it. Like them, it burst as soon as it touched
the open mouth of the fish, which it completely filled
with sulphuric acid. Ina moment his face changed
to a woful expression of fishlike despair, and he sank
like a log tothe bottom of the sea and was seen no

‘more. Thus, then, her three packets had each de-

livered her from a formidable foe, and the fisherman’s
wife felt that the power and friendship of the rabbits
had not failed her.

THere was still, however, much to be done, and
her main diffitulty at the moment was to decide
what to do when she had landed. She was: now

. within a dozen yards of the island, which at that
4. ,
208 WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND. [Iv.

part was girt with a fringe of reeds, into which she
could easily run her boat and step out upon the
shore. Her natural impulse would have been to stop
and look out for some natural landing place, but as
she had been told on no account to stop rowing, she
deemed it best to go straight on, and in another
minute the boat made its way into the reeds,.and
could go no farther. Molly rose, and having laid
down her oars, stepped lightly forward and jumped
from the boat on to the shore. It was somewhat dif-
ferent from that which she had quitted.

A grass bank came quite down to the water, and
upon this she at once set her feet. Some twenty
yards before her was a wood of low, stunted oaks, ~
extending on either side for some distance, but never
nearer to the sea. The trees appeared as if they had
most of them been struck by lightning, or exposed to,
some blighting influence which had dwarfed their
growth, and rendered their foliage unnaturally sere
and yellow. Ever and anon great rocks of a dark
grey hue, o’ergrown by a coarse kind of moss, rose
abruptly among the low trees, which were by no
means thickly planted, and here and there a tall
cedar or Scotch fir reared its head on high, looking as
bare as trees could look, and giving a somewhat wild
appearance to the place. All was still and silent as
the grave, and although the wind had fallen again
and the sea was calm, the sun had not again re-asserted
his right to shine, but twilight was still reigning over
the face of the earth.

When she found herself safe. on shore, Molly
Goodchild stood still, in great doubt as to her next
Iv.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 209

 

movement. Whilst she hesitated she heard a kind of
low twittering noise behind her, and looking round,
perceived a sight which filled her with surprise. At
a few yards distant from the spot at which she had
landed, there was a break of several yards in the reeds
which girt the shore, and this was occupied by a bed
of light-coloured sand, sloping down from the green
bank to the water. Upon this bank were assembled
a great multitude of shrimps, among whom were a
few prawns, who had apparently left their native
element for purposes of festivity. Standing upon
their tails, this multitude of small fishes was engaged
in dancing, tumbling about, and jostling one another
after the most curious fashion, and to all appearance
enjoying themselves exceedingly. As they danced
they sang, and Molly listened with attention to’ the
words of their ditty, although their shrill and small
voices rendered it somewhat difficult to interpret their
meaning.
.¢ Fisherman John he is fast spell-bound ;
Ho! Ha! Fisherman John!
Where would another poor woman be found
Such a fool’s errand to journey upon !
Molly has followed the watery track ;
Ho,.! Ha! Fisherman John !
Thinks she to get her poor fisherman back ?
Vainly his jacket she’s ventured to don !
Joy to the fishes, the small and the great,
Spell-bound is Fisherffian John !

Loudly they joy at their enemy’s fate,
Now for the villain escape there is none!’ -

Molly understood quite enough of this song to

“render it very unpleasant to her ears, and what made

it all the more so was the circumstance of its being
P
210 WHISPERS FROM YAIRVLAND. [Iv.

sung by what she called ‘a parcel of little hgp-i-my-
thumb creatures,’ such as she had often eaten on
bread and butter, three or four at a mouthful, for her
tea, and thought nothing of it. In fact, as she gazed
upon them, she could not help thinking how much
better the little things looked boiled than when alive
in the water, and heartily wishing that she could
sweep the whole lot of them into one of her husband’s
trawling nets: this however was impossible at the
moment, and her meditation was broken in upon by
another incident of a very different character.

Walking along the bank, and coming directly
towards her, were three ladies dressed in the height
of fashion. They had such small bonnets upon their
heads that you could scarcely tell whether they were
bonnets at all, or only a few feathers fastened together
upon the hair, especially as they had no strings upon
them. Their dress was altogether such as I cannot
pretend to describe, not being used to the sort of
thing, but if any young gentleman who reads this
story will consider which of his sisters dresses best in
the London season, he will be able to form some
idea of the appearance of the three persons who now
approached Molly Goodchild. Nearer and nearer
they came, and wore sweet smiles upon their faces as
they accosted the fisherman’s wife.

‘Good woman,’ said one of them, fixing upon
Molly a pair of eyes which were bright with an un-
natural light which made her almost tremble in spite
of herself, ‘how came you here? Not but what
you are very welcome. Come into the wood-walks
with us, and you shall see how pleasant the island is,’
Iv.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 21r

 

‘No, thank you, Ma’am,’ replied Molly with a re-
spectful curtsey ; ‘I be come upon business and aint:
got no time to go pleasure-seeking,’

‘Oh! but you really must come) cried the
second, advancing a step nearer; ‘and if you should
like the place well enough to live with us, it so hap-
pens that we are in want of a cheerful companion,
and might very likely engage youif we could come to
terms.’

‘Ay, observed the third, ‘and you shall be
dressed in fine clothes as we are, and live in clover
-and have everything of the best.’

As they spoke, the three ladies all looked eagerly
upon Molly, and she felt a kind of curious sensation
as she remarked the strange, weird brightness of their
eyes, and a certain wistful expression of pain which
seemed to be stamped upon the countenance of each.
I will not say that the vision of fine clothes and good
victuals, without toil or trouble to obtain either, might
not have had some momentary attraction for the
fisherman’s wife. But the thought of her John,
stolen or charmed from her, and of the dangers of
the place in which she was, was instantly present
with her. -So she boldly relinquished any latent
inclination she might have had to entertain the pro-
posal made to‘her, and with a firm and bold voice
replied: ‘No, I thank you, ladies, I be come here
for my John: Goodchild by name and fisherman by
trade, and if I get him back I don’t care for none 0’
them things you talk of’

Upon this all three of those she addressed cried

out with one volte. ‘Oh the brazen-faced hussey !’ said-
P2
212 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [tv.

 

the first. ‘Hear the impudent jade!’ cried the second.
‘Look at the vile creature!’ shrieked the third; and
as they spoke they all rushed together upon Molly,
as if to punish her for her prompt rejection of their
proposals.

The time for action had evidently come. ‘ Wharl-
mone!’ exclaimed Molly in a loud voice, and no
sooner was the word out of her mouth than a wonder-
ful change came over the beings she addressed.
Their fine clothes turned into shabby old gowns, their
smart bonnets became hideous caps of an antiquated
fashion, from beneath which scattered grey hairs
streamed out as they started back, and in place of
three fashionable ladies, there appeared before Molly
three wrinkled old hags who turned their backs upon
her without more ado, and fled away into the wood
as fast as they were able.

Molly stared with astonishment at this strange
occurrence, but became more than ever convinced of
the dangerous character of the island as wellas of the
power of the Wise Rabbit. As it was evidently useless
to stand still, she thought she had better take the
only other alternative, and move on. She therefore
turned to the right, and walked along the shore,
calling from time to time to her husband in hopes of
an answer. ‘John Goodchild! John, I say! John!’
were the words with which she made the island shore
re-echo as she walked on by the sea.

But no John replied to her call. The waves
rippled gently against the shore, the same shades of
twilight hung over the island, and the wind softly
rustled in the leaves of the oak-trees, but no living
Iv.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 213

 

creature appeared, and Molly knew not what to do
or whence to seek for aid. She must have wandered
on in this way for half a ‘mile or more, when she
began to think that it was evidently no use to look
for her husband by the sea, and that there was nothing
for it but to make up her mind to go boldly into the
interior of the island. Scarcely had she come to this
conclusion when she perceived a path leading from the
shore in an inland direction. It was not a very wide
path, but quite wide enough for one person to wall
on, and it was apparently the only road on that side
of the island from which the wood could be entered.
So Molly boldly turned up this path and moved
forward, still calling upon John as she advanced.
Presently the wood grew thicker, the oaks appeared
to be less stunted, ivy plants of great size clung round
them, immense creepers interlaced their branches,
thick bramble-bushes and low-growing thorn-trees
filled the intervening spaces, and Molly could see little
either to her right or left as she advanced along the
path. Suddenly, her attention was attracted to a
large board fixed upon a tree at the side of the
path, upon which was inscribed in large letters, ‘No
thoroughfare! trespassers in these woods will be
prosecuted as the law directs. Whilst on another
board immediately below the following startling in-
formation was given to the traveller: ‘Man traps
and spring-guns in these woods!’ Molly stopped for
an instant in surprise. This all seemed so very like
what she had seen in certain localities on the main-
land, that she could hardly believe she was in the
Witches’ Island. They could certainly have no need
214 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND, [iv.

Yh
of the law to enforce their rights, and she would have
thought that they would naturally have steered as
clear of it as they could. When she read the second
notice she gave a heavy sigh.

“Ay, she said, ‘ sure enough, man-traps there be,
for my John has been caught here; but for all that
T’'ll get him back. Law orno law, I must search till I
find my man!’ and again she loudly shouted, ‘John !
John Goodchild!’ at the top of her voice.

This time she was not left without an answer.
‘There he is!’ cried a voice apparently a little way in
front of her. She moved hastily forward. ‘ Here he
is!’ called out another voice which seemed to come
from behind her; and similar voices gave utterance to
the same words on her right hand and on her left.

‘Where ?’ exclaimed Molly. ‘Where is he?
Where are you, John ?’ ¥

‘Here!’ ‘Here!’ ‘Here!’ cried the voices again
from all quarters, and then peals of wild, mocking
laughter rang through the air, and all was again silent.

As may be easily imagined, Molly felt entirely be-
wildered, and, moreover, a sensation akin to fear stole
over her when she heard these unearthly sounds. But
she summoned up all her courage, and took several
steps forward, exclaiming as she did so, ‘John! John!
’Tis I, your own wife Molly. Come to I!’ Again the
same wild laughter sounded in her ears, but she saw
nothing, and began to despair of succeeding in her
mission.

At that moment, however, she heard a fluttering
of wings almost close to her, and before she had time
to turn round, a bat flew quickly past her, dropping

 
Iv.] THE WITCHES?’ ISLAND. 215

 

as he did so a letter, which fell at her feet. _ Stooping
down, she saw with some surprise that it was directed
to her, at least the words, ‘For Molly’ were written
on the envelope, and this could certainly mean no
one else. So she opened it without delay, and found
these words :—

-‘Dear Wife,—I am very well and very happy. It
is quite a mistake to suppose that witches are bad
people. The ladies who live in this island and whom
we have always called witches, are charming people
and very kind to me. Make friends with them if you
can, it will be better for both of us, and you will be
glad afterwards.

‘Your affectionate husband,
‘JOHN GOODCHILD,’

Never had Molly been so much astonished in her
life as at the perusal of this letter. The advice which
it contained appeared extraordinary, the manner in
which it had been delivered was, to say the least of it,
unusual, and, coupling it with the invitation given her
by the three strange beings whom at her first landing

_she had encountered in the shape of well-dressed
ladies, she felt that there was evidently a design on
the part of the witches to afford her, as well as her
husband, a permanent residence on the island. ;

But, as Molly was no fool, she not only regarded
with suspicion the advice contained in the letter, but
entertained the gravest doubts with respect to the
letter itself Had it really come from John? he had
never written her such a letter before in all his life.
Indeed, writing was not an art in which he at all ex-
»
216 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [rv.

celled, and the well-written copy-book-like hand in
which this letter was written was as different from
John Goodchild’s zig-zag tumble up-and-down scrawl
as chalk from cheese. The spelling too, which had
never been John’s strong point, was, as far as Molly
could judge, quite right all through the letter, and
there was not a single smudge or blot on the whole
paper. This last point quite decided Molly’s opinion.
Throwing the letter down upon the ground she con-
temptuously kicked it with her foot, and exclaimed
at the same time, ‘ My John never sent no such letter
as that, not he.’ :

This little incident put Moliy, if possible, even
more on her guard than she had been before. It was
evident that the enemy was now dealing with her
rather by fraud and guile than by open violence, and
she determined to be. doubly careful. She thought
carefully over the words of the Wise Rabbit, and
remembered that she had just now very nearly dis-
obeyed his injunctions by looking behind her when the
bat flew up from that direction. But it was difficult
not to look behind as well as before and on each side,
when her object was to discover her husband, and
for the last half hour she had seen no one who could
tell her anything about him. However, at that
moment the path led her into a new scene, which
made her for the moment forget the letter and its
advice. An oak-tree larger than its neighbours stood
so close to the path that a portion of the latter was
occupied by its trunk, past which Molly saw she
would have to brush if she wished to go any farther.
As she came within a few feet of it, a voice suddenly
IV. THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 217

 

issued from the tree, and addressed her in the
following manner, singing new and strange words to
the tune of a song which she had often heard her
husband carol forth in his manly tones in former
happy days :—

L

‘John Goodchild one day
From the mainland did stray,
Saying, ‘‘ Barren and dreary is my land,
*Twould be much more jolly
To quit melancholy,
And dwell on yon beautiful island.”
Oh ! ’tis a sweet little island!
The witches they live on the island ;
They heard what he asked
On the beach while he basked,
And took him to live on their island!

Il.

* His wife was from home

When he hither did come,

Or scarce he’d have ventured to try land;
But the sea he’s now left,
And his wife, all bereft,

Comes to drag him away from our island.
Oh ! ’tis a nice little island !

Come, Molly and live on the island !
Come, nothing loth,
There is room for you both,

And you’re welcome to stop in the island !

Ill.

‘Both, well shall we treat ;
You'll have plenty to eat,
And have no occasion to buy land ;
For yours it will be,
Both the earth and the sea,
If you stay in this beautiful island.
218 WHISPERS FROM FAIRWLAND. [iv.

 

Oh! ’tis a beautiful island !
Pray, Molly, stay in the island.
Listen to me ;
Happy you'll be,
If only you stay in the island.

Iv.
‘But if you desire
That John should retire
And go with you back to that nigh land,
T vow and declare,
And solemnly swear,
You shan’t take him off from the island.
Oh ! ’tis a dear little island !
John is so fond of the island !
Do what you will
John stops here still,
And never goes back from our island !’

Molly listened with open ears to this song, which
plainly showed that the policy of the witches was still
the same. Evidently they intended to keep her hus-
band if they could, and were for tempting her by every
possible device from continuing her endeavours to get
him back. But two thoughts occurred to Molly as
she listened and considered the meaning of this song
and the reason of its being sung. One was that the
witches could not. really be very desirous of her
company, even if they really would treat her as kindly
as they promised. For, in the first place, had they
been of friendly disposition towards her, they would
not have carried off her husband and left her alone,
without any invitation to follow, or information as to
where they had taken him; and secondly, it struck
her, that they must know her to be under the pro-
tection of beings more powerful than themselves, and
to be worth conciliating, otherwise it was most im-
 

1V.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 21g

 

probable that they would make these tempting and
flattering proposals to one who had, unasked and in
spite of opposition, invaded their island and penetrated
the woods from which trespassers were so carefully
warned. So the effect of the song was to make Molly
more determined than ever to persevere, and not to
lose heart in her attempt to recover her lost John.

Had she been a better-educated woman, she would
' probably have replied to the songster of the oak after
the same fashion in which she had been addressed,
and perhaps have stung him or her with terse and
epigrammatic verse, so that matters might have been
brought to a crisis without further delay. But Molly
lived in days when the advantages of a high educa-
tion for the working classes had not been fully appre-
ciated. She could read and write and knew enough
of sums to be able to manage her husband’s accounts
‘to his and her satisfaction. Moreover she could do
plain cooking, roast a bird or joint, broil or fry a fish,
and make a pudding against any fisherman’s wife in
the neighbourhood. And, in those dull times, these
‘practical accomplishments were thought sufficient for
persons in Molly’s station in life and they rarely
aspired beyond them.

So she made no attempt to answer in rhyme, nor
did it once enter her head to undertake such a task,
in which, if she had done so, she would undoubtedly
have failed. She merely waited until the song was
finished and then marched calmly on, brushing past
‘the oak as if nobody was there, or, at all events,
nobody whom it concerned her to notice. She had
not gone many steps farther, when an enormous
220 WHISPERS FROM FAYRYLAND.. [iv.

 

 

hedgehog placed itself in the path before her and
obstructed the way. It was_as big as an ordinary
mastiff, with bristles of proportional length, and a
snout of remarkably disagreeable and threatening
appearance.

Altogether, a more unpleasant animal to meet in
a narrow path could hardly be imagined, and there it
stood, as if its object and intention was to prevent
Molly from going on. For a moment she hesitated—
“the creature looked so repulsive, and it was impossible
to pass without touching him. Pass, however, she
must, and it was no use being afraid now, after all
that had happened. Molly felt, indeed, that she was
fairly ‘in for it, and that the time for doubt and
hesitation was over. So she stepped boldly up to
the hedgehog, just as if he had been one of ordinary
size, whom she could kick out of her way.

She was within a yard of him when, to her extreme
astonishment, he utterly disappeared, and instead of
him a gigantic snake coiled itself up in the path a
little farther on. Unable, however, to see why a
snake should not be treated in the same way as a
hedgehog, and feeling more than ever confident in the
power of her Protectors, Molly walked resolutely on ;
and the snake presently vanished like the other, his
place being taken by a toad of wonderful size. He, .
however, failed to frighten the fisherman’s wife any
more than those who had gone before him, and she
pressed forward until the path led her out into an
open space, where other and surprising sights greeted
her wondering eyes.

A table was set in the middle of the place, covered

‘
 

 

 

ISLAND

’

THE WITCHES
 

|

 

Iv.] : THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 22r

 

with the good things of this world in great abundance.
Fish, meat, pastry, cheese ; all were there in sufficient
quantity to have feasted a regiment. Flowers and
fruit were scattered in profusion all over the table,
gay festoons of the former hung from the branches of
the surrounding trees, and flags were streaming in the
air on every side. All around the table were chairs,
placed for those who had the honour of partaking of
that feast, and in those chairs were seated some dozen
or more ladies, dressed in different costumes, and
apparently bent on enjoying themselves as much as
possible. They were waited upon by such waiters as
Molly had never before seen or heard of as acting in
that capacity. A number of cats, each in livery, ran
nimbly round the table upon. their hind legs, handing
the dishes and offering them to each guest with re-
spectful alacrity. Each cat had a napkin in its paw,
and was in every respect dressed as a footman should
be. One, larger and fatter than the rest, evidently
acted as butler. He was a great tom cat, who bore
himself in a manner entirely corresponding with the
high dignity to which he had attained, and confined
himself principally to helping the guests to wine,
which he did continually and with much regularity.
But the most extraordinary thing of all has yet to
be related. Seated in alarge arm-chair at. the head of
the table was a real and veritable Donkey. Yes: from
head to tail, feet, ears, skin, everything was undoubtedly
real about him, and there the animal was seated as
comfortably as possible. More than this, however, he
appeared to be the object of general attraction on
the part of the ladies present. Not only did those
222 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [Iv.

 

who were sitting at table repeatedly nod and bow to
him, drink his health, and make him pretty speeches
every other minute, but several more, standing close
to his chair, showed. such a desire to supply all his
wants, that it was quite superfluous for the servants to
wait upon him at all. One lady, fashionably attired
in a blue silk dress with an expensive lace shawl
‘negligently thrown over her shoulders, held a parasol
over the beast’s head to shield him from the rays of
the sun, which, as the sun had not re-appeared, seemed
to Molly rather an unnecessary measure of precaution.
Another kept filling his glass and trying to pour the
wine down his throat even before he was ready for it.
A third stood anxiously waiting to change his plate;
whilst a fourth was busily engaged in placing a garland
of flowers upon his head.

Molly stared in the greatest astonishment at the.
sight of so extraordinary a spectacle, the meaning of
which she could in no way make out to her own
satisfaction. She had not long to stare, however, for
as soon as she had stepped forth from the path into
the open space, a cry arose from the ladies at the
table, half-a-dozen of whom shouted out all at once,
‘Here comes dear Mrs. Goodchild at last! Good
morning, Mrs. Goodchild! Pray come and join our
party ; we are so glad to see you!’

In spite of all that had already happened, Molly
was entirely confused and astonished at this reception.
It was all so different from what she had expected.
She thought she should have had to encounter dangers,

- threats, perhaps bodily suffering, before she could
attain the object of her wishes. Instead of this, how-
Iv.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 223

 

ever, it seemed that the witches (if they really were
witches) were all milk and honey in their dealings
with her, and whatever their ultimate intentions might
be, they certainly showed no desire to do her evil, now
that she was fairly in the island, whatever they might
have had to do with.the marine monsters who had
opposed her landing.

Still, she remembered the old proverb that ‘All
is not gold that glitters,” and moreover she bore in
mind the caution of the Wise Rabbit that she was
not to eat or drink upon the island. Therefore she
determined that she would not yield to the blandish-
ments of the beings before her. Encouraged, how-
ever, by her momentary silence and apparent hesita-
tion, several of them rose from their places and held
out towards her dishes containing various eatables,
which at that moment, after her row and her walk,
would have been decidedly, acceptable to the good
woman. Moreover, at a sign from one of the party,
several of the cats advanced towards her with wine
and cake, and one sorely tempted her with acup of tea
and some remarkably nice-looking slices of bread and
butter. But Molly was proof against it all. She
looked straight at the table and exclaimed in a clear
voice but with a manner perfectly respectful, ‘I thank
ye kindly, ladies, but I don’t want nothing only my
man John.—John Goodchild! where be you?’

As soon as these words were out of her mouth, a
loud burst of almost hysterical laughter from all the -
party caused Molly to look at them with still greater
surprise. What were they doing ?- Everyone of them
pointing with outstretched arms at the Donkey in the

-
224 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND, [rv.

 

chair at the head ‘of the table, and positively yelling
with laughter, which, however, had a ring of pain
about it as it died away almost in a moan. Molly
could not understand it at all, and possibly never
would have done so, had not a new and still more
extraordinary event followed. The Donkey spoke!
Not in the natural bray of that worthy animal, but in
a human voice, and that voice none other than the.
voice of John Goodchild himself! And this is what
it said :-—

‘Really, Molly, it is very rude of you to refuse the
kindness which is offered you by these excellent ladies.
I wonder you can behave so, though why you should
intrude here at all is more than I know. Either join
us or leave us, if you please.’

Molly stood perfectly aghast at these words. The
language was better than that in which her husband
habitually expressed himself, but the voice was most
unmistakably his. It was not this, however, of which
Molly was thinking, but of the base ingratitude of the
man for whom she had ventured so much. Not only
did he not thank her for her attempts to save him,
but actually appeared to resent her coming! Was
he, then, after all, there by his own choice, and happier
than he had been before? Was it possible that he
had gained by his change and that she would be doing
him an injury instead of a benefit by reclaiming him ?
And—worse than all—had he found some one among
the fashionable ladies who formed his present society,
whom he preferred to her, Molly, his lawful wedded
wife, and from whom he was now unwilling to part?
All these thoughts passed like lightning through the
 

¢

Iv.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 225

 

poor woman’s mind, and were then succeeded by others
which drove them thence.

No: she argued to herself; ‘men might be false ;
she had often heard her female friends say so, though
from her experience of her John, she had never
greatly, believed them. Men might like pleasure
better than work, men might be fond of good eating
and drinking, and lively society, and for such things
they might, for a time at least, neglect and leave the
domestic comforts of their own firesides. Nay, more
than all this, it was just within the range of possibility
that. some men might even go so far as to prefer,
upon certain occasions, the company of other ladies to
that of their own wives, though this was a point
not readily to be conceded. But no man that ever
existed willingly assumed the shape of a donkey, and
delighted in. the company of those who had invested
him with that uncouth form and appearance. There-
fore, if that animal were really her husband, it was
clear to Molly that he was under some magic spell,

and that the words he had used, and the sentiments he

had conveyed in those words, were not really his
own. Once firmly convinced of this, the fisherman’s

wife did not hesitate as to her reply.

“You great Donkey !’ she exclaimed, ‘I know your
voice is my John’s voice, and as sich I answer it. You
are not the first man, no doubt, that has been made

_an ass of by a woman, and probably you won't be the

last. But how ever you can go for to wear such a
shape is more than I can tell! Come home, John, I
tell you, and don’t oe mumbling and grumbling there
like a great porpoise,’

*9
226 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [Iv.

 

As she spoke Molly kept her eyes steadfastly fixed
upon the Donkey, in whom there appeared to be some
violent internal struggle going on, as if he wanted to
speak and couldn’t, and was at all events not as happy
in his own mind as an ordinary donkey ought to be.
The ladies around him redoubled their attentions, and
those at the table, all rising up with one accord and
holding full glasses in their hands, cried out at the top .
of their voices, ‘ Here’s a health to our dear Donkey !’
entirely drowning Molly’s concluding words.

In noways disconcerted by this conduct, Molly
took a step forward, and finding that her ass of a hus-
band either could not or would not give a satisfactory
response to her appeal, determined upon addressing
those to whom he doubtless owed his present con-
dition.

‘Ladies!’ she cried. ‘If sich ye be, and if not,
by whatever may be your right name, I asks you for to
give me back my John. Bean’t you ashamed for to
keep him away from his. home and his wife like this ?
And to clothe a Christian man in that there donkey’s
skin, it is a sin and shame I do declare !’

Once more arose the shrill and discordant laughter
at Molly’s words ; and, seeing that she was resolute in
her determination not to join their party, the company
all rose from the table, and forming a circle round the
Donkey, began to sing in as louda tone as possible, as
if they would scare Molly away by their noise :—

Fisherman John is a donkey now,

Vainly his wife may require him on shore ;
Vainly she asks us her wish to allow ;
Johnny shaJl never go back any more !
Ivi] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 227

 

Slave of the island he rows in the boat,
So the salt sea we can merrily pass ;
Then, when we care not to venture afloat,
Johnnie we turn to a regular ass.
Johnnie shall row, aye ! and Johnnie shall bray,
But never again from our isle go away !”

_ As they sang these words, the whole party began
to dance round and round the Donkey, who sat there
with imperturbable gravity, having apparently had
quite as much wine as was good for him, or at all events
seeming to be quite confused by what was going on
around him. What made the dance appear stranger
still was that all the waiters joined in it also; and to
see a number of cats in livery dancing about in this
manner was so absurd that at any other time Molly
would certainly have gone into fits of laughter. She
was, however, in no laughing mood just now, especially
as the dancers cast glances at her,the reverse of friendly,
and some of them began to approach her in their

antics with demonstrations which appeared decidedly
hostile. She could bear it no longer, so stepping for-
ward with a courage which you would hardly have sup-
posed her to possess, she advanced close to the dancers,
and remembering the word which the Wise Rabbit had
given her as a talisman against evil, she exclaimed in a
loud voice. ‘John Goodchild! come home! Wharl-
mone, I say !’

The words were scarcely out of her mouth when a
scream broke forth from every individual present—not
an ordinary scream, but a terrible, unearthly, painful
scream, such as may be imagined by those who have
powerful imaginations, but can hardly be described by
the pen of a living writer. It pierced through Molly’s

Qu?
228. WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. {iv.

 

ears with such a shrill and awful sound that she put
up both her hands immediately to keep it out.
Nevertheless, being determined to carry out the thing
to the end, and not knowing whether the mere mention
of the magic word once would be sufficient, Molly
resolutely pronounced itagain. ‘Come!’ said she, ‘I
be come here for my John, and I'll have him in spite
of ye all. Wharlmone !’ ;

A second, but more feeble cry once more burst
forth from the dancers. In another moment the same
curious metamorphosis took place which Molly had
witnessed in the case of the three ladies who had first
accosted her upon the island: the fine clothes of all the
ladies present turned to shabby garments, they them-
selves assumed the appearance of ugly and decrepid
old women, the livery fell off from the attendant cats,
and the whole company fled groaning and moaning
and howling into the woods on either side of the open
space. But this was not all. The table, with all the
good things that had been upon it, utterly disappeared.
In its place there was only.to be seen the large stump
of an enormous tree which had long ago been: blown
down or struck by lightning so that only a portion of
the trunk remained, and instead of the Donkey who
had so recently been reposing in state at the head of
the table, Molly perceived her husband sitting at the
foot of the tree, leaning against it, and rubbing his
eyes in a confused and woebegone manner. She
went up to him at once.

‘Oh John! come home at once, my man ! what fas
come to you and what have you been doing?’ John
looked up and rubbed his eyes again. ‘What, Molly
1v.] THE WITCHES?’ ISLAND. 229

lass, is it you come after me ? I don’t rightly know what
has happened or where I be? Bean’t I on the beach,
then?’

‘Oh no, John, my man, you are on the Witches’
Island, and a terrible place it be sure-ly. Come with
T at once or goodness only knows what may happen
yet |’

John still rubbed his eyes in an uncertain manner ;
but Molly was not to be denied. Rousing him from
his dreamy state by sundry exhortations accompanied
by judicious pinches in the fleshy part of his arm, she
got him on his legs, turned his head towards the path
by which she had herself come, and hastened him on
his way towards the spot where she had left the boat.
She determined to ask no more questions at that
moment, but to concentrate all her energies upon the
one object of getting her husband safe home again.
John tramped along unresistingly, like one still ina
dream, and no obstacle appeared in the path.

Meanwhile the sun had reasserted his right to
shine. All these proceedings had not taken half so
long as it takes to write them, and it was not yet five
o'clock. Molly and her husband reached the boat
safely, and entering it without molestation, were just
about to put off from the shore when suddenly a young
and by no means ill-looking damsel ran hastily out of
the part of the wood nearest to the place where the
boat had been moored, and exclaimed in a voice of
entreaty, ‘Oh do take me on board! Please do! I
am so very anxious to get away from this island if I

can! .Let me come with you—there must be room for
one more !’
230 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [v.

John turned his head sheepishly round, too much
confused and ashamed to say anything to this request,
and Molly saw that it would fall upon her to deal with
it. The woman looked respectable, but then the
Witches had looked even more than respectable, and
she could not but feel misgivings, though she knew not
how to express them without appearing rude or un-
kind. So she backed the boat a little, and said in —
her own good-natured voice, ‘ Well, if so be that you
really wants to come along with us, there’s room
enough if you sit quiet.’

Without another word the person addressed
stepped into the boat, which John then mechanically .
pushed off, and Molly, who had thought it best that
she should herself take the oars, began steadily to row
towards the shore. But the boat appeared to be so
unusually heavy that she made but little progress, and
felt she was tiring herself for nothing.

‘Here! John, my man,’ she said, ‘do you take an
oar and lend a hand. She don’t go just as should
be.” The words were scarcely out of her mouth when
the young damsel, who had until that moment been
sitting quietly near to John, suddenly threw her arms
round his neck, shouted in a wild discordant voice,
“Come back, my Johnnie! ehaw! ehaw!’ and cap-
sized the boat before you could say Jack Robinson.

In a single instant Molly realised the state of
affairs. The crafty witch whom she had been foolish
enough to take on. board was guiding John by the
scruff of the neck towards the shore, sitting cosily on
his back, and making him swim as she did so. Mean-
time, at the head of a whole shoal of mackerel and
1v.] _ DHE WITCHES? ISLAND. 231

 

other fish, a creature whom she firmly believed to be
her old friend the Turbot, rose up in the sea and came
darting towards her as if to prevent her from either
escaping or succouring her husband.

But Molly was equal to the occasion. Without the
delay of a second she pronounced the word ‘ Wharl-
mone !’ which sent the fishes hurry-scurrying off as
fast as they could. To right and empty the boat,
however, was not such an easy matter, and meanwhile
John was swimming in a listless way towards the
shore, evidently under the complete control of his
witch rider. Molly could swim pretty well, but she
had the boat to look after and dared not leave it; 3 so
she raised herself out of the water as well as she could
by laying hold of it, and shouted at the top of her
voice, ‘John! Wharlmone! I say, come back!’ In-
stantly John stopped, and then dived as if he had
been shot, in which action he dislodged the damsel
from his back, who yelled lustily as she found herself
struggling in the water some twenty yards from shore.

- John, meanwhile, rose again nearer to his wife, and
now came straight to her Assistance. Between them
they managed to right the boat, which they presently
succeeded in emptying of the water which remained
in her, and then set off rowing homewards once more.

Not one whit was Molly moved by the screams of
thedrowning witch, which, however, attracted a number
of fish, to whom she was fair game ; and the last that
Molly saw of her was the great pool of water splash-
ing to and fro, and fishes jumping around it in great
glee. Whether she was drowned or not the fisher-
man’s wife neither knew. nor cared. She made her

Cd
232 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [Iv.

husband take an oar, and they pulled together with
such good will that in a very short time they ran the
boat on to the beach very near their own cottage
door. Then Molly and John got out, dragged the
boat up a bit on the beach, and once more entered
their cottage together. And when they were safely
there, poor Molly sat down on the nearest chair and
cried as if her heart would break at the thought of all
“ she had gone through. John comforted her as well
as he could, and: after a while she got better; Still,
she said, she should never be as happy as she was
before, since evil habits were hard to get rid of, and
now John had once been on that island, he might
find it difficult to keep away.

Whilst they conversed in this manner Molly pre-
pared tea, of which they both partook, and then,
although it was getting late, she declared that she
could not possibly sleep without. thanking the
Rabbit, who had proved so kind a friend. As John
could not, in her opinion, be-safely left behind, and
was, moreover, quite as much indebted to the Wise
Rabbit as she was, it was agreed that he should ©
accompany his wife to the old-thorn tree, to thank
their mutual benefactor. Accordingly the two set
off together, and marched quietly up to the place
whence Molly had derived such wise and successful
instructions. With a face beaming with delight
she stood near to the thorn-tree, and said in joyous
tones :—

‘Wise Rabbit! we be come to say how thankful
we be to you. I have got my John back all through
you, and here he is with me. If you could only tell
1v.] THE WITCHES?’ ISLAND. 233

 

me how to prevent those witches from getting of him
again, I would be mortal obliged, so I would.’ -

After a moment’s pause the old voice spoke once
more, and the fisherman and his wife eagerly listened
to the words it uttered :—

‘When mortal man by witch is slaved,
By wile alone can he be saved,
And by ‘the word” of magic power
Alike in witch or warlock’s bower.
Once freed, he still shall free remain,
Ne’er by such arts enslaved again.
And those whose malice has been foiled,
Whose plans are neutralised and spoiled,
No more have power to vex thé man
Nor any of his kindred clan.
Wherefore, good dame, attend to me!
Thy foes thou ne’er again wilt see :
Defeated, they will elsewhere fly,
And leave to thee the victory !’

The voice ceased, and Molly, though much pleased
with the purport of its words, earnestly desired
further explanation of their meaning. This, however,
she could by no means obtain. Not another word
would the Rabbit say, and she and her husband were
obliged to go home satisfied with what they had
heard. That same night there came a terrible thunder-
storm. Thunder at least there was, awful to hear, and
the lightning flashed more vividly than the fisherman
and his wife ever remembered to have seen it before.
Yet not a drop of rain or hail fellpyand the night was
dry and sultry all through.

The first thing next morning the. fisherman and
his wife walked out on the beach and looked towards
the sea. Wonder of wonders! There was nothing
234 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [iv.

.to be seen of the Witches’ Island but a dense mass
of smoke. During the day a breeze sprang up which
swept away the smoke, and showed a complete desert
where had been the woods of stunted oak. Evidently
the brushwood had caught fire in the night, and the
whole place had been-consumed by the flames. So
said the people on the coast, but John and Molly
knew something beyond ¢hat. It was plain enough
to them that the Witches had determined to leave
the country, because, as the Wise Rabbit had said,
their power was broken, as regarded that neighbour-
hood at least, by the escape of the man they had
enslaved ; and what was more probable than that.
they had set fire to their island home, resolved that
no one else should enjoy the woods and shady re-
treats from which they were about to be banished ?
However this may be, it is certain that these fearful

y creatures were never seen any more upon that part of
the coast. :

Molly lived to a good old age, but she saw no
more of them, neither was she ever addressed by a
Turbot, comforted by a Sandpiper, or instructed by a
Wise Rabbit during the remainder of her existence.
The principal event of John’s life was, that he gave
up smuggling shortly after these events had occurred.
They ‘had made him think seriously upon all matters,
and he came to the wise conclusion that ‘as witches
were people who cared for and respected no laws at all,
he had better be as different to them as he possibly
could; therefore, for the future he respected the
revenue laws, avoided all smuggling, and took to
honest fishing. Being one of the best fishermen on
IV.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND 235

 

the coast, he got on very well at the business, and he
and Molly lived very comfortably together for many
years. But Molly always had a hold on him in re-
spect of the event of which I have been telling you,
and if ever she saw him talking to any other person
of the fairer sex whom she didn’t happen to like, she
was down upon him like a shot with some words
which brought him at once to a properly submissive
frame of mind ; recalling to his recollection the dangers
he had passed through, and the happy escape which,

through her instrumentality, he had had from the
Witches’ Island.
236 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. | \v.

 

V.

HARRY’S DREAM.

It was a warm day, in fact decidedly hot. So thought
the sheep as they shrank from the open field, and
clustered together beneath the shade of the elm-trees
which sent forth their spreading branches in a manner
which no sheep worthy of the name could fail to
appreciate ; so, too, thought the oxen as they stood
in the shallow water of the river ford, and bellowed
out. their gratitude as the cooling stream flowed round
their legs; aye, and so thought the boys who were
playing a cricket match on Northwell Green, and
although everybody knows that ‘it is never too hot
fox cricket, I fancy they would have been glad
enough if the sun would have hid his face behind a
good thick cloud for a while and left off shining down
so fiercely, on their heads. He wouldn’t though, but
kept on shining his brightest and strongest, until the
cricketers became so baked and broiled, that it was a
wonder they went on playing.. But English boys
never give in, and in spite of all the sun could do,
they persevered in their match and worked as hard as
if it was the main object of their lives. Well, and so
it was, just for that day. The village of Northwell was
pitted against Mr. Binning’s school from Prye, a small
v] HARRY’S DREAM. 237

 

town, as all the world knows, not two miles from
’ Northwell, and one which boasted a school which
called itself a college, and the boys whereof, as boys
should be, were much given to cricket. The two
elevens were supposed to be pretty equally matched,
for Northwell had a very tolerable club of its own,
fostered and supported as it was by the squire’s two
sons, Harry and George Sanderson, who both agreed
that there was nothing in the whole world to be com-
pared with cricket, and no such glorious fun as a
cricket-match. On the present occasion, however,
Harry’s ‘glorious fun’ had been cut short by the
decision of the umpire belonging to the other side, who
had given him ‘ out’—‘ leg before wicket.’

Now I have been given to understand that there
are three individuals never yet encountered in
society :—-A man who thinks himself a fool, a woman
who believes she is absolutely ugly, or a boy who is
satisfied that he was fairly given ‘out’ leg before
wicket. Harry, being no exception to this general
rule, was, J am sorry to say, in no very good temper
when he left the wicket. What made it more pro-
voking was the fact that his side only wanted twenty
runs to win, and there were only two more wickets to
follow him. He had been ‘ well in, and, but for this
misfortune, felt certain that he could have won the
match off his own bat. But fate, and the umpire,
prevented this, and Harry, too much of a gentleman
to show any ill-temper in the field, retired to his tent
in no very. amiable frame of mind. Nor was the
latter by any means improved by the remarks and
condolences of his friends. ‘A horrid shame!’ ‘I
238 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [v.

declare it wasn’t out.’ ‘That old muff Watkins, he isn’t
fit to be umpire,’ and a score more of similar remarks
greeted the boy, and were scarcely calculated to make
him alter his opinion on the matter. He watehed the
game, however, with great interest, in the hope that
the fortunes of the day were not yet irretrievably lost.
Young Smith of the Mill had followed him, and
scoring two from the first ball of the Prye bowler, had
raised the hopes of his side, which, however, fell again
as the next ball lowered his wicket. Seventeen to ‘tie,’
eighteen to ‘win, and all depended upon Jones and
Mopson, the last two of the Northwell players. Jones
hits a full pitch for four amid loud cheering from the
Northwellites. Little Mopson tips a ball in among
the ‘stips’ which they cleverly let pass,:and two more
runs are obtained, then a wide is bowled, and the
score shows ten to ‘tie’—eleven to win. All. is
anxiety as the play continues. Jones gives a ‘chance’
to cover ‘ point’ which is not taken, and two runs are
the result; the next ball is ‘blocked’ steadily, and the
third flies away to leg for two more runs. Six to tie
and seven to win, when. the ‘long-stop’ misses the
ball, and little Mopson calls Jones to run. They do
run and get a bye, when, as ill-luck will have it, they
fancy they can run a second, and the long-stop, with
a shot from afar, sends Jones’ stumps flying while he
isa full yard off from home, and victory rests with the
Prye eleven by five runs! Only by five runs! If Harry
had not been given ‘out’ in that manner, in all
probability the result would have been different. So
felt the Northwell eleven and their friends, and so
felt Harry himself, and he could not avoid a sensation |

-
Vv.) HARRY’S DREAM. 239

of disgust towards the unfriendly umpire who had so
materially contributed to the untoward result. Being
of a warm temperament, in which he closely resembled
the day, Harry’s irritation was increased by the
‘ chaff’ of one or two of the Prye boys, and became at
last so great that he could face it no longer. No
doubt it was weak and foolish of him, but so it was ;
and as the match was over and there was no occasion
for him to stay any longer on the ground, he slipped
away from the busy crowd on the green into his
father’s park hard by.

Squire Sanderson had a handsome mansion and a
beautiful park, in which much of Harry’s and his
brother’s leisure time was passed, and which was
certainly a first-rate place for a boy or anybody else
to pass his leisure time in, if he had the opportunity.
Like some other English parks, it was tolerably full
of oak-trees and fern, and the combination of these
two things would go far to make beautiful, at least in
the summer time, a place which was otherwise flat and
ugly. This, however, was not the case with Northwell
Park. The oak-trees and fern only added to the at-
tractions of scenery which would have been lovely
without either. The ground was tossed about in
beautiful undulations; the lake, and also several
smaller ponds, varied the scenery, and the park
abounded with picturesque views and bits of land-
scape which would have been delic#ous to the eye of
an artist, or in fact to the eye of anybody else who
had an atom of taste. :

But its chief beauty were the two large woods
which bounded it on either side: they were such
240 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND, [v.

woods as are not to be met with every day. They
were full of trees of enormous size and of unknown
age. Many of them had been pollarded, and so from
their crown sprang up sundry branches, each of which
was a small tree in itself, overshadowing the ground
far and wide on either side. These trees were princi-
pally hornbeam, beech, and ash, but a goodly sprink-
ling of oaks was intermixed with the others. As
spring advanced, these woods presented to the eye
a perfect carpet of blue-bells and other woodland
flowers, most pleasant to behold‘in their fresh beauty
and the variety of their colouring. Then gradually
the fern grew up and covered the greater part of the
earth within the precincts of the wood, where its green
contrasted with that of the leaves, above it, and the
eye rested gratefully upon the beauty of both. What
could be more delightful than to wander through such
woods in the height of.summer? At some places the
fern was higher than the head of an ordinary-sized
man, and as the overhanging branches of the trees,
drooping with their pondetous load of leaves, touched
its uprearing crest, it was not easy to make a passage
through it. At other spots it was thinner, and anyone
who knew the woods well could wind about in the
tracks made by the deer, and enjoy an exceedingly
beautiful and wild walk without keeping to the bridle
road which ran through each of the woods.

It was indeed a glorious place. Now and then a
startled doe, with her fawn by his side, would start,
from her lair in the fern, give half-a-dozen jumps with
her feet together, as if moved’ by mechanism, stand
staring at you with doubtful eyes for a moment or
v.] HARRY’S DREAM. 241

 

two, and then, with a little grunt of suspicious indig-
nation at being disturbed, plunge again into the thick
fern and disappear from your sight. Then again,
with a noise that made you start in spite of yourself,
the woodpigeon would suddenly burst out of the thick
foliage just above your head, where she had been
quietly dozing in the tree, enjoying the rays of the
sun shining in upon the thick leafy screen she had
chosen for her afternoon’s meditation. Dash, rush,
crash, out she would come just as you were close
under the tree, and for a moment you would wonder
what the noise could be all about. Then rabbits innu-
merable would cross your path; squirrels would
chatter above your head; the jays would let you
know their powers of imitation if you stopped to listen
to them without their discovering you, and then, when
roused, would give vent to the discordant note by
which they are generally known, and fly shrieking
away to hide themselves in the dense foliage. In
short, both animate and inanimate nature gave a
charm to these woods which everybody with ay
taste at all would appreciate and enjoy.

This was the scenery into which Harry entered,
as soon as he was in his father’s park. He carried
his hat in his hand, which ,he swung to and fro as he
walked along, meditating on the events of the day,
and intending to stroll quietly through the woods and
then home across the park, instead of taking the foot-
path which led direct to the house from the green
without passing through the wood. As he walked
and thought, it was not unnatural that the conduct of
the umpire should form part of the subject of his

R
242 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [v.

meditations, and at last, coming to a mossy bank
where was aclear space beneath the branches’ of a
mighty beech, he threw himself down thereupon for a
little rest, and after listening to the woodland sounds
about him for a few seconds, again found his thoughts
reverting to the event which had so disturbed him,
and almost involuntarily exclaimed aloud, ‘Confound
that old ass Watkins !’

T hope nobody will find fault with me for ventur-
ing to chronicle this naughty observation. There are
some critics so fastidious that@€ they blame the
thoughtless or worse than thoughtless writer who
’ ventures to make his heroes or h€roines say anything
which is not perfectly proper as well as grammatical.
But, unfortunately, people are zot always perfectly
proper, let alone grammatical, in their utterances, and
I do not pretend to relate only the sayings and
doings of people who always said and did exactly
what was proper and correct. I should, myself, find
it dull and insipid to do so, and possibly there are
others in this wicked world who might agree with me.
It must not be supposed for a moment that I defend
Harry for having made the above observation regard-
ing the hostile umpire. No doubt he was wrong, but
unfortunately he said it all the same, and I can only
tell what really happened as it was told to me by
those who know.: Again, then, do I’ respectfully
chronicle the fact that Harry, with some emphasis
and energy, observed, at the particular moment of
which we are now speaking, ‘Confound that old
ass Watkins!’

To his infinite surprise, the words were hardly out

e
v.] HARRY’S DREAM. 243

 

of his mouth before a voice remarked, as if in answer
to the observation he had just let fall, ‘Never give
way to temper.’

‘The voice was in no respects curious or uncommon,
though the circumstances under which it was uttered
were undoubtedly both the one and the other. The
spot upon which Harry was seated was far away from
any foot-path: no one had the slightest right to be
there save members of the family, or, indeed, the park-
keepers, and it was unlikely that such an observation
as had just been made would have fallen from one of
the latter. Harry, therefore, was greatly surprised,
not to say startled, at-an occurrence so totally unex-
pected. The voice seemed to come from some
quarter very near to where he was sitting, and accord-
ingly he turned his head right and left to discern who
could be the speaker.

-- He had not far to look. Ata short distance from
him, in fact, from one of the branches of the. very
tree under which he -had stationed himself, a little
old gentleman was dangling. Yes, dangling ;~ and
what is more extraordinary, dangling by the feet, and
swinging his arms leisurely to and fro as if he rather
enjoyed it. His feet were twisted somehow or other
over the branch, and there he hung as comfortably
as if he had been used to it all his life, as indeed
might possibly have been the case. His attitude was
indeed extraordinary, especially in a person of his
time “of life, for he was evidently advanced in. years,

@

at all events sufficiently so to justify the appellation

of ‘old gentleman’ which I have ventured to give

him. But his dress was no less extraordinary than his
R2
244 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND, {v.

attitude. At least, so Harry thought it, for it was
not customary in those parts to see people clad en-
tirely in brown velvet, and such was the old gentle-
man’s costume. Brown velvet’ shooting-coat and
waistcoat, brown velvet knickerbockers, and a wide-
awake of similar material which he held in one of his
hands, probably because it would otherwise have
fallen to the ground as he swung with his head
downwards. ;

Harry perceived ata glance that his ngw acquaint-
ance was no ordinary personage, although who or |
what he might be would have puzzledéa wiser head
than Master Harry’s to have determined. However,
Eton boys are never disconcerted at trifles, and
Harry, being an Eton boy, was not much put out,
however much he might have been surprised, by the
address of the individual in question. Perhaps his
first idea was to be somewhat offended at being so
coolly accosted by a-perfect stranger, but this feel-
ing did not last long, and the more so because he
felt that there was some force in the advice so un-
cerémoniously tendered. Though not really angry,
he had certainly felt more vexed than he liked to
own at the umpire’s decision, and the observation
which he had uttered aloud might well have led a
casual hearer to come to the conclusion that He had
slightly given way to a temper which it would have
been. better to have restrained. So, after the first
moment of surprise, he burst out into a hearty fit of
' laughter, without saying a word.

‘That’s better!’ observed the old gentleman ; ‘ that’s
much better, my boy! Laughter is a capital cure for
v.J HARRY’S DREAM. ‘ 245

 

a fit of the spleen. I like to hear you laugh: it does
me good!’

‘I am very glad to hear it, sir, replied Harry, who
had now partially recovered his composure, and then
paused, hardly knowing what he ought to say next.

But Eton, although her enemies say that the classi-
cal knowledge which she imparts to her sons is not
always carried away by them in such quantity and
quality as could be wished, and although the mathe-
matical instruction which they receive has been known
to require supplementary care, never fails to teach
politeness to all those whose natures allow them to be
the recipients of this useful lesson. Harry, therefore,
as an Eton boy, was bound to be polite, and he felt
that he had already gone near to commit a breach of
good manners in laughing so loudly at the stranger
without making any further answer to his first obser-
‘vation. Sitting up, therefore, upon the moss, he said
with a respectful air, as was becoming in a boy address-
ing one so much his senior in age:

‘Really, sir, you must excuse my apparent rude-
ness, but your first observation startled me so much
that I hardly knew what to say or do, and it is so un-
usual for us to see gentlemen hanging head downwards
in this wood that I positively could not help laughing.’

“No offence, Harry, no offence at all,’ rejoined the
other ; ‘and I am glad to find, by the readiness and
heartiness.of your laugh, that you were not so much
out of temper with that fellow Watkins as I had sup-
posed. It was a bore, though, I must confess, to be
given “out.” like that!’

. Harry was more than ever surprised now. The old
246 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [v.

5 a eee!

gentleman, then, knew his name, and all about the
cricket-match, and what good reason he had to be
vexed with Watkins. . Who could he be ? where could
he have come from? Harry was very certain that he
had not been among the lookers-on at the match, for
he could not have failed to observe anyone who had
appeared there in so strange adress. He could not
make it out at all, and looked hard at the old gentle-
man for several seconds before he spoke again.

‘Well,’ said the other after a while, ‘you'll know
me again, I should hope!’

‘I beg your pardon, sir, replied Harry, ‘I was
just thinking where I had seen you before.’

“You ever saw me before, interrupted the old
gentleman ; ‘so it’s no use thinking about zat. Ilive in
this wood, though, and perhaps you may see me again
some day, for I have taken rather a fancy to you.’

‘Thank you, sir, said Harry. ‘Iam very glad to
hear it ; but pray whereabouts do you live? I know
the wood pretty well; of course I do, because it is in -
my own father’s park, but I never knew that anybody
lived there. I thought the deer and rabbits and birds
and squirrels had it all to themselves.’

‘Sanderson Minor,’ gravely observed the old
gentleman, ‘there are a great many things which you do
not know yet, and a great many more which you very
likely never zz// know at all. I have told you already
that I live in this wood. Never mind how or where.
Perhaps I live in the trees and fern during the warm
summer months, and coil myself up in a hollow tree like
a dormouse all the winter. Perhaps I don’t. Anyhow,
you see me here to-day, and that must be enough for
v.] HARRY’S DREAM. 247

you for the present. However, since we have met so
conveniently, we may as well have a little more con-
versation before we part, which J think I should like
to carry on in rather a different position from that
which I occupy at present.’ So saying, the speaker
suddenly swung up and caught with his hands the
branch from which he had been hanging, and by this
means was enabled to let himself down so as to fall on
his feet. Then, crossing his legs under him, he sat
down within three or four yards of Harry, put on his
wide-awake, folded his arms across his breast, and
looked the boy steadily in the face.

Harry regarded all these proceedings with great
equanimity, and began to wonder what would happen
next. He had not, however, much opportunity for
wondering. A drowsy, dreamy feeling stole gradually
over him under the gaze of the old gentleman. The
trees, the fern, the strange little figure before him, all
seemed to grow dull, shadowy, and indistinct, and the
last thing Harry remembered was that a gratified and
triumphant smile stole over his companion’s face as if
he had completely succeeded in some desired object.
With that smile before him, Harry lost all conscious-
ness for a time.

When he awoke it was to gaze upon a scene en-
tirely different from that upon which he had closed
his eyes. He was lying upon a small sofa which fitted
into a recess in the window of a drawing-room. The
window was open, but before he looked out of it he
took a survey of the room itself, first rubbing his eyes
hard to assure himself that he was really awake.
The room was beautifully furnished, Costly mirrors
248 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [v.

 

hung upon the walls, which were also adorned with
first-rate pictures by the best artists of the best
schools. There were tables of different kinds of ex-
pensive woods; chairs of various sizes and shapes,
covered with rose-coloured chintz; cabinets filled
with rare and precious objects; all these things met
his eye as he gazed around him in mute surprise and
admiration at the exquisite taste which was every-
where displayed, and the evidence of wealth which he
saw on all sides. A soft carpet of beautiful pattern
covered the floor, the mantel-piece was of white
marble, on the front of which was a wonderfully carved
figure of Cleopatra, with the fatal asp about to be
applied to her breast, a marvellous work of art which
caught the eye immediately, and invited it to rest with
pleasure upon so beautiful a design. The room was
lighted by three windows in the large bow which
formed its front, and in the centre window was
the sofa upon which Harry found himself.
Having completed his survey of the room, he
looked out of the window upon a beautiful lawn, en-
tirely surrounded on three sides by a circle of magni-
ficent rhododendrons, which must have ‘been most
delightful to look upon.a few months earlisr in the
year. As it was August, however, they had gone off
after the usual fashion of rhododendrons, and had
only their green leaves to remind you of what they
had been in the days of their beauty. In the front
part of the lawn, facing the house, there was nothing
to intercept Harry’s view, and it was upon this that
he fixed his eyes after the first moment. Several
gardeners were employed in the seasonable practice. of
v.J HARRY’S DREAM. 249

 

“bedding out, which employment they followed with
the greater assiduity from the fact that they were
overlooked by a lady and gentleman to whom ap-
parently the place belonged. : The lady sat in a large
bath-chair, the head of which had been drawn forward
so as to shield her from the sun, whilst she could thus
sit comfortably enough with her face to the gardeners
and superintend their work without being exposed to
the heat and glare of the summer’s day.

Upon her head she wore a straw hat, about which
there was nothing remarkable, and her dress was of
exactly ene and the same colour all over, which colour
was, like the coverings of the chairs, rose-colour, and
seemed to Harry rather smart to wear in the garden
in the middle of the day. Her companion, however,
was none other than the little old gentleman whom
Harry had seen in the wood, and his dress was pre-
cisely similar to that which he had worn upon his first
appearance. Brown from head to foot was he, and
had his ‘wideawake’ of the same colour upon his
head. He was giving directions to the gardeners as
they went on with their work, and appeared to take
a lively interest in their proceedings.

On looking more closely at the men who were
working, Harry could not but be astonished at what
he saw. Their bodies, arms, and legs appeared to be
in every respect similar to those of ordinary mortals,
but instead of heads, he could see nothing upon the
shoulders of each of them but something closely re-
sembling a pudding. Yes; it certainly was so; the
- man nearest him had a most undoubted plum-pud-
ding instead of a head, and the next to him had
250 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [v.

 

something more like a boiled tapioca pudding than
anything else. Still the men worked on just as if
they had regular heads like other people, and the
puddings never broke, or crumbled, or fell off, but
kept on the shoulders quite well, as if they had been
used to it all their lives. Harry was never so as-
tonished in his life, but before he could say or do
‘anything to express his astonishment, it was greatly
increased by the sight of another marvel. The gar-
deners, as I have said, were ‘ bedding out,’ or, in other
words, planting ‘annuals’ in the little beds upon the
lawn, which were fantastically cut about in different
shapes and sizes. But the plants which they were
putting in at the moment when Harry began to ob-
serve them bore a curious resemblance to men’s heads,
and when one of the men drew back to let the little
old gentleman see how he was getting on, Harry saw
a number of heads planted in the bed at which he
had been working, every head of which bore an un-
mistakable resemblance to that of his old enemy, the
umpire Watkins! Yes! Facing every way, So that
a person walking round the bed might have the ad-
vantage of studying the features of his beautiful and
intellectual visage from every possible point of view,
there was Watkins !

How one man could have so many heads, how he
could be alive and smiling (as the faces were) after
having had his head cut off, or how indeed he ever
got there at all, whether with one head or five hun-
dred, were questions which mightily perplexed Harry,
and which he found himself totally unable to answer. °
As he gazed and wondered, with perhaps some shade
v.] HIARRV’S DREAM. 251

of pity for the luckless umpire who had apparently
expiated all his offences at last, and would no longer
be able to give boys out unfairly, a ray of light was
shed upon the subject by the lady, who languidly re-
marked to her companion,

‘There, I really think that head does very nicely.
How very well it looks, when it grins with that com-
placent, self-satisfied air! Iam so glad we have got
him !”

“You may thank the boy for that!’ cried the old
gentleman. ‘If he hadn’t said, “Confound that old
ass Watkins!” just at that particular time and place,
we should never have caught the old fellow at all.
But now we've been able to “confound” him indeed.
What a comfort it is when one is able to take people
at their words, and do the things they say they wish—
though very likely they don’t wish them at all, only
they never know their own minds!’

‘True, remarked his companion: ‘Mortals are
queer creatures. It is lucky for them that there are
only certain places in the world, and those few in
number, where we have the power to-take advantage
of their words, or they would have many more
troubles than now.’

‘Certainly they would,’ observed the other. ‘At
least some of them would have a rough time of it.
But how should we manage in such a case? We
should have more to attend to than any Fairy
could manage.’

Harry had listened to the dialogue thus far with
great attention, and had gathered from it that he
himself had been, unwittingly, the ‘cause of the mis-
252 WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND. [v.

 

fortune which seemed to have befallen poor Watkins.
But when by the concluding words of the old gentle-
man, he gathered the fact that it was (as he had
already suspected) his fate to have fallen into the
hands of Fairies, he began to feel exceedingly doubt-
ful as to his own position. It did not seem as if any
evil was intended to him, at least for the present, and
indeed the old gentleman had volunteered the state-
ment that he had taken a fancy to him. But people
who were capable of cutting off umpires’ heads, multi-
plying them many-fold, and then bedding them out
as plants in their gardens, might at any time deal in
a similarly unpleasant and singular manner with a
person who was zof an umpire. Therefore Harry
began to think that it would behove him to be careful
and cautious, lest the wrath of the Fairies should be
turned upon him. The darkest suspicion, also, arose
in his mind about the heads of the gardeners, who
were very unlikely to have been born in the condition
in which he now saw them. So, upon the whole, the
boy felt rather uncomfortable, and would sooner have
been lying in the tent on Northwell Green, or in the
playing-fields at Eton, than upon the sofa in that
magnificently furnished drawing-room.

At that moment, however, whilst he was still in a
state of perplexity and doubt as to speaking or not
speaking to the lady and gentleman, so as to call their
attention to his presence, an uncontrollable desire to
sneeze settled the point for him by causing him to
make such a noise as immediately induced both the
one and the other to turn their heads in the direction
of the window.
v.] HARRY’S DREAM. 283

 

‘Ha!’ cried the brown gentleman, ‘our young
friend is awake. Come, Cinderella, let us go and talk
to him.’

Upon this the lady without more ado stepped out
of her bath-chair, and in so doing exhibited a remark-
ably small foot with such a tiny slipper upon it that
Harry began to think he had before his eyes the verit-
able Cinderella of the olden story. The old gentleman
offered her his arm, and they walked together straight
up to the window at which Harry was now sitting up-
right on his sofa. Then he perceived for the first time
that the lady was somewhat smaller than the gentle-
man, and that her features bore an extraordinary re-
semblance to those of his own sister May, of whom he
was excessively fond, but whom he never expected to
find walking arm in arm with a brown gentleman in
what was evidently a fairy garden. But not only was
it like May but it absolutely was May: Harry was
perfectly sure of it; so sure, indeed, that as soon as
the pair came close to the window, which they presently
did, he shouted out in a tone of surprise, ‘Why,
May? is that you? How ever did you come here, and
what are you doing ?’

The person addressed received his words in a
strange and novel manner. She sat plump down
upon a rosebush (which to most persons would have
been exceedingly inconvenient) and began to cry ;
whilst the old gentleman, as if it was a thing of every-
day occurrence, to which he was quite accustomed,
deliberately drew from his pocket a clean brown
pocket-handkerchief, gracefully unfolded it and began
with tender care gravely to dry the tears as they
254 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [v.

 

coursed down her cheeks. Then stopping for a mo-
ment, he turned with the utmost gravity to Harry, and
holding up his forefinger in a warning’ manner, re-
marked, ‘Hush! pray be quiet! don’t mind her! It
will all be right presently. She is often like this in
the fruit-season,’ and then returned to his occupation.

Harry gazed upon the two with increasing wonder.
What connection there could be between his words,
the fruit-season, and May’s tears (for it certainly was
May) he had not the least idea, but as the old
gentleman told him to be quiet, he saw no reason why
he should not obey. So he waited patiently for several
moments while the crying and. tear-drying continued,
when all of a sudden the lady jumped up with quite a
radiant smile upon her countenance, and observed in
a remarkably cheerful tone, ‘Buzzing bumble-bees
bravely beating briary bramble bushes for a burnt
Barnstable baronet :’ say that fast three times after me
without a mistake and I’ll give you a sixpence!’

Harry was extremely surprised at this observation,
which, however, appeared nowise to disconcert the
little old gentleman, who immediately desisted from
his employment, and began to say the words after
May as fast-as he could, failing signally in his attempt
to do so without mistakes.

‘Stupid!’ at length she said, and then turning to
Harry, called out, ‘Now, you try!’

Harry did as he was told, thoughhe didn’t see much
fun in it, and thought that the old words, ‘ Peter Piper
picked a peck of pickled pepper, presented much
greater difficulties to rapid pronunciation. He ven-
tured to suggest this, upon which May pouted and
v.J _ HARRY’S DREAM. 255

 

said she shouldn’t play any more, and the old gentleman
told Harry that he was evidently no judge of such
matters. At this Harry was rather nettled, not con-
sidering that the question was one sufficiently deep to
require age and experience in order to understand it
thoroughly. He ventured to hint as much to his brown
friend, upon which the latter looked up at him calmly
and asked the following startling question :-—

‘ How long have, you been at Eton?’

‘More than two years,’ replied Harry.

‘And how many times have you been flogged ?’
demanded the inquisitive old gentleman.

Harry coloured, for though he had, like other
boys, been in a few trifling scrapes which had terminated
in an acquaintance with the head master’s right arm,
and was not ashamed of the fact, yet he did not care
to be questioned about it by a comparative stranger,
and was at first doubtful how to answer. On the
whole, however, he thought that he might as well speak
out ; so he replied, with as careless an air as he could
assume at the moment, ‘Oh, two or three times, about
like other fellows, I suppose. I dare say you were
flogged in your time, too, sir?’

‘I flogged!’ cried the little brown gentleman, ‘I
should just think so! From the time I left my cradle
up to a moment too recent to be mentioned, I have
been continually becoming acquainted with personal
chastisement. I wrote a song about it once, which I
may as well sing to you at once, as I feel musically
inclined.’ So saying, he broke off into the following
lively ditty to the tune of that beautiful melody,
“Over the sea,’
256 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [v.

 

I.

Over her knee, over her knee,
How my old grandmother used to spank me ;
Over her knee, over her knee,
When I was quite a small boy !
It was spank, spank, spank !
Ne use was it kicking, for on she went licking,
With spank, spank, spank!
The thing she quite used to enjoy !
(Chorus) Then it’s over her knee, &c.

Il.

Over her knee, over her knee,
Oft she would turn me as if for a spree,
Over her knee, over her knee,
Turn me again and again.
It was spank, spank, spank !
In vain was my crying, she kept on applying
The spank, spank, spank !
Oh, it was terrible pain!
(Chorus) Then it’s over her knee, &c.

Ill.

When I was free down from her knee
Naughty again I was certain to be,
‘Then she took me back on her knee,
Acting the same as before ;
Ti was spank, spank, spank !
Wretched young fellow, oh, how I did bellow!
Still spank, spank, spank !
O, ’twas no end of a bore !
(Chorus) When over her knee, &c.

‘There!’ cried the little brown gentleman as he
came to an end of his song, ‘I call that a sensible
kind of a ditty, and what is more, it is strictly founded
upon fact, which is more than many of my friends can
say who write songs and stories. Now, then, can’t
v.] HARRY’S DREAM. 257
you sing a song in your turn, or say something amus-
ing ? You seem as dull as ditch-water to-day,’

‘Thank you!’ said Harry with a laugh ; ‘I would
sing if I could, but I really can’t. I don’t belong to
the musical fellows at Eton. Now if Ronaldson were
here, he would sing you “Simon the Cellarer” in no
time—he’s the chap to sing, and as for making you
laugh, to see A272 laugh would set you off for a week,
he is famous for his laugh.’

‘Who is he?’ asked the lady, whose attention had
now been attracted by the conversation, to which she
had hitherto paid marked disregard.

‘Oh! one of the sixth form at Eton, said Harry.

‘What are they ?’ she demanded.

‘ What are they ?’ said Harry, somewhat indignant
at there being anybody who did not know what a
sixth-form boy at Eton was, ‘why, the head fellows
in the school of course!’

‘No “of course” at all,’ interposed the little old
gentleman. ‘The head fellows must be the jist
fellows, and therefore the frs¢ form and not the sza¢h
form must contain the head fellows.’

‘Oh no!’ cried Harry, ‘you don’t understand. |

‘Z don’t understand !’ bawled the other at the top
of his voice. ‘How dare you say so? I understand
everything and know everything best, and therefore
either I’m quite right or else Eton has made some
stupid mistake in the matter. At all events, the great
thing is that J am right; so pray say no more about it,
especially as this singing fool of yours is not here,
thank goodness,’

Harry was very much tempted to reply, but thought

Ss
258 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. Lv.

 

that under the circumstances he had better refrain from
doing so, and accordingly contented himself with
attributing the contemptuous epithet applied to his
friend by the old gentleman as merely the proverbial
jealousy of one singer towards another who had been
praised in his hearing. Wishing therefore to change
the subject, he turned round to his two companions,
and addressing them with much respect, said, ‘ Will
you kindly tell me how it is that your gardeners have
such curious heads ?’

‘Curious heads!’ cried May, ‘I don’t see it at all.
They have the heads bestowed upon them by their
masters, who, in a properly enchanted place, called
them “ Pudding-headed fellows,” and hence the result.
I don’t see what they have to complain of, they do
very well?

‘But,’ rejoined Harry, ‘what right had their masters
to make them thus?’

‘My boy,’ remarked the little brown, gentleman,
‘do not seek to know too much. However, I may
frankly tell you that their masters did not know that
this result would follow their application of such an
epithet to their servants. They knew not, any more
than the men themselves, that they were standing
upon an enchanted spot, where a wish formed by one
mortal with respect to another, or an expression ap-
plied by one person to another, would instantly be
followed by practical results. But as no mortals do
know where these enchanted places happen to be
situated, they ought to be much more careful than they
are as to what they say or wish about other people.
No one knows the effect a careless word may have.’

This struck Harry as being a sensible remark, and,
v] HARRY’S DREAM. 259

associating it with the state of Watkins the umpire, he
began to feel rather uneasy in his mind. Probably
his countenance gave some indication of his feelings,
for the old gentleman presently exclaimed, ‘Come,
don’t be downcast or unhappy; we don’t like that
kind of thing here. Wouldn’t you like to see the gar-
dens ?’

Harry saw no reason for saying anything but ‘ Yes’
to this proposal, and the three set off together at once.
They crossed the lawn, during which process Harry
carefully averted his eyes from the border of Watkins’
heads, but ‘only to observe that many other counten-
ances of people, known and unknown to him, appeared
to be placed in a similar position in other borders, which
rather relieved his mind, as showing that the unhappy
umpire would at least have company in his punish-
ment. Then, passing through a narrow passage cut
through the rhododendrons, they came on to another
larger lawn, on one side of which was an enormous
extent of glass—green-houses and hot-houses, peach-
houses and grape-houses, as Harry thought, enough
to have supplied all Eton through the whole summer
halfand even then have left plenty of fruit over. But
when he came near, he found he had been mistaken.
These were not houses for ordinary fruit, but contained
new and extraordinary plants. The first house was
completely filled with plants the like of which Harry
had never seen before and about which he eagerly
questioned his companions.

‘Oh!’ said the little brown gentleman, ‘ these are
Observation-trees : don’t you see their names written
on the stem of each?’
; $2
260 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. {v.

 

‘Yes, replied the boy ; ‘but what do they mean?
and how do they grow here? I never saw them at
home.’

‘Certainly not, returned the other, ‘ because home
and Fairyland are two different places. The Observa-
tion-tree springs from the observations which people
let fall in the world of which you are a member. If
they are not broken by the fall, Fairies very often pick
them up and plant them, when, according to the in-
tention and feeling with which they came from the
person who was first responsible for them, they either
flourish or the reverse. See for instance this tree.
“What a fine day it is!” was the seed-observation, and
as it was probably a true remark, uttered with sincerity,
you see how it has blossomed out and how the obser-
vation is enlarged and elaborated on many of the
buds.’

Harry looked closely and observed that each of the
buds of the tree had some kind of remark appertain-
ing to the subject of the parent-observation. “It is
warm, bright, and pleasant. ‘The sun is cheering
everything with his bright rays.’ ‘ The air is really deli-
cious,’ and many other similar inscriptions.

‘ This,’ said the little brown gentleman, ‘is a very
common observation, and we have more specimens
than we care for. Here, however, is another, of which
there are many and great varieties.’

As he spoke, he pointed to a plant growing near,
upon the stem of which was marked, ‘ How d’ye do?
I am so very glad to see you!’ Another plant of the
same sort was growing side by side with this, and
Harry observed a marked difference between the two,
v.] HARRY’S DREAM. 261

 

Upon the first, where the observation let fall had been
perfectly sincere, there was much blossom, and the
buds, which were numerous, were inscribed with such
words as ‘It is really so very long since we met.’ ‘It
is always a pleasure to me when we run against each
other” ‘How pleasant it is for two friends to meet
unexpectedly!’ The second, on the contrary, having
evidently been a mere polite remark with no real
feeling in it, had grown up a sickly plant, with little
blossom and few buds, the latter bearing inscriptions
already blighted, such as ‘I never expected to meet
you here. ‘How tiresome one’s acquaintances are,
meeting one at every corner!’ ‘Dear me, what a bore!
here is somebody else one must speak to!’ remarks
which may often have crossed the minds of people
who have saluted their acquaintances with civil words
without civil thoughts, but which it would be exceed-
ingly disagreeable to have paraded in the form of buds
on a tree immediately after they had been made.
Harry told his companions as much, but they only
laughed, and said it was to expose the humbug of
mortals that Fairies kept such things, and that they
were useful as a warning to the inhabitants of Fairy-
land itself.

The next glass-house was entirely filled with a
particular kind of shrub which the little brown gentle-
man informed Harry was called the Good-Intention-
tree. There were numerous specimens, ‘for,’ said the
owner, ‘so many people have good intentions in your
world that we encounter no difficulty whatever in ob-
taining as many as we like. Some, you see, blossom
and come to maturity as well as we could wish, but
262 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND, [v.

 

with the great majority it is otherwise. The plant is
exceedingly tender and difficult to rear, and all the
more so because it always looks so healthy at first
that one is tempted to think it requires but little care.
The very reverse, however, is the case. Nothing is
harder than really to bring a “good intention ” to per-
fection. Various kinds of worms assail it, known here
as the “temptation worms,” and more frequently still
it falls a victim to the blight which we call “Indo-
lence,” and so the promised fruit is never gathered.’

Harry listened and wondered at. the account of
this plant, and would have asked some more questions
about it, only that his companions hurried him on to
the next compartment, which, like the last, was one of
considerable size.

‘This, said the brown gentleman, ‘is the Hope-
house, which contains some curious varieties of a plant
which, while life lasts, is always found growing in the
breast of man, which is its favourite soil. Here you
may observe some very fine and thriving plants, which
we call Realised Hopes, whilst these which seem
blighted and dying are Disappointed Hopes, and these
pale and sickly-looking plants, which appear as if they
might either fade or recover according to the care
with which they are tended, are known by the name
of Hope Deferred, a most trying plant to rear,’

As he spoke, he led the way into another compart-
ment, in which were a number of trees with plenty of
branches, but with scarcely any leaves to speak of.

‘This,’ said he, ‘is the Repentance-tree, of which we
have, as you may see, a vast number. It is one ex-
tremely common in your world, and one which we
v.] LTARRY’S DREAM. 263

 

have no difficulty in rearing here in any quantity we
please. Its peculiar quality is that in nine cases out
of ten it buds and blossoms too late to be of any use.
If we could but get it to come out now, in the warm
summer, its leaves would be the greatest comfort by
way of shade from the rays of the summer sun, but
instead of this, it persists in remaining with bare
branches now, and only puts forth its leaves in the
winter, when the sun has lost its power, and when its
shade can be of little service to anybody,’

- As he spoke, the little gentleman opened another
door and remarked to the boy, ‘Here you may see
another curious species of plant. This is the Dream-
tree, from which we supply people in your world with
all kinds of dreams, some of which, I can assure you,
are very pleasant and others equally disagreeable.
Look at this horrible specimen with all kinds of ugly
faces on its leaves: that is a tree of alarming dreams.
There again, the tree which sparkles so is one which
only bears cheerful, happy dreams: this kind is much
rarer than the other.’

‘But,’ said Harry, ‘ ever so many of the trees seem
to be growing root-upwards, how does that come
about ?’

‘Don’t you know?’ interrupted May eagerly, as
if anxious to display her superior information. ‘Silly
boy ! Dreams generally “go by contraries:” so of course
the trees have to grow topsy-turvy in order to enable
them to do so.’

Although Harry did not feel perfectly satisfied
with this explanation, he deemed it inexpedient to
enquire further, and so they passed on through several
264 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [v.

more houses, containing many curious specimens of
plants and trees of which he had never heard before.
One which rather amused him was the ‘ Letter House,
in which grew a number of specimens of the letter H,
which people in his own world had let drop, and which
had immediately been planted by the Fairies. They
had not, gowever, so many specimens of this sort as
they could wish, remarked the little brown gentleman,
owing to the fact of there being so many world-people
who, instead of dropping the letter, seized it and
clapped it on in words where it was not wanted, by
which means a great many letter-H plants were ab-
sorbed, which would otherwise have found their way
to Fairyland hot-houses.

By this time Harry had had nearly enough of the
specimens under glass, and was by no means sorry
when May suddenly exclaimed, ‘Let’s have a game
of croquet !’ to which her companion instantly assented,
and went off to get the mallets and balls, telling
Harry to look after the lady meanwhile. As soon as
he was gone, the boy turned to his sister, and said
earnestly, ‘I wish you would tell me what it all means,
May: I know you are May, you know, and it’s no
use pretending to be somebody else.’

This time the person addressed neither sat down
nor cried as she had done before, but, turning her head
towards him, made a face as if she didn’t wish to be
bothered, and replied, ‘What is “it” ? I don’t know
what you mean by “it,” and why “it” should mean
anything at all. Why can’t you be quiet and nice,
and not ask stupid questions. I’ma Fairy now, and
it’s absurd of you not to know it. And then she
v.] AARRY’S DREAM. 265

suddenly broke out into the good old song, which, by
the way, she sang with especial sweetness :—

‘Tell me where do Fairies dwell,
Where they weave each mystic spell ;
Tell me where their homes can be,
Where they sport in phantasy ?’

As she sang, the little brown gentleman suddenly
re-appeared, laden with mallets and balls, which he
‘immediately threw down upon the ground, and plant-
ing himself immediately opposite the. lady, waited
until she had quite done singing. Then, as if the
passion for verse had suddenly seized upon him, he
put his left hand behind him under his coat-tails,
stretched out his right arm in the air, and began to
deliver himself, ina somewhat theatrical fashion, of the
following rhymes :—

‘You ask me where the Fairies dwell,
Of whom you sing in tuneful strain,
And, though ’twere harder task to tell,
Those lips should never ask in vain.
They dwell not ’mid the haunts of men,
Or in the busy walks of life,
Where feeble mortals plot and plan
All in the same unholy strife :
Beneath one banner all enrolled—
Mammon their God—their Heaven, Gold!

‘Ne’er to the crowded dance they steal,
Where whirl around a giddy train,
And in the mazy waltz may wheel
Alike the body and the brain :
Such scenes avoid with mournful eye
Our Fairies in their modesty.

‘The lofty church and deep-toned bell,
And fragrant incense widely spread ;
The organ’s all melodious swell,
And solemn chaunting o’er the dead:
266 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [v.

 

Religion ruled by Priestly hand—
Such have no place in Fairyland.

‘Where the blue Ocean swells in might,
And roll the waves with ceaseless. roar,

And the white surge, in mad delight,
Breaks on the solitary shore ;

No Fairy form the wave conveys,

There may we list no elfin lays.

‘ Still will you ask where Fairies dwell?

Dear Lady, I will strive to tell.

Oft have you seen, in childhood’s hours,
When merrily you loved to roam

Amid the oak-encircled bowers
That waved in splendour round your home,

Near some moss-bank or crystal spring

The diamond-sparkling ‘* Fairy Ring.”

‘Here is it that our Fairies dwell
(Though unperceived by mortal eye),
The peaceful spot could truly tell
Tales of their midnight revelry.
The grass still drooping, lately prest
By elfin feet in playful sport, .
Shows how, when earthborn creatures rest,
Hither our Fairy bands resort,
And, on the moss and couches green,
Disport around our elfin queen !
I cannot ope to mortal eye
These scenes of sweet felicity ;
I cannot in my verse express
One tithe of all their happiness.
It may not be—your fancy’s eye
Alone may view their “‘ phantasy” ;
Alone may know the modest dance
Of graceful Fairy elegance ;
Alone may hear that lovely strain
The words re-echo back again.
For should you seek their dear retreat,
From mortal sound my elves would hide,
v.] HIARRY’S DREAM. 267

 

And at the the tread of mortal feet

Fly to their caverns terrified,
You may but guess that here they dwell,
And love them, though invisible !

‘Yet am I wreng. Though far away
Our Fairies sport in woodland shade,
And mortal man were rash to stray
Within the spell-enchanted glade ;
Still are their strains to mortals known,
In notes that make the heart rejoice ;
And softer e’en than Fairy tone
I deem the tones of that sweet voice
Which doth to a// enchantment bring
Whene’er my Maiden deigns to sing.’

Here the little brown gentleman came to a stop
(as indeed it was time he should after such a prepos-
terously long spell of verse), and bowed low before
May, as if he had paid her the prettiest compliment
in his power. But quite a different idea struck
Harry.

‘There!’ he shouted, ‘you see you awta Fairy,
May, not the least in the world. The old gentleman
has plainly told you so, and called you a mortal to
your face! What a humbug you are, pretending to
be a Fairy when you are nothing of the sort! just like
a girl!’

To his infinite surprise, the young lady took no
notice whatever of this somewhat rude address, but
made a polite bow to the little old gentleman, and
merely remarked in a careless sort of tone, ‘Don’t
you think we had better play croquet, now that you
have brought the things ?’

The other nodded his head, and they proceeded
to the croquet ground, which was quite close by.
268 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND, [v.

 

 

When they got there, the old gentleman proposed
that they should play one against the other, with
two balls each, but May declared that it would
make a much better game if they played together,
the two who belonged to the place, with one ball each,
against Harry with two. Of course the lady had her
own way, and the game began as she had wished it.
But fancy Harry’s horror and dismay when he found
that the croquet balls were simply people's heads, cut
off short so as to be round enough to run on the level
ground, and perfectly alive all the time! In fact, they
rather seemed to like it, and grinned and winked
when they were struck one against the other. There
was, however, a worse feature in the case. Every
head bore the features of one of the Eton masters.
Now to knock about a stranger’s head would have
been bad enough, but to be obliged to punch the head
of a fellow who had it in his power to have you flogged
for it, under some pretence or other, as soon as he got
you safe back at Eton, was very far from being agree-
able to Harry, who felt acutely the critical nature of
his position.

There was one very Young-looking head, another
very Woolly, another which had been light but was
Browning by exposure to the air; one was as hard as
Stone, one as white as Sxow, and one with a Warlike
appearance which made Harry quite afraid to strike it.

The worst of it was, too, that some of the heads
were so exceedingly soft that Harry was quite sure he
should hurt them, and the consequence was that he
played very badly and was easily defeated by the
other two. Naturally, therefore, he soon got tired of
Vv HARRY’S DREAM. 269

 

the game, and was much rejoiced when May threw
down her mallet and exclaimed, ‘ How hot this makes
one! Let us leave off now, and have five o’clock tea !’

As nobody raised any objection to this proposal,
they all left the croquet ground and went back to the
house, which they entered by the drawing-room win-
dow, and the little brown gentleman rang the bell
forthwith. Presently afterwards a scuffling noise was
heard, and in another moment the door opened, and,
to Harry’s great astonishment, in walked a squirrel.
He was dressed in green livery, trimmed with white,
fitting close to his skin and very neatly made, and his
head was powdered like that of a regular footman in
those establishments in which that practice is still con-
tinued. But, for all that, he was nothing more nor
less than a squirrel, as was abundantly proved by his
head, ears, and restless little eyes, to say nothing of
his bushy tail, which he carried with great dignity as
he entered the room on his hind legs.

‘Bring tea under the arbutus!’ said the little old
gentleman ; upon which the other bowed and withdrew.
The party then again went into the shubbery, and sat
down under a beautiful arbutus which spread its shade
around in an agreeable manner, and under which were
several garden chairs conveniently placed. Ina few
minutes the squirrel, with three others of his kind
similarly dressed, came hurrying out of the house with
the tea which had been ordered. They carried with
them a table of circular form, and of size sufficient to
contain a silver tray which they placed upon it, and
established it opposite the young lady. Upon the tray
were a small silver tea-pot, and three cups and saucers,
270 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [v.

the same number of plates, a cake and several slices
of thin bread and butter, and a small silver cream-jug
of ancient and fantastic pattern. There was nothing
remarkable in all this apparatus, which was in fact
very similar to that which was employed every day at
home for his sister’s five o’clock tea. But as soon as
it had been set before May, the table began to turn
slowly round and round, as if it was not quite satisfied ,
with its position, and wanted to alter it.

Harry had heard a good deal about table-turning,
but it struck him that the practice was an exceedingly
inconvenient one when adopted by tables which had
your meals upon them. May and her companion, how-
ever, did not seem to think there was anything extra-
ordinary inthe matter. The former, in no way puzzled
or surprised, cleverly lifted the tea-pot as it moved
past her, and dexterously poured out three cups of tea
without spilling a drop. Then she asked Harry.to
cut her some cake, which he found the greatest diffi-
culty in doing, as the table resolutely refused to stop,
and kept on going steadily round. However, as an
Eton boy never gives way to any difficulties, Harry
managed, somehow or other, to chop a bit out of the
cake as it passed him, which he handed to his sister.
He was not so fortunate with the cream, which he
could not pour into his cup without spilling, and was
much irritated at seeing the squirrels, who were all
standing in a row behind May’s chair, evidently
laughing to themselves at his awkwardness.

‘JT don’t see why your servants should laugh,’ said
he rather crossly. ‘It is an absurd thing to have such
a table like this for your five o’clock tea. It would be
v.] HARRY’S DREAM. 271

 

all very well if one happened to be a juggler or con-
juror, or anything of that kind, but I don’t see any
fun in it as it is.

‘Fun in it?’ said the little brown gentleman at
once. ‘No, of course not, but you see tea on it, which
is much better. Who ever saw fun in a tea-table ?’

“You know what I mean, quite well,’ replied
Harry, by no means improved in temper by this
rejoinder. ‘And I don’t see why you should turn
everything a fellow says into a joke. I say it is stupid
to have a table which never stands still—I know I
wouldn’t have one in my room at Eton if I knew it’

‘Probably not,’ remarked the old gentleman in a
grave tone. ‘Probably not. But then we know that
everything is exactly as it should be at Eton. There
is a wisdom and consistency in the arrangement of
that ancient school which we in Fairyland immensely
admire, but which we cannot hope to equal.’

‘Well, cried Harry, naturally pleased to hear
praise of the place of which all Etonians are so proud,
‘I’m glad you stick up for the old school, at all
events !’

‘Who would not do so ?’ replied his friend. ‘ Fairies,
who love absurdities of all kinds, could hardly help
giving their approval to that excellent place of educa-
tion.

‘Absurdities!’ exclaimed the boy. ‘I don’t
understand what you mean,’

‘Oh dear no! not at all!’ observed the old gentle-
man sarcastically. ‘There is nothing absurd about
Eton ways and Eton ideas at all. It isn’t the least
absurd, for instance, to make it essential to a boy’s
272 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [v.

 

education that he should come up to a certain stan-
dard in mathematics, which not five boys in a hundred
ever need or do look at again in after life, and to make
a knowledge of French and German a secondary and
minor consideration, which would be of material ad-
vantage, probably, to ninety-five boys out of the same
number. It isn’t the least absurd, either, (though it
isn’t Eton’s fault, poor thing) to take pains to get a
good Head Master, and then, instead of leaving him to
command, as the colonel of a regiment does, those over
whom he is placed, to put over him a Governing Body
who know nothing at all, except theoretically, about
education or the management of boys, and whose only
chance of being useful is never to interfere at all.
And your own peculiar Eton ways are not absurd at.
all, either. Oh no! You don’t call it “six o’clock
lesson” when you go into school at seven ; when your
“presence” is necessary to answer to your names ‘in:
the school-yard, you don’t call it “ absence ;” and when
you are ill, and have to stay zz, you néver term it
“staying out/” Oh no! there’s nothing absurd about
Eton at all!’

These words, and the tone of the old gentleman,
not unnaturally irritated Harry considerably, and he
began to prepare to answer in an angry manner. He
felt bound to make a gallant defence of the Governing
Body (so dear to those Etonians who think their
school has been improved by its constitution), to vindi-
cate the necessity of mathematics (so beloved by all
boys, and the comfort and solace in after life of every-
one who, whatever his natural taste may be, has been
forced to study them), and toexplain the school phrases,
v.] HARRY’S DREAM. 273

which the old gentleman had so palpably misunder-
stood and misrepresented. Before, however, he could
say a word, May gave a tremendous yawn, which,
under all the circumstances of the case, was not re-
markable.

‘Dear me!’ she said, ‘what nonsense you two
are talking about! Do choose some more amusing
subject.’

Harry instantly stopped, for he felt that May was
quite right, and that it was hardly fair upon her to
discuss matters about which she knew nothing, and
probably cared less. So by way of changing the con-
versation he remarked, ‘What an odd fancy it is to
have squirrels for servants! Don’t they wear out their
livery, climbing about in the trees?’

‘Dear me!’ said the old gentleman, ‘how very
foolish you are, if you will excuse me for saying so.
Fairy livery doesn’t tear so easily, and squirrels are
first-rate servants: clean, active, sharp, and capital
fellows to get up early in the morning, which is more
than can be said for some servants. But now you
mention them, we will have tea taken away. So
saying, he made a sign to the attendant squirrels, who
instantly ran forward, and with graceful alacrity re-
moved the table and tea-things.

‘Now,’ said May, ‘somebody tell me a story,
please.’

Harry looked at the little brown gentleman, and
the little brown gentleman looked at Harry, but
neither of them seemed inclined to begin. Then the
other nudged Harry and whispered in his ear, but
so loud that May could hear quite easily, ‘You begin.

T
274 - WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND. [v.

 

She knows all my stories, and she’s frightfully particu-
lar about not having the same stories told over again’

Harry was quite ready to oblige; so he coughed
and cleared his throat, as people do when they are
going to sing, or tell a story, or anything for which
they wish the company to be silent and give their
attention. Then he began—‘ Once upon a time ;

‘Stop!’ said May. ‘I want to know why people
always begin their stories like that. “Once upon a
time.” What does it mean? Why omce—more than
twice—why not twice under an eternity instead of once
upon a time—I don’t see the reason for it at all.
Don’t begin so.’ ;

Harry cleared his throat again and said, ‘In days
now long gone by

‘Stop!’ cried May again. ‘ 7haz isn’t the least
bit better than the other. Why “in” days more than
“out of” days? Why only “ days,” either? what have
the poor nights done to be left out, and why “ow”
long ago, it was “then” long ago, wasn’t it ?’

At this second interruption Harry was rather
annoyed. ‘Really,’ said he, ‘one cannot tell a story
if one is to be interrupted every moment.’

‘Nonsense!’ replied May; ‘it’s your own fault.
Begin properly, can’t you ?’

So Harry, determined not to take offence where
none was intended to be given, began once more. ‘A
king lived in a far country——~

‘Please don’t be so silly,’ again interrupted his
sister. ‘Of course he lived, we know that—but why
a far country more than a near country? if it was far
from some places it was near to others, wasn’t it?

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

HARRY’S DREAM
v.] HARRY’S DREAM. 275

 

And why a king ?. other people lived there, I suppose,
as well ashim. Ihave no patience with kings who
live alone. Tell us something better than chat /’

‘TI shall tell you nothing at all, replied Harry, ‘if
you keep on interrupting so: it’s no use trying to tell
you a story. Let the old gentleman try!’

‘/ tell a story!’ shouted that individual loudly.
‘Never did such a thing in my life. J always tell the
truth,

‘ How tiresome you are!’ said Harry ; ‘you know
perfectly well that we are not talking about sat kind
of story—but a real history of something that hap-
pened to somebody at some time or other,’

“Oh! my dear!’ interposed May,‘ I am sure you
have put a great many too many “somes” and
“ somebodies” into that sentence. Speak properly or
not at all.’

‘To speak a proper-lie would be to tell a story,
gravely interposed the little brown gentleman.

“No punning allowed!’ cried May, and instantly
jumping up, gave the speaker a tremendous box on
the ears. To Harry’s utter astonishment, off came
the old gentleman’s head with the blow, and began
rolling away as hard as it could over the lawn, pre-
serving the most imperturbable gravity upon its coun-
tenance all the while, and avoiding the flower-beds
with the greatest dexterity. His body at first re-
mained immovable, but presently took its seat in one
of the chairs as gravely as if nothing unusual had oc-
curred, and stretching out one of its hands, recovered
the brown wide-awake, which had dropped upon the

ground from the effects of the blow, and calmly
T2
276 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [v.

 

placed it upon the table. Harry, however, was still
more amazed when he saw that May, instead of show-
ing the smallest signs of sorrow for what she had done,
or pity for the sufferer, instantly darted forward in
pursuit of the head, kicking at it repeatedly with great
violence, just for all the world as if it had been a
foot-ball ; the head, however, eluded her kicks continu-
ally, winking at Harry all the time in a knowing
manner as he did so, until at last May got so vexed
at her want of success that she suddenly stopped and
cried out in a loud voice, ‘It isn’t fair—no one
can catch a dodging idiot of a head like that, and I
won't try any more. I say, Harry /’

The words rang through his ears like the blast of
a trumpet, and—-Harry awoke! Yes. He awoke,
and there he was seated on the mossy bank where he
had sat down to rest, the woodland sounds still about
him, the woodland beauties all around, and not least
among them, his own dear sister May standing close
to him and laughing merrily.

‘Harry, dear!’ she said, ‘how sound asleep you
were! I have been gathering flowers all round
you for this ten minutes without your ever hearing
me, and I shouldnit have woke you now, only the
dressing bell has rung ever so long, and we shall be
late for dinner if we don’t go home directly,’

Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes as if he meant
to bring them out of his head, then he looked at May
in a confused, dreamy kind of way.

‘But where’s the little brown gentleman’s head ??
he asked.

‘On his shoulders, I suppose,’ replied his sister,
v.] ffTARRY’S DREAM. 277

 

laughing ; ‘I have seen no little brown gentleman
except the rabbits, of whom there are plenty about.’

Harry could not quite understand it yet. As to
having been asleep, he might perhaps have dozed a
little, but what he had seen and heard had been too
real and vivid not to be true. Besides, there, straight
before his eyes, was the very identical branch from
which the little brown gentleman had been dangling
when he first saw him, and he felt quite convinced that
he could not be far off at that moment. However,
when he questioned May again, and found that she
only laughed at the whole thing, and told him he had
certainly had a most amusing dream, it was evident
that it was useless to expect from her any further in-
formation upon the subject. The only thing to be
done, in fact, was to go home with her and dress for
dinner, which accordingly he did.

The brother and sister walked through the beauti-
ful old wood together, laughing and talking to each
other, in the full enjoyment of one of the sweetest
ties of kindred affection which Heaven has given to
mortals. Remember, you brothers, who chance to
read this little story, that a sister’s love is among the
greatest blessings which your boyhood will ever have,
and happy are you if you know how to value and ap-
preciate that blessing. Remember too, sisters, that
- you will not find many friends in life so firm
and true and faithful as a brother. Remember,
both brothers and sisters, that according as you
value and cherish this tie of relationship in early
life, so will the memories of your youth at home be
happy or the reverse. Harry and May loved nothing
278 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND, [v.

better than to be together, and right happy were the
Eton holidays which they spent in the old home at
Northwell Park. On this afternoon they rambled
homewards through the old wood and across the park,
and as they did so, they talked of many things and
people, but their thoughts principally ran upon the
strange dream—if dream it was—that had come to
Harry under the shade of the old beech. I cannot
tell you more about it now than that Harry would
never, from that day to this, allow that it was a dream.
Perhaps he had other visions afterwards which con-
firmed him in this idea. Perhaps he had more visits
of a friendly character from the little brown gentle-
man. Ifso, I hope I shall hear of some of them and
be able to tell them to you at some future time.
When the sun is hot, and the green leaves of the
neighbouring woods tempt me to wander beneath
their friendly shade, I, too, like Harry, like to rest
upon mossy banks and listen to all the soothing
sounds of woodland life. Then it is that tiny feet
come tripping around me, tiny voices whisper in mine
ears, and the wondrous legends of Fairyland are told
me by those who alone have the right to tell them ;
they come to me so kindly and they speak so softly
and sweetly, and their loveliness of face and
figure is like But, Hush! I must not say any-
thing else about them, or they will be angry and
come no more. So I will not say another word upon
the subject, and will only promise that if Harry has
another visit from his friend, and tells me about it, I
will not keep the knowledge to myself, but will as
soon as possible take steps to let my friends know as

 
v.] HIARRY’S DREAM. 279

 

much of the matter as Ido. I know that the dream
(if dream it was, which I very much doubt) did Harry
a great deal of good. True it is, he could never look
at old Watkins without laughing at the idea of his
head being stuck as an annual in the little brown
gentleman’s flower-beds, but at the same time he
never ‘confounded,’ the worthy man again, and
whilst unable invariably to respect him as an umpire,
always gave him credit for good intentions, and for-
bore to question his decisions even when they resulted
so unpleasantly to himself as on the occasion of the
Prye and Northwell match. And this is all I can
at present tell you about the meeting between Harry
Sanderson and the Little Brown Gentleman.
280 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND, [vL

Vi.
THE RED BARON.

THERE was once a young man who, having a good
house of his own, lots of money, and, plenty of friends,
became, as a natural consequence, exceedingly discon-
tented with himself and everybody about him. Having
nothing to do but to amuse himself, it followed as a
matter of course that nothing amused him. Every-
thing about him seemed dull and stupid, and the plea-
. sures of other people were to him wearisome beyond
measure. Riding was insipid—shooting bored him
—cricket was too much exertion—and as for croquet,
he positively detested its very name. Under these
circumstances, life became a burden to him, and he
frequently remarked that there was nothing worth
living for in the world. This feeling took such strong
hold upon his mind that it was very doubtful whether
he would not have taken measures to get rid of that
which he found himself so utterly unable to enjoy, had
not an occurrence taken place which turned his
thoughts into an entirely novel and different channel. .
He casually encountered a great traveller, who had
visited every quarter of the globe and was full of
anecdotes of things and people of whom our hero had
scarcely ever heard.. He listened with attention to
v1] THE RED BARON. 281

this gentleman’s stories, some of which were of a very
interesting and exciting character, and became at last
fired with an earnest desire to travel and see for himself
all the wonderful things of which he heard. There was
little difficulty about his doing so, inasmuch as he had
no person to control and no business to hinder him, and
it soon became evident to his friends that he had quite
made up his own mind upon the subject. He was
perfectly resolved to travel in search of adventures ;
and as no one had any interest in attempting
to dissuade him from the undertaking, he found it
easy to make his arrangements, and was prepared to
start almost before he had made up his mind where
to go to. Upon one point, however, he was firmly
resolved, namely, that he would travel alone, without
servant or equipage, being of opinion that in this
manner he should enjoy himself more, and should
be more likely to encounter the adventures which he
desired. Accordingly, having packed such things as
he considered absolutely essential into a knapsack, he
slung the latter across his shoulders, and set out upon
his journey with courage in his heart, a stout oaken
staff in his hand, and a green ‘wideawake’ on his
head.

For many miles our traveller pursued his way
without the occurrence of any incident worthy of
notice: sometimes the weather was bright and fine,
which had a palpable effect upon his spirits, and caused
him to step forward upon his journey with light and
elastic steps ; sometimes it rained, which generally had
the effect of damping his ardour as well as his clothes,
and suggesting the idea that he had much better have

 
282 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [vr.

 

stayed at home. However, having once undertaken
the expedition he determined to persevere, and so
kept on walking from day to day until he reached a
part of the world to which he was an entire stranger,
and about sunset upon a fine December afternoon
entered a large straggling village which seemed to
promise rest and shelter for the night.

As he felt rather in want of both, our hero strode
cheerfully along that which appeared to be the village
street, looking right and left for some inn at, which his
wants might be supplied. For some time, however, he
could see nothing of the kind, nor did he encounter a
human being of any sort, size, or description from
whom he might obtain information as tothe nearest and
best place of entertainment. This struck him as rather
strange, but at first he set it down as being probably
the fashion of the country for people not to stay out
after a certain hour, and as it was already drawing
towards evening, so far from blaming those who had
sought the shelter of their roofs, he felt all the more
inclined to follow their example. Having, however,
unfortunately no roof at hand to shelter him, he was
rather disconcerted at the apparent absence of popula-
tion, and still more so when, having knocked at the
doors of several of the houses, he received no answer
whatever. This, however, might proceed either from
the absence of the inhabitants, who, as he judged from
the vast forests near at hand, were probably wood-
cutters, who camped out at night when working at a
distance from home, or from their being assembled
together at some place of entertainment in the neigh-
bourhood.
v1. THE RED BARON. 283

 

None such, however, could he find, and the situa-
tion was beginning to be uncomfortable, when upon
his rapping hard at the door of a small cottage, an old
woman put her head out of the window close by, and
asked what he wanted. As she spoke a language
which he could by no means understand, he had some
difficulty in explaining that he desired food and a
night’s lodging. When at last she comprehended his
meaning, she shook her head vehemently as regarded
his latter request, but presently thrust her hand out of
the window with a moderate-sized, black-looking loaf
of bread which looked anything but inviting, but which
our friend was fain to accept under the circumstances
in which he found himself. Still, bread was not
shelter, and he began to wonder where he should have
to pass the night.

Suddenly, however, as he moved along the road,
and had almost passed the village, he saw two large
gates at the entrance of what seemed to be an old
avenue immediately upon the right hand. The gates
were very old, and one of them stood partly open, so
that he had no difficulty in entering. Having done so,
he argued to himself that as most avenues led to
houses, it was probable that this one formed no excep-
tion to the general rule. So he marched boldly up the
avenue for at least half a mile, and then found himself
immediately opposite a large castle. There was a
moat around it, across which was an ancient draw-
bridge, on to which opened two large gates whose an-
tiquity prevented their forming any impediment to his
advance, especially as they stood wide open as if to
invite him to enter. He did so, and walked into a
284 WATSPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [vI.

small court-yard, which was completely overgrown
with grass, and looked as if neither the foot nor the
scythe of man had been there for years. Immediately
opposite him were doors, which, following the custom
of the place, were also ajar, and which opened into a
small stone-paved entrance hall, from which a passage
led straight forward into a large corridor.

The traveller paused for a moment to listen, but
hearing nothing, determined that his only course was
to seek for himself the lodging which he wanted, and
accordingly walked forward along the passage and
stood at the end deliberating whether to turn to the
right or left, as he appeared to be standing in about
the centre of the corridor. As it was quite chance
which was the best way, he eventually chose the right.
Accordingly he marched up the empty corridor, which
resounded with the noise “8 his footsteps, and the
old pictures which hung on its walls on either side
appeared to frown down upon him as if he was an
intruder, which, in fact, he decidedly was. Presently
he came to a door on each side, and after a moment’s
hesitation, again chose that on the right. It led into
a long apartment, which, at some time or other, must
have served for a dining-room or banqueting-hall in
which the former owner of the castle had feasted his
friends and vassals when inclined to be generous. Our
friend paused on the threshold of the door, and
meditated on various subjects suggested by the place.

‘Here, he thought, ‘has often sat the Baron to
whom this castle belonged in old days, if Baron he was
—and as most owners of castles in this part of the
world are Barons, unless they happen to be grand Dukes
vI.] THE RED BARON. 285

 

or Princes, I am probably not wrong in attributing to
him this title. Here, then, the old Baron has often sat
at the head of his table, drinking huge draughts of red
wine, or strong ale, and watching with paternal grati-
fication the revelry of his retainers. Perhaps some
poor wretches, taken prisoners in a raid against a
neighbouring village, have been bound to these great
pillars which seem to support the roof, and compelled
to watch the jovial proceedings of their captors, trem-
bling all the while with fear as to what their own fate
would be. Perhaps the castle has, at some time or
other, been stormed, and within this very hall the brave
old Baron has made a gallant stand to defend the
home of his forefathers against an invading force.
Perhaps ’ but at this point he suddenly recollected
that these romantic fancies would by no means satisfy
the cravings of hunger which beset him, and that he
might as well postpone them until he had partaken of
food and arranged his quarters for the night.

He strode forward, therefore, into the hall, and
proceeding to the farther end, found that the ancient
fireplace and chimney were of such an enormous size
that it would take.him a great deal more of time and
trouble to light a fire there than would be the case if
he could discover some smaller and more convenient
chamber. Accordingly, he left the hall by the same
door as that by which he had entered, principally
because he saw no other, and opening that immediately
opposite, perceived a noble old oak staircase before
him, which he proceeded to ascend without delay.
The stairs creaked under him as he advanced, they
had evidently been unused to be mounted for some

 
286 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [v1.

 

time, and showed their resentment in this manner, being
the only way which stairs have of expressing their
feelings. At the top he paused, and found himself in
a good-sized lobby, from which passages ran right and ~
left, and immediately in front of him were three doors.
Remembering the old Latin proverb, that the middle
is the safest place, he tried the handle of the middle
door, and entered a room which had evidently been a
bed-room, and, for the matter of that, was one still.
An ancient bedstead occupied one corner, a still more
ancient wardrobe filled another, a rickety old table stood
opposite the fireplace, while several chairs, in a state
of worm-eaten dilapidation, constituted the only other
furniture of the apartment. It was altogether rather
a comfortless place to look at, but at all events it was
a better spot to sleep in than the open air, and the
traveller had no doubt that matters would mend if he
could only light a fire and eat the supper for which
he was beginning to be more than anxious.

The fire did not seem to have been lighted in that
room for some time past, but that was no reason why
the fireplace should not be put to its proper use; and
as the old chairs appeared to be fit for little else than
fuel, for which they would serve most admirably, the
traveller determined to lose no time in setting about
the matter, and endeavouring to make himself as com-
fortable as the circumstances of the case would permit.
There was an old stump of a poker of which he could
make use, and some of the faded hangings of the bed
would admirably supply the place of paper. He ac-
cordingly tore some off without difficulty, placed it in
the grate, then proceeded deliberately to break up one
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE RED BARON
vi.J THE RED BARON. 287

 

of the old chairs, and carefully laid a fire, placing on
the top of the smaller bits of wood the large arm of a
venerable arm-chair which he thought would be sure
to smoulder on and last some way into the night.
Then, having previously placed his food upon the old
table, he drew the latter as near the fireplace as he
could, and, taking from his pocket a box of matches
which he always carried about him, struck a light, and
applied it to the bed-hangings in the grate. They
caught at once, and it seemed for a moment as if he
would very quickly have a blazing fire. But the wood
of the chairs seemed doubtful about catching light as
soon as our traveller could wish, and therefore he
knelt downgbefore the fireplace, stooped forward, and
lowering his head to the proper level, began to blow
softly at first and then more vigorously, in order to
kindle the flame which appeared to require this en-
couragement.

As he was thus employed, all of a sudden he re-
ceived a violent kick upon a part of his body which
in the stooping position that he had assumed was
naturally exposed to the attack of an enemy, and so
totally unexpected was the assault that he very nearly
fell forward against the bars of the grate. Enraged
beyond measure, and astonished even more than he
was enraged, at this extraordinary attack, at such a
time and in such a place, the traveller jumped up and
faced round in the greatest indignation.

“ At,a short distance from him stood a little Red
man: indisputably and decidedly a little Red man,
for everything he had on was of that colour, even to
the conical-shaped hat upon his head, like the paper
288 WHAISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [vI.

 

foolscaps which children make for each other, and the
boots upon hisfeet, the toes of which turned up after the
fashion of a Chinaman’s shoes. Red he was in dress,
and as nearly red as possible in the colour of his face,
but whether that arose from natural causes or from
temporary irritation it was impossible to say off-hand.
He was choking with suppressed passion. His red
eyebrows frowned over his curious ruby eyes, his red
whiskers stood out as if each hair was in a rage, sepa-
rately, by itself, and his nose and cheeks shone like
the shell of a lobster as the light from the now kindled
fire fell upon them. He could scarcely have been
four feet high, and there was nothing very powerful
in his make, nor did he carry arms which might have
made him appear more formidable than his appearance
would have otherwise led you to suppose. But, for-
midable or not, there he stood, speechless and bursting
with rage, and the sight was really so ludicrous that
the traveller would scarcely have been able to restrain
himself from an immoderate fit of laughter if it had
not been that he still felt the force with which the toe
of the little Red man had been fundamentally applied
to himself. Assuming therefore, an angry tone, as
soon as he had sufficiently recovered from his surprise,
he thus addressed the new comer :—

‘How dare you behave in this aaah? Is this
the way you treat strangers in your country?) What
do you mean by this cowardly assault ?’

The eyes of the little Red man glared fearfully as
the traveller spoke these words, and as soon as they
were finished, he jumped at least half his own height
in the air with fury, and then replied as follows :—
vi.] THE RED BARON. 289

‘Assault ? you may call it a salt, or a pepper and
a mustard into the bargain, if you please. How dare
you come into a fellow’s house and break up his chairs
like this without asking leave? Why, here have I
lived two hundred and fifty years in this place, and
never a man before has had the audacity to do what
you are doing. Paint me green if I stand it!’ and
he jumped up again in his fury, coming down in
dangerous proximity to the traveller’s toes.

‘Paint you green!’ said the latter, ‘with all my
heart, so that I could make you the “ Green Man and
still,” for if you jump about in this way you'll presently
do mischief. But allow me respectfully to observe
that if you have really occupied this castle so long, its
condition reflects no little discredit upon you, whether
you be owner or tenant. It is evident that carpenters
and bricklayers have not been inside the house for
many a long year; it wants painting dreadfully, and
its general state of repair, or rather of non-repair, is
absolutely disgraceful to all concerned.’

‘What’s that to you, man?’ angrily asked the
other. ‘The castle is not yours and never will be—
why can’t you leave it to take care of itself?”

‘ Because,’ calmly replied the young man, ‘there
appears to be no inn in the village, and nowhere else
for a travellerto obtain anight’s lodging; and this being
the case, I could do nothing else except come here.’

‘But, remarked the little red man, looking the
other steadily in the face, and somewhat calming down
from his previous state of fury, ‘didn’t they tell you
the castle was haunted ?’.

‘Perhaps they did and perhaps they didn’t,’ said

U ‘
290 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [v1.

 

the traveller; ‘but really one cannot be turned away
from the only available shelter by such trifles as chaz.
Ghosts and such things are all very well in their way,
and may do a great deal of harm to people who
choose to be afraid of them. But there is something
much worse than any ghost that ever yet made a fool
of himself by coming when he wasn’t wanted, and
that something is a bad cold, which I should certainly
have caught if I had passed this December night in
the open air. Bad colds, too, not unfrequently pro-
duce rheumatic fevers; so, all things considered, I
think I have done what any sensible fellow would
have done in coming here.’

‘Ain't you afraid, then?’ asked the little red man.
‘Look at me and tremble!’ and so saying he began
to make the most hideous grimaces you can imagine,
puffing out his cheeks, glaring with his eyes, and
twisting his limbs into the most curious and unnatural
contortions.

‘Afraid?’ said the traveller in a tone of surprise.
‘What is there to be afraid of ina little chap like you
who comes in and gives one a kick when one isn’t
looking? I wonder you ain’t afraid yourself of the
probable consequences of such a cowardly attack upon
a fellow so much bigger than yourself; and as to trem-
bling, I don’t myself see what there is to tremble at
in a little muff that comes and twists his face into an
uglier grimace than that which nature has fixed upon
it. Goodness knows you're frightful enough without
making yourself any worse!’

At these words the little red man waxcd more
furious than ever.
vi] THE RED BARON. 291

 

‘But you must be frightened!’ hescreamed out,‘ you
shall be frightened! All the people about here are
frightened at me, if I ever deign toshow myself to them!’

‘More fools they,’ responded the traveller, and then
added in a meditative tone, ‘I have always thought
that ghosts were only terrible on account of the folly
of mortals which makes them so. There caz be
nothing terrible in them really, if people would only
treat them in an ordinary manner.’

“You shalt be frightened, though, said the little red
man in a threatening tone, ‘before you leave this castle!’

‘Very likely, remarked the traveller with imper-
turbable calmness. ‘I never said I shouldn’t. However,
now that my fire has burnt up, allow me, thanking you
kindly for your chairs, if indeed they ave yours, to sit
down to my supper. I would ask you to join me, in
spite of your rudeness, only unfortunately I haven’t
got enough here for two.’

‘Well!’ exclaimed the other in a tone of surprise,
‘I wll say you are the coolest hand I have seen for
many a long day. I say! I know where there is some
wonderful old madeira in this castle. If I fetcha
bottle, shall we share it ?’

‘Oh you old rascal!’ said the traveller, who by
this time had drawn up the best of the remaining
chairs to the table, and, seating himself thereupon, had
begun to make preparations for his meal. ‘Oh you
old scamp! You are up to your tricks, I know! You
would doctor the bottle, and I should find myself
bewitched, or changed into a ghost mysclf, or some-
thing uncomfortable before morning’

‘No!’ cried the little red man. ‘Upon the honour

U2
292 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [vI.

 

of a ghost and a gentleman I mean fair. And what’s
more, that black-looking loaf of bread and musty old
cheese looks but poor fare for a fellow like you. I will
give you something better. To say the truth, I like
your pluck: you are the first fellow I have seen here
who has not been frightened out of his wits at me or
my friends, for there are quite a company of us here.
You shall be rewarded for your courage. I don’t mean
-to say Iam going to show you buried treasure or to tell
you something wonderful which will happen if you do
some feat which you would probably much rather not
have to do, and which would be no real good to any-
body if you dd. But this I can and will promise you.
I will bring you up a supper which you shall find good
enough to please you; I will share that supper with you ;
and you shall go forward on your journey to-morrow
in no respect the worse for your night passed in the
Haunted Castle. All I will ask of you is to promise
not to go and tell a lot of other fellows what has hap-
pened to you here, because it might be unpleasant.’

‘That I will readily promise,’ said the traveller;
‘and as I really think you seem a respectable kind of
ghost, who would not seek to take a mean advantage
of a fellow, I will take you at your word and trust
to you for the supper.’

‘Done along with you!’ cried the little red man at
this: ‘Wait here a bit, and keep up the fire. I will
be back again in the twinkling of an eyelid’

So saying, he left the room, and the traveller pro-
ceeded to break up another chair so as to keep the
fire going, and then drawing the next best one he
could find up to the table, placed it on the other side,
v1] THE RED BARON. 293

 

and awaited the return of the strange individual with
whom he had just made acquaintance. True to his
word, the latter was gone but a very few minutes, and
when he re-entered the room, it was with a tray which
he carefully deposited upon the table before he took
his seat. Upon the tray was a gigantic pasty of ap-
petising appearance to the hungry traveller, and, more
than the pasty, there was an addition to the supper
which made his eyes gleam with pleasure. Not one,
but four bottles of the old madeira stood side by side
together, the cobwebs still clinging to them with
affectionate tenacity, and their appearance giving every
promise of internal goodness.

‘You're a regular brick, I declare!’ cried the
traveller as the little red man arranged the tray com-
fortably upon the table.

‘Ah!’ replied the other, ‘that is just what my
poor old friend Smith (he was from England, too, as
I see you are) used to say—let me see—just two
hundred and thirteen years ago come next Lady-day,
when he died.’

‘What sort of a chap was /e when he was at home?’
asked the traveller carelessly, as he watched his com-
panion, who had now taken up a large silver-handled
knife and a fork of similar description, and was pro-
ceeding to cut a large slice out of the dish before him.

‘IT don’t know what he may have been at home,’
said he, ‘but he was a right good fellow out here, and
would have married my daughter—-only he didn’t.’

‘Why not?’ demanded the other.

‘Ah!’ said the little red man, ‘that’s a long story,
and perhaps you wouldn't care to hear it. Have some
pasty?’
294 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [vr

 

‘I should think so! Just a little!’ laughed the
traveller. ‘Never was so hungry in my life! But I
should like to hear that story all the same. By Jove!
this is a Venison Pasty, and first-rate too!’

‘Glad to hear it, I’m sure, observed his host. ‘ You
shall hear the story after supper, if you really care
to do so. Meanwhile let’s have a glass of madeira
together. Got a corkscrew ?’

‘To be sure I have, returned the traveller.
‘Never travel without such things.’ So saying, he
pulled out a large clasp knife, part of which formed a
strong corkscrew, and with this he carefully extracted
the cork of one of the bottles near him, and with much
caution wiped the mouth of the bottle with a clean
pocket-handkerchief. Then he filled two large wine
glasses which his host had brought upon the tray, for
ghosts do not, any more than mortals, like to drink
out of the bottle if they can help it.

The two looked at each other; bowed ; took a
long sip at the wine, and then by a simultaneous and
knowing wink of the eye, bore testimony to its excel-
lence. So excellent indeed was it, that they very
soon filled their glasses again. Their attacks upon the
pasty, meantime, were frequent, and sustained with so
much vigour that the mighty fabric began to melt
away and disappear before the joint appetites which
it had to satisfy. At last both laid down their knives
and forks, and mutually acknowledged that they could
do no more that night in the way of eating. Then
they drew their chairs one on each side of the fire-
place, replenished the fire once more, uncorked such
of the madeira bottles as had not yet undergone that
vi] THE RED BARON. 295

 

process, and arranged themselves as cosily and com-
fortably as if they had been man and wife, or two
college companions, or two gentlemen tired of a good
day’s hunting, instead of a weary traveller in a haunted
castle and the identical ghost who had given that
castle its reputation.

After a few minutes devoted to reflection and
digestion, the latter of which was necessary to the
traveller, if not to his companion, the latter gravely
enquired whether his new friend objected to smoke,
and an answer in the negative having been returned,
drew from his pocket a pipe, coloured red like every-
thing else belonging to him, which he presently
lighted, and began to puff away with great assiduity.
Our friend, nothing loth to follow so excellent an
example, produced his own pipe and set to work to
enjoy himself after the same fashion. For some few
moments they smoked in silence, until the traveller,
who was always for making the most of opportunities
which threw themselves in his way when on a
journey, bethought him of what had fallen from his
companion at the commencement of their supper, and
asked him whether he felt inclined to relate to him
the story to which he had alluded. With a deep
sigh, as if the request had evoked painful memories,
the little red man said that he would not refuse.

‘ Still” remarked he, ‘I would have you know
that the story is one which I would only tell to a
boon companion like yourself. You eat with an
appetite worthy of a peasant—you drink with a relish
worthy of a prince—you smoke also like one who
knows how to enjoy it, and not like those numerous
296 WAISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [vI.

 

fools who do it because they think it fine or fashion-
able, without the least enjoyment in the world. Al-
together, I hold you to be a capital fellow, and
henceforward I shall always entertain for you feelings
of esteem—I may even say regard. This being the
case, I shall not refuse to tell you the story of my
life, or rather of that part of it which ‘relates to your
compatriot Smith. I know you will forgive me if I
should become affected during the recital. The story
relates to events which happened long ago, but which
will never be effaced from my memory as long as I
am a ghost.” So saying, the little red man once
more sighed deeply, and then, after a long pull at his
pipe and one more glass of madeira, began as follows :—

* Some two hundred and twenty years ago, I was
the baron who owned this castle and a fair domain to
boot—though why one should say “to boot” rather
than “to shoe” or “to stocking” is a thing which has
always puzzled me considerably. I was in the prime
of life, strong, hearty, as wealthy as need be, and
pretty well feared, if not respected, in the neighbour-
hood. I say I was not respected, and in fact it was
hardly possible to respect me, for a more desperate
scamp than I was could hardly be found anywhere in
the country. I lived a bad life. I drank hard,-I
swore hard, I lived hard altogether, and none of the
neighbours cared to cross my path if they could pos-
sibly avoid it. I had been engaged in constant feuds
with my brother-barons ever since I came to the
property, and by force or cunning had got the better
of all of them with whom I had come to open rup-
ture. Some there were who fawned upon and flat-
  
   

¢ 297
tered me, and with™ Kept on good terms,
though they had, so to say, to eat dirt in order to
avoid falling out with me, for I brooked no inter-
ference and no contradiction whatever, and did what
I pleased when I pleased and where I pleased always,
wiaich was my idea of enjoying life as a Baron should
emjoy it.’

‘Why, what an old rascal you must have been!’
here iterrupted the traveller.

THe little red man frowned. ‘If you interrupt,’
he said, ‘I shall shut up directly. I have already
told you what a bad fellow I was, and I don’t think it
very civil of you to recall attention to the fact.’

‘Upon my word, I beg your pardon,’ said the
traveller. ‘It was very thoughtless of me, and quite
unnecessary.’

‘Don’t do it again, then!’ observed the other
severely ; and then, taking another whiff of his pipe
and another glass of madeira, continued his narrative.

“My fame in battle had become considerable, and
not only my fame in battle, but my reputation for
cruelty had also spread abroad near and far. To tell
you the truth, I was naturally of a merciful disposi-
tion. I could not bear the idea of immuring poor
creatures in the dungeons of my castle (which are
exceedingly damp and unpleasant even at the present
day), or of subjecting them to torture in order to ex-
tract ransom from their friends. These things were
done, I knew, by other barons, but for my part I al-
ways thought it best to kill people outright rather
than resort to such expedients. Besides, I hated to
be troubled with prisoners, and altogether I made up
   

298 WHISPERS FROM -FAIRVLAND. [vi.

 

my mind when I first began’ my life of warfare that
the most desirable plan really was to take everything
you could get from the people you conquered, and
then to put them out of their misery as soon as pos-
sible. The world, however, taking a different view of
the matter, called my proceedings cruel, and in con-
sequence of them gave me the distinguishing title of
the Red Baron, because of the blood which I was,
with some reason, supposed to have shed. I may
mention to you, in passing, that this name, which has
stuck to me in the spirit world, has been the cause of
my being obliged to wear always garments of the
colour which you have doubtless remarked, and of
which I confess I sometimes get uncommonly tired.
“Well, the name of the Red Baron, now almost
forgotten, save in legends of the timid peasants, was
well enough known in my lifetime. Now, indeed, I
wish heartily enough that it had been known for Sood
instead of evil deeds. But it is too late to talk of
that. My home life was not so happy as it might
have been. I married the daughter of a neighbour-
ing baron, who was partly engaged to somebody else.
That was the chief reason why I wished to marry
her. She was beautiful, certainly, but so were many
others, and I did not particularly care for her. But
she had slighted me once, or I fancied she had, which
came to the same thing with me in those days.
Moreover, I knew she loved the other fellow, and he
was fond of her—devoted, I may say. I hated /zm,
so I resolved to marry her, which I was able -to ac-
complish through the hold I had upon her old fool of
a father, who was rather richer than his neighbours
VI.J THE RED BARON. 299

 

 

(an additional reason for me to marry his daughter),
and dreadfully afraid that if he refused me anything,
I should come and take it. He wasn’t far wrong,
either, for when I had made up my mind to marry his
daughter, marry her I would, if I had had to carry
her off from her father’s castle. It didn’t come to
that though! ‘The old fellow pretended to be over-
joyed at my proposal—the girl made some show of
resistance at first, and appealed to my better feelings,
forsooth, saying that she loved another. That I
knew before, but to make matters more certain I
had the favoured lover dealt with after a summary
fashion. He was found dead at the foot of a high
cliff one fine morning, having got there from the top
in a manner incompatible with the preservation of
life. Then matters went more smoothly. Adeline
resisted no longer. She behaved like a lamb,
obeyed her father without demur, and became the
bride of the Red Baron.

‘I wish I could say that I can look back upon my
married life with any feelings of satisfaction. She
was too good for me, Poor Adeline! hers was a sad
existence. I don’t think she ever quite got over the
loss of that fellow, for she had really loved him.
However, she did her duty by me, only she irritated
me beyond measure by trying to persuade me to give
up some of what she called my wicked ways. Her
advice and tears had not, I regret to say, the slightest
effect upon me, and I went on just the same. We had
three children: Rudolf, Frederick, and Christina,
They were little things still when their mother died.
That was through me, too. I don’t mean to say I ever
300 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. {v1.

 

struck her or was cruel to her save by neglect and by
words. Not so bad as that was I, though bad enough
in every other way. But one evening when I had had
my fill of liquor, and was going on in my old ways,
and boasting of some cruel exploit or other, my wife
expostulated and advised until she drove me nearly
wild. In a moment of bitter folly I taunted her
about the lover of her youth, and let her know that
his death was no accident. Never will her look of
horror be effaced from. my memory. She started
back from me with disgust. With all my faults, she
had never deemed me capable of wilful, deliberate
assassination. In her pure soul she could not have
imagined such a depth of wickedness to be possible.
It broke her heart. She never held up her head
again, and left me-with those three children in this
old castle, a lonely widower, with my good angel
taken from me for ever.

‘I never married again. I never cared much for
any of the other sex, save and except for that
daughter of whom I spoke to you at first. Christina
was the apple of my eye. My pet, my darling, my
own beautiful child—I can scarcely speak of you
now. At this point the little red man paused, lit
his pipe, which had gone out, gave a whiff or two,
replenished and emptied another glass of madeira,
heaved one more sigh, and then continued his story,
in which the traveller had become so much interested
that he took very good care not to interrupt.

‘My sons grew up strong and vigorous; they
hunted and shot, scaled the mountains and explored
the forests, excelling in every active and manly sport.
vI.] THE RED BARON. 301

 

I saw but little of them—they feared more than they
loved me, and no wonder it was so, for I was a hard
father, and the only good 1 did for them was to
refrain from making them ride with me in my raids
against neighbouring barons and others whom I
deemed it proper to attack when it suited me. Their
mother had begged me to leave them at home on
these occasions, and I did this little in atonement for
the wrong I had done that angel-woman. But my
daughter was always with me when I was at home.
Home would not have been home without her. She
was the light and life of the castle. Everybody and
everything loved her. The horses knew her footsteps
and neighed when she passed their stable—the dogs
preferred a friendly pat from her to the caresses of
anybody else—whilst as for my retainers, there was
not one who would not willingly have laid down his
life for the young Baroness.

‘We had an affliction to endure ‘eetiiel which
rendered us still more dear to each other, for my
daughter loved me; yes, me, the cruel wretch, the
plague of the neighbourhood, the Red Baron! She
loved me, I say, and it is my one happy thought
now to have been loved by that sweet saint. The
affliction I mean was the loss of my second boy
Frederick. As if to punish me especially, he fell
from the very cliff from which I had caused my poor
wife's lover to be thrown, and was killed in the
same manner as that unhappy wretch. The blow
fell upon me with unusual severity, for I had always

-made the boy my favourite of the two brothers,
and the manner and place of the accident affected
302 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [v1.

me strangely. Christina was my only comfort, for
Rudolf was not confident enough with me, or perhaps
not fond enough of me, to play the part of consoler.
‘It was during this period of mourning that your
compatriot came amongst us. Sir Smith the Eng-
lander, we called him. You had some internal wars
going onamong yourselves at thattime. So, at least,
I gathered from his conversation. Your king had an
enemy which was called Parliament, and as he tried
to persuade and cajole his enemics instead of cutting
off their heads, as I should have done, he naturally
lost his own. I remember Sir Smith and I used often
to talk over the matter, for he had fought, had Sir
Smith, for the king, and had lost home and lands
when the cause failed; thus it was he came to us.
Far and wide had he wandered in search of adventure,
until he came inte our country, and heard (as who
had not heard?) of the Red Baron. He was in-
stantly seized with an uncontrollable desire to make
my acquaintance. Thunder and lightning! ¢hat was
not difficult to do, and he took the right way, too.
One day, when we were hunting the wolf in the
great forest which you passed some two miles beyond
the village, we suddenly perceived a stranger amongst
us. He bore him right gallantly in the chase, and
when one monster of a wolf was at bay, he it was
who outstripped our lazy knaves and slew the beast
with his own hand in a manner which mightily
pleased me. So instead of killing him, as I should
most likely have served a stranger whom I did not
fancy, I took to Sir Smith very kindly, brought him
home with me and established him in the castle. He
v1] THE RED BARON. 303

soon made himself quite at home. It is the way with
you Englanders wherever you are. You think the
world is made for you to enjoy, and you do enjoy it
wherever you find yourselves, without caring for any-
body else inthe matter. Sir Smith was an Englander
all over. He ate and drank with the best of us, he
shot and fished and hunted, and he was good at all
those little home amusements which women appreciate.
He treated Christina, not as a child or a fool, as men
often treat women, but as a reasonable being and his
own equal. He talked to her, not in extravagant
compliments and upon nonsensical subjects, but
about books, and flowers and birds, things about
which he knew much, and she, poor child, was able to
understand and to learn; then he sang with her and
rode with her, he drew sketches of her favourite views,
he admired her pet dogs and horses ; in short, he did
everything which an agreeable man could do to make
himself dear to the maiden he loved. He succeeded.
How should he not succeed? My child saw but few
persons of her own rank, and certainly none who could
compare with the Englander.

‘Sir Smith had travelled much ; he knew more of
men and things than most people whom I have met.
He acquired over me some influence, though not
enough to make me alter my life, even if he had set
his whole wits to work in order to effect that object,
which he certainly never did. But I liked him well
enough to allow him to go on as he was doing at the
castle, though I ‘might have known that if things
went on as he wished, it would end in his carrying off
from me the treasure and comfort of my life. But in
304. WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [v1.

 

truth, I did not often think of that matter, and when
I did, I said to myself, “ Mine is a rough life. Some
day enemies may prevail against me. Better the girl
were wedded to the Englander and far away before
such an evil day came upon our house.” So I let
things go on. Christina became more and more fond
of the Englander, and he was evidently devoted to
her.

‘There was one person, however, who took a
different view of the matter. Rudolf was very
warmly attached to his sister ; from the earliest hours
of childhood they had been companions and friends.
When I was enraged with the lad, which was often
the case upon slight cause, it was Christina who al-
ways stood between him and my wrath ; their mother
had bid him take care of and watch over his sister,
the one little lamb left to grow up in the nest of
wolves which my castle might well have been called,
and to stand by her whenever she needed a friend.
Well did Rudolf fulfil the charge. If her finger
ached, he would have ridden night and day in search
of a remedy, and his: life would have been freely
risked in her service at any moment.

‘Well, Rudolf did not like the Englander. I did not
know how it first began, nor can I now say which, if
either, was in fault. Perhaps Sir Smith took not
enough notice of the boy at first, and Rudolf was of
an age when boys like to be thought men, and to be
noticed by men. Then, no doubt, the lad grew jealous
when he found how much of his sister's time was
monopolised by the stranger, and how she gradually
grew to prefer his company even to that of her brother.
I saw, now and then, how things were going, but took
V1.] THE RED BARON. 305

 

no pains to stop it. Why should I interfere ? All would
go on rightly, I doubted not, and it rather amused me
tosee Rudolf lose his temper before the cool Englander,
who always had the best of it if they came to hot
words. There was no wise counsellor to set matters
straight. Christina, poor child, did her best, but she
seemed to have lost her influence with her brother in
this case. There had once been a chaplain in the
castle, who might have been of use at this time. But
in the earlier part of my career, I found chapels and
chaplains somewhat in my way, so I shut up the former
and kicked the latter out of the place. He used to
remonstrate against certain practices of mine which I
did not choose to relinquish; so out he went, and none
of his kind had entered the castle for many a long day.

‘At last matters came to a crisis. Sir Smith
formally demanded the hand of my daughter in
marriage. I had nothing to say against it, the
more particularly as he did not propose to take her
away from me for some time. His own country, he
said, was in confusion: he could not return there
until times should be quieter and the King should
have his own again, and therefore he would stay with
me for some time at least after my daughter should
have become his wife. So I gave my consent, and it
was settled that the marriage should take place.
Some difficulty, indeed, there was about getting a
priest, for those gentry did not love me, nor I them,
and they were not over ready to trust themselves
within the clutches of the Red Baron. This obstacle,
however, would no doubt have been got over, if other
events had not occurred.

x
306 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [vI.

 

‘Rudolf was furious at the projected wedding.
He abused Sir Smith so that Christina had to inter-
pose to prevent words coming to blows. He used to
me-—to me—his father and the Red Baron whom
everyone feared, words which made me mad. Never
would he have done so had I treated him as a father
should have done. I should have remembered this
and been more gentle than I was. But I was beside
myself with rage. J struck the boy: had I had a
weapon in my hand at the moment, I tremble to
think what might have been the consequence. I
struck him—he rushed from my presence and left the
castle that night.

‘What was to be done? He did not return next
morning, nor next, nor the morning after. We looked
everywhere ; we asked everybody; no one knew or
had heard anything of the lad. We had not news-
papers in those days as there are now. To-day, if a
dog or a watch is lost, the world knows it soon by
means of advertisements printed everywhere, and the
chances are that more dogs and watches are brought
to you than you thought would have been lost by all
the country in the time, especially if you have offered
enough reward. But in the good old times in which
I lived you might lose your son or yourself (if that
were possible) and no one would hear of it out of
your own immediate neighbourhood except by the
merest chance. Sowe could hear no news of Rudolf,
and those who cared about him were very uncomfort-
able.

‘I confess that I did not quite like it myself, for I
felt I had not done all I might have done for the
vi] THE RED BARON. 307

 

boy, and now that he was my only son—the sole hope
of my house, I was by no means anxious to lose him.
At the same time, Iam bound to say that I was so
selfish and bad at heart, that so long as things went
smoothly and easily with myself, I did not much care
what became of anybody else. And as to my suc-
cessor, what, after all, did it matter to me whether it
was my son or not? J must be gone and my fun
over, anyhow, before he came to the castle and
estates, and therefore it seemed to me that as far as I
was concerned it mattered little what happened here
afterwards. The true philosophy I held to be this—to
enjoy oneself as much as possible and let other people
look out for themselves. You needn’t smile con-
temptuously. I know wow that I was wrong, and
that happiness zzws¢ depend on other people, and that
to make others happy is the best and truest way of
being happy oneself. But I didn’t know it chen, or
at all events I didn’t act upon it. So when Rudolf
disappeared I was not nearly so much grieved as
might have been expected in the case of a better man,

‘Christina, however, was inconsolable. She cried
her dear eyes out at the loss of her brother. She was
sure he was dead. Nothing could comfort her, and
as to her marriage, she would not hear of it; so
that the boy had really taken the very best way in
the world to prevent the alliance he so much disliked.
It was rather hard upon the Englander, Nothing
that he could say was of the slightest use. No—he
must bring back her brother before she would have
anything more to say to him. This was doubly hard

upon Sir Smith, because, in the first place, he had not
X2
308 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [vI.

 

the remotest idea where to find the lost sheep, and in
the second place, if he had been able to do so, he
was the very last shepherd with whom it would have
returned.

‘So you may suppose that things went on rather
uncomfortably at the castle, and as a natural conse-
quence, I became very cross and morose. To make
a diversion, therefore, I determined upon undertaking
an expedition against a certain neighbour of mine
who possessed a castle some fifteen or twenty miles
distant from my own. To say the truth, he had not
given me any very grave cause of offence. He had
indeed flogged one of my vassals whom his people
had caught in the act of robbing a hen-roost, but as
barons usually stood by each other in such matters,
and I should undoubtedly have hanged the fellow in
similar case, there was not much to complain of. But
when one is looking for an excuse, one can always
make anything serve for one, and this did as well as
a better.

‘I pretended to be very indignant at the rough
usage which my worthy retainer had received; and
without any preliminary message of defiance, I
gathered together my men-at-arms, summoned my
vassals, and rode off at the head of over a hundred
and fifty of the greatest rascals you could have found
in this or any other country. They all hada keen
eye for plunder, no scruples of any kind to interfere
with their due execution of the work before them,
and no merit that I could honestly attribute to them
except fidelity to their feudal chief and unflinching
courage in the hour of battle. I had wanted Sir
vi.] THE RED BARON. 309

 

Smith to accompany me, but he had excused him-
self upon various grounds, the real reason of course
being that he wished to stay with Christina. In an
ill-omened hour I permitted this, and leaving a dozen
men, which in those days were ample to guard the
castle of a man so much dreaded as I was, I rode forth
with the rest upon the expedition which I had planned.

‘My worthy neighbour had somehow or other got
an inkling of my intention, so that Ihad not the plea-
sure of taking him by surprise, asI had fully intended
to have done. There was, and is, (though it has been
widened and improved since the days I speak of) a
certain pass some twelve miles from this castle,
through which you emerge from the mountains imme-
diately upon the only place for some miles where you
can conveniently cross the river. It was at that time
rather an easy pass to defend. The passage between
the sides of the mountain were narrow ; the rocks rose
perpendicularly on either side, and between the mouth
of the passage and the river a space of some thirty or
forty yards intervened, and on either side of the road
the ground, naturally rough and rugged, sloped up-
wards, and at the distance of a very few yards was
covered with thick brushwood and stunted trees such
as often grow on the side of our mountains.

‘Nothing could have been more easy than to
defend this pass. A few rocks and trunks of trees
placed at the river end would have checked the ad-
vance of troops. The cliffs above the passage might
have been held, whence rocks could have been rolled
down upon the invaders, and as the passage would
not allow more than half a dozen men to walk abreast,
310 WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND. [vI.

 

a comparatively small force might have held an army
at bay, whilst if the passage had once been forced,
a body of men well placed in the woods on either
side would have proved most awkward and incon-
venient to any attacking party.

‘ Through the pass I had to go, and as I neared it
I could not help thinking how easily what I have de-
scribed might have been done if the baron whom I
was about to attack had received warning of my
coming. I knew not that he dad such warning, but
still less did I know that he had not the wisdom or
knowledge of war to take the measures to which I
have alluded. Had he done so, I and my people —
could hardly have avoided a complete and most
humiliating defeat.

‘Unfortunately for him, however, my neighbour was
what you Englanders would call a thundering fool.
Instead of occupying the pass or the wood, he, having
some foolish scruple about staying in his own territory,
which the river divided from mine, remained on the
other side, and drew up his forces on the open plain
about a quarter of a mile from the ford, with a forest
behind him anda morass on one side. The conse-
quence was that I was enabled to pass the dangerous
point and to cross the river with my men without any
difficulty. Then the baron whom I was about to in-
vade thought it was time to move, and accordingly
advanced in front of his men, waving a white flag
in token of his wish to parley. It was never my
habit, however, to do anything of the kind when once
I had set out upon an expedition for a certain pur-
pose. Parleying is only “jawing” one against the
vI.] THE RED BARON. 311

 

other, to see who can get the best of it, and little good
comes of jawing, any day in the week. As for his
white flag, I didn’t care a rush about that, and if I
had thought there was any danger of my followers
being beaten by his, I should very likely have taken
advantage of his folly in bearing the white flag him-
self, let him come near and then captured him as a
hostage for the behaviour of his men. But I saw at
"a glance that we were as strong as they, and I was
impatient to be at them; so I paid no respect to his
flag or him, but gave the word to charge at once.

‘At it we went ding dong. The other chaps fought
like mad, for they were in their own country, and as
your English proverb says, “ Every cock fights best on
his own dunghill.” But my cocks were more of the
game breed than they were, and after about a quarter
of an hour, they gave way and fled in every direction.
My blood was up by this time, and I laid about me
right and left, cutting and slashing the beggars like any-
thing, until at last I encountered the baron himself.
He would fain have avoided the battle even then.

““ What have I done?” he cried. “Why are you
thus attacking me and my poor people?”

‘TI only laughed in his face, and rode him down
forthwith, for I was better mounted and a stronger
man withal. Then I pursued his men and knocked
as many of them on the head as I could, after which I
had him bound with his legs under his horse’s belly,
and rode forward in triumph to his castle, which, being
ill defended, soon yielded to my victorious army. Oh!
we had a rare time of it then! We sacked the old
place from top to bottom, and my fellows said they
312 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [vI.

 

never had better fun in their lives, for there was every-
thing a soldier could want, and the only drawback
was that the thing came to an end too soon. I will
net enter into all the details of the transaction, for
they might perhaps disgust you, and are not now
pleasant for me to look back upon.

‘We did the thing completely, at any rate, and as
the baron had few goods or people left to add to the
enjoyment of his after life, I thought it would bea
real kindness to put an end to him. So I first let
the rascal whom he had flogged inflict the same
punishment upon him, in front of his own castle,
which the fellow did with a will, and then, as I rather
disliked to see one of my own rank so degraded, I
hung both of them together from the battlements.

t was an awful “sell” for my knave, who thought I
had undertaken the whole business for his sake alone.
But I told him it was but fair that if both were
flogged, both should be hung, and I think the baron
saw the force of the argument if the other did not.
At all events, I turned them both off, and there was
no one to dispute the justice of my sentence.

‘But scarcely had the deed been done, when I heard
a voice behind me which took my thought and atten-
tion from the execution in which I had just delighted.
A very old woman stood behind me on the battle-
ments, close to a long narrow window in the castle
wall. She was clad entirely in black, and was dressed
like a nun, or some member of a religious order. How
she came there I know not, for I thought we had
routed out every man, woman, and child in the castle,
and none of us had seen her before. There she was,
vi] THE RED BARON. 313

 

however, sure enough, and to this hour I remember
the haughty, piercing, vengeful glare of her eyes
as they were fixed upon me. She raised her arm
and shook her aged fist at me with a vehemence
unnatural in one of her years, whilst she uttered ina
clear voice these unpleasant words :—
‘*T saw the Red Baron in th’ hour of his pride,
The castle he sacked, and the baron he slew.
The hour of my vengeance I patiently bide,
Tis near, when the Fates shall 27s Fortune undo.
Red Baron ! thy triumph shall soon turn to tears ;
With innocent blood have thine hands been imbued ;
Go home, whilst these words shall still ring in thine ears,
The Boar shall be worried, and by his own brood !”
‘You will agree with me that this was not a pro-
phecy calculated to make one feel comfortable, or put -
one in a good humour with the prophetess. As soon,
therefore, as ] had recovered from my astonishment at
being thus addressed, I cried out to my men-at-arms
to seize the old hag, and hurl her from the battle-
ments from which her master was already dangling.
‘They attempted to execute my orders forthwith,
but, with a smile of mingled scorn and malignity, she
stepped through the narrow window behind her, and
one of my people who rushed through after her, found
to his cost that it overlooked a steep staircase inside
at a height of some forty feet, down which he fell, and
paid the penalty of his rashness with his life. It was
evident, then, to us all, that the old woman had been
no mortal, and indeed I afterwards learned that there
was a legend in that family of an old abbess, a
daughter of the house in days gone by, who usually
made her appearance at the death of the head of the
314 _ WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND, [vI.

 

house. As, in this instance, she found him perishing
in a manner not likely to add much to the credit or
dignity of the family, I suppose she thought she might
as well say something nasty to the person who had
caused his end. At all events, whatever her reason
may have been, she gave vent to the speech which I
have told you, and I confess that it did not improve
my temper or spirits by any means.

‘J stayed in the castle long enough to ransack it
completely, which took me a couple of days, not so
much on account of the quantity of booty in the build-
ing itself, but because of the cattle which had to be
driven in, and moreover on account of my followers,
who always required a little time for enjoyment when
they had the luck to sack such a place. On the third
day, however, I told them that it was high time we
should be off, or our folks at home would certainly
think we had met with some misfortune.

‘I had not thought it necessary to send a messenger
with the news of our success, partly because I ex-
pected to be back so soon, and partly because I was
not over well pleased with the lack of interest which
the Englander had shown in my expedition. In fact,
he had seconded Christina’s efforts to induce me to
abandon my intention, pointing out to me that these
raids were things discreditable in themselves, and
likely some day to lead me into trouble, by drawing
down upon me the united vengeance of those who
would eventually become tired of being attacked one
at a time and destroyed in detail. So I thought it
would be quite time enough to tell Sir Smith in my
own words what had happened, and tell him that at
v1] THE RED BARON. 315

 

least this particular baron could never join with others
against me, as I had made a clear sweep of him and
his once for all.

‘We started leisurely about mid-day, and as the
cattle we drove before us somewhat delayed our march
it was well on in.the afternoon before we reached the
village near the.castle. No one came out to meet us ;
but this was not surprising, for the villagers rather
shunned than sought the presence of the Red Baron,
and I marvelled not that Isaw none of them. All was
quiet, too, as I rode up the old avenue at the head
of my men, and advanced up nearly to the castle gate.
Then, all at once, a piercing shrick rang through my
ears and filled my soul with terror. I knew—surely
I knew—that voice. It was my own, my darling
daughter whose lips had uttered the sound. But how
shall I describe the mingled anguish and horror which
it seemed to convey !

‘T pushed forward at once across the drawbridge,
which was down, and the castle gates were open.
All was silent, but a wail, softer but if possible more
heart-rending than the shriek I had first heard, smote
upon my hearing as I neared the door. It seemed
to come from the banqueting hall. The moments
which elapsed whilst I hastily traversed the corridor
were the most agonising in the whole of my earthly
existence. I knew not what to expect, and I feared
the worst. I rushed into the banqueting hall—what
a sight met mine eyes! The bodies of several men
lay here and there, who had evidently fallen after a
severe struggle—and at the end of the room, near
the head of the table, sat Christina—my own Chris-
316 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [vI.

 

tina—my lovely, my darling one— upon the floor,
supporting a man’s head and shoulders in her lap,
and wailing over him like a mother over the child
of her love. Frantically I rushed forward, and per-
ceived that my daughter held in her arms the lifeless
body of the Englander.

‘Rage and astonishment filled my heart. How had
he been slain? Who had been the savage combatants
the traces of whose recent fray were so plainly per-
ceptible around me? Had treason been at work, or
had any open enemy stormed the castle and
slaughtered my guest in my absence? Dead enough
he was in all conscience, with a gaping wound in his
breast enough to have let out half a dozen lives if he
had happened to have them. My chief thought was
for my daughter. I called to her. She answered
but by an incoherent moan.

‘I threw myself upon the ground by her side. I
spoke to her in my tenderest and softest voice, and
applied to her all the most affectionate epithets by
which I had been used to address her since the days
of her earliest childhood. All was in vain. She shrank
from my caresses with a shuddering glance of fear,
and remained deaf to all my entreaties that she would
speak and tell us whence this dreadful calamity had
befallen us. Alas! it was but too plain that the
catastrophe was greater than the loss of the Englander,
though for that I should have grieved sincerely. The
light of reason had for ever been extinguished in my
beloved daughter, and she would never more know
the father who so adored her, and whose sole hope
in life she had been.
vi] ._ THE RED BARON. 317

 

‘It was from the lips of a wounded retainer that I
at last gathered the truth; and sad enough it was
when known and realised. It seems that for some
time past some of my discontented vassals, leaguing
themselves with those of other lords whose masters I
had at different times dispossessed or slain, had taken
refuge in the great forests beyond the village. They
had, I suppose, had friends among the peasants, and
although they occasionally committed depredations,
yet for the most part they carried on their robbing
and marauding business so stealthily and craftily, that
I had no idea of the existence of such a formidable
band as they had become.

‘In an evil hour, my boy Rudolf formed the ac-
quaintance of some of these men. Stung by my
neglect, and beyond measure irritated at my prefer-
ence for Sir Smith, and the influence which the latter
had acquired over his sister, Rudolf began by absent-
ing himself, as if on hunting excursions, from_ the
castle, in. order to join these men in their lawless ex-
peditions. Ere long, as he was the only man of rank
among them, and a brawe lad withal, they elected him
as their captain. It was very shortly after this event
that the outbreak occurred of which I have told you,
and which resulted in my son’s flight from the castle.
He went direct to the haunts of his freebooting band,
and declaring the insult to which he had been sub-
jected on the Englander’s account, vowed vengeance
on the latter. His followers were only too ready to
encourage him in such a design, but were uncertain
how to carry it out. .

‘Rudolf, however, was a youth full of ability, and
318 WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND. [vI.

 

moreover determined to accomplish his purpose.
Alas! had I ever taken care that he should receive
instruction, had I ever attended to him myself, had
his sainted mother been spared, how different it would
all have been! Neglected, slighted, uneducated, un-
taught save by the early lessons of his dead mother
and the natural instincts of good which Christina
-imparted to all around her, the boy had no self-
control, nothing to draw him back from the evil pur-
pose which he meditated.

‘He drilled and disciplined his band as well as
he was able, and taught them to rely upon him and
obey his directions. They did so only too well. My
departure was watched, and the very next day
measures were taken to surprise the castle. Some-
thing postponed the attack until the night before my
return, so that had I dealt more mercifully with my
neighbour, or even spared their flocks and herds to
his people, the evil might yet have been averted. But
it was not to be! On that fatal evening, the full force
of the robber band, some fifty men, fell suddenly upon
the unsuspecting garrison. It was the supper hour,
and they were together in the banqueting hall when
the attack commenced.

‘Taken at such disadvantage, resistance against a
force four times their number was simply impossible.
I gathered from my retainer that Sir Smith, the lion-
hearted man that he was, performed prodigies of
valour, and that no less than five of the robbers fell
by his hand. They say, but I cannot think it true,
that it was Rudolf, the remorseless Rudolf himself,
who struck the fatal blow which at last felled him to
VL] THE RED BARON. 319

 

the earth. Be this as it may, however, it is certain
that Christina entered the hall as he fell, and that
the: horror of that awful moment was too much for
her pure and peaceful soul. Her father’s people
beaten down and her affianced spouse slain, and that
by a brother's hand, was a sight which would have
shaken nerves more rudely strung together than those
of my darling child. What she said or did I know
not. At any rate, Rudolf was so struck to the heart
with remorse at the result of his vengeance that he
fled the castle with his followers, and my daughter
had remained there with the Englander’s body until
the hour of our arrival.

‘You may imagine my feelings. Rage and despair
struggled for the mastery in my bosom. Anon I
cursed the wretched boy who had brought this misery
upon our house, anon I directed my imprecations
against the abominable old hag who had prophesied it.
At one moment I prayed and implored my darling
Christina to be to me what she had been before, at
another I called frantically upon Sir Smith to return.
Alas! that was what he could never do. They had
made sure work of him, and I wished at onetime that
I had been in his place.

‘The rest of my story will not take long to tell. It
soon became known that she whom everybody loved,
she who was the pride and delight of the castle,
worshipped by the rough soldiery, adored by her fond
father, that she was mad, hopelessly mad, and that
instead of the sweet smile and kindly word which had
ever been ready for each and all of us, nought could
320 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. {v1.

 

be heard from her sweet lips in the future but the
vacant laugh and wild shriek of insanity.

‘Then came the next blow. Had Rudolf returned,
I would have forgiven him all, even then: was he not
my last child? my last child with reason and sense
left to him? Despite my terrible grief, I could not
have avoided calling him to me, and sharing my
affliction with the last of my race. But it was not to
be. The unhappy boy, hearing of his sister's melan-
choly fate, lost all desire to live and abandoned him-
self to the pangs of remorse, Whilst still I mourned
the Englander and yet longed to receive once more
his slayer to my bosom, fate dealt me the cruel stroke
she had in store and robbed me of my only remaining
boy. Unable to endure his misery, he sought in
death the peace which life had denied him, and his
body was found in the deep lake near the forest, where
he had drowned himself in sheer despair. My cup
was now nearly full. I had but one aim and object
left, namely to alleviate, if possible, the condition of
my idolised Christina.

‘T tell you, stranger, that I passed moments,
hours, aye, days of agony which might have atoned,
I think, for greater crimes even than mine, if any
atonement for crimes could be made by mortals.
Comfort, or even relief to my child, was impossible.
Again and again would I visit her in the futile hope
that some returning gleam of reason might enable her
once more to speak to me—if but one singlesentence—
as of old. It was denied.

‘Nor was this the whole of my sorrow. I have said
that we were constant companions in the past days. I
vi] THE RED BARON. 321

 

have told you that she was my light and life, and that
she loved the father who so worshipped the very
ground she trod on. Fancy if you can the agony
which racked my soul when I found that my presence
had now become hateful to her. . She constantly
shuddered at my approach, and fled, moaning and
wailing, into the’ farthest corner of the room, where
she would crouch down as if to get as far as possible
away from me. What pangs of anguish did I endure
at such moments! It was but too evident that, for
some inscrutable reason or other, I was associated in
her mind with the misfortune which had befallen
her, and had so become positively hateful to my
darling child. Often and often have I, the rough
soldier, the cruel victor, the Red Baron, crouched
like a whipped hound outside my daughter's door,
listening for some sound from her lips which might
not be one of sorrow or of terror. My punishment
was heavy indeed, and I see you think so by the look
of pity which comes over your countenance.

‘Well, the end came at last. - As J had ceased to
lead them on expeditions in which plunder, if not
honour, was to be gained, my followers began to fall
away from me, and I knew that I was spoken of in
terms the reverse of respectful even in my own castle.
Now and then I rallied for a while, swore a few great
oaths, and flogged or hung a rascal or two who
seemed insubordinate. But this state of things could
not continue. The men began to desert, and within
three months from the events I have been narrating
I had not above half the number of retainers at com-
mand which I could have summoned to my banner

¥
322 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [vi.

before that awful day of retribution. Still, I cared
little for this. The hope and pleasure of my life had
gone by, and I was beginning to feel that the seed I
had sown was bringing up a crop which I had never
expected to reap. I dragged on my wretched exist-
ence in this manner, seldom quitting the castle and
neither hunting nor riding forth on raids as of old.
My only thought was of Christina, although, poor child,
she could never more be gonscious of my continued
care and love.

‘Well, as I have said, the end came at last.
Although she was tended with the greatest devotion by
some of her female domestics, it was impossible that
they could for ever guard her with the same vigi-
lance. One day, deceived by her apparent tranquillity,
they were less watchful than usual, and Christina
escaped from the rooms in which she had been
strictly confined ever since her madness had been
confirmed. The first thing she did was to go to the
banqueting-room where she had last seen her
affianced husband, and where had been enacted the
terrible tragedy which I have described. As the poor
Englander had been buried for some months, she
naturally didn’t find him there, so she sat down and
began to wail and sob upon the very spot where I had
found her with his head in her lap.

‘ After a while her attendants missed her and came
in anxious terror to tell me of her flight. In their
company I sought her, and after an ineffectual search
in the upper part of the house, descended with them
into the banqueting-room and there saw my darling
sitting as I have told you. The moment she saw me
VL] THE RED BARON. 323

 

enter; her worst paroxysms seemed toreturn. _ Perhaps
to her disordered brain there recurred the awful scene
which had taken place in that room, and the remem-
brance of my previous entry excited her diseased
imagination and drove her to fury. Anyhow, she
leaped from the ground and with a wild yell rushed
up the front staircase.

‘We followed as fast as we could, but she was
before us all the way, and when she reached the stair-
case on which were her rooms, instead of entering
them, she rushed to one of the large open embrasures
of the castle wall, turned round upon us for an instant,
waved her hand with a scornful, mocking laugh, and
springing through the embrasure was in another instant
dashed in pieces upon the pavement a hundred feet
below. My life virtually ended at that moment.

‘T can tell you no more of my own recollection ; but
as you will not be satisfied without knowing what
really became of me, I will relate what I now know
to have happened. I did not appear the next morn-
ing. They knocked at my door for some time, then
opened it, and found the room empty. They called
me all over the house without obtaining any answer,
and at last, on searching the rooms which my lost
Christina had occupied, they found me hanging from
an iron bar which ran across the top of one of the
windows, to which I had made fast an old shawl of
my darling’s and had contrived to arrange it in a slip
knot round my neck in such a manner as to need no
other executioner. This was the end of my life—if

not of my troubles. Of course I have had to haunt
ya
324 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [VI

the castle ever since; and I am sure you will agree
with me that I have quite as good reason for doing so
as the vast majority of ghosts have for frequenting
the various localities which they honour with their
presence.’

Here the little red man came to a stop, and
having again let his pipe out, rekindled it and tossed
off another glass of madeira whilst he awaited the
answer of his companion.

‘My dear sir,’ remarked the latter, ‘I do not
know how to thank you sufficiently for the remark-
ably interesting story with which you have just
favoured me.. Be assured that I sympathise most
truly and deeply with your sorrows, and feel sincerely
for all you have endured. Allow me at the same
time to observe, always with the greatest respect, that
after all, your present fate is not so bad as it might be,
or entirely devoid of those consolations which your
condition permits you to receive. I take it there are
few ghosts with such venison pasties and madeira at
command, and none, Iam sure, more capable of doing
justice to both than your worthy self.

‘Ah!’ replied the other with a sigh, ‘that is all
very true; but meat and wine do not confer happiness
upon ghosts any more than upon mortals. However,
as the hour is getting late, and IJ must be out of this
by cock-crow according to.all ghostly precedent, I
will take the liberty of wishing you a very good
night, and trust that your dreams will be light and
cheerful.’

‘I am sorry to part thus, Baron,’ replied the
traveller, ‘but you must of course fix your own hours
v1. ] THE RED BARON. - 325

 

 

in your own house; wherefore I will not seek to
detain you.’

Upon this the little red man got up, pushed back
his chair from the fireside, yawned, stretched his
arms, took one more glass of madeira (which hap-
pened to be the last in the bottle), put his pipe in his
pocket, and after nodding familiarly to his com-
panion, left the room and shut the door after him.
Being very tired and not a little sleepy, our traveller
did not sit up much longer. He found a certain
amount of covering upon the bed, and having thrown
his cloak over him by way of an extra blanket,
managed to compose himself comfortably to sleep, and
never had a better night’s rest in his life. The sun
was shining brightly into his room next morning
when he awoke, and for the first few moments
he could not remember where he was or how he came
there. Gradually, however, he recollected all the
events of the previous evening, and began to wonder
how he could have been on such good terms with the
ghost of an old baron, and to think how lucky he had
been to fall in with so hospitable a spirit. »

There was no doubt at all about the reality of the
thing. There were the two chairs as they were left the
night before; there were the glasses, and there were
the bottles, empty indeed, but still imparting, by their
pleasant fragrance, a knowledge of. what. they had
recently contained. There, too, better than all at that
moment, was a fragment of the mighty pasty, sufficient
for our traveller to break his fast upon, which he did
very shortly after he had completed his toilet ; then he
took a look into one or two of the other rooms, but
326 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND, [v1

 

without seeing: anything particular, and next de-
scended to the banqueting-hall, where he pictured to
himself the scene which the Red Baron had so vividly
described.

Then, having no further occasion to stay there,
and finding that his calling out to the Red Baron
produced no reply whatever, he came to two con-
clusions :—First, that ghosts would not come when
called, especially in broad daylight ; and secondly, that
as he could not possibly stay there until the evening,
he had better set: forth on his travels without further
delay. He did so accordingly, and if I had time to
tell you, and thought you would care to hear, I
could relate many other interesting adventures which
happened to the traveller. However, I will not yield
to the temptation to do so, but hasten on to the only
other event in his journeyings which bears upon the
present story.

It was some ten or a dozen years after the events
which I have been relating, when this self-same
traveller, grown, as you may perhaps think possible,
somewhat older, but still stalwart in frame and fond
of roaming abroad, came in his travels to the identical
village near which stood the castle of the Red Baron.
Things had changed, however, in that locality.
There were plenty of peasants to be seen at the
doors and windows of the cottages which formed the
principal street of the village, and, more than that,
there was a respectable inn at which accommodation
could be found for man and beast.

Our traveller stood even more in need of this than
in the olden days, for he came not alone upon this
vi] THE RED BARON. 327

occasion, A fair young girl was with him, upon whom
helooked with the eyes of reverential lovewhich showed
that she stood towards him in near and dear relation-
ship. She was his bride, whom he was taking over some
of the ground which he had travelled in his old bachelor
days, and as they drove up to the door of the little
inn, her bright looks and his manly, happy face and
bearing attracted the attention of the loiterers around
the door.

Right glad was the host to see such guests, and
to ascertain that they intended to pass the night
at his house. The best fare which the country
could produce was speedily placed before them,
and the host himself took care to wait upon such dis-
tinguished personages. Just as they were about to
commence their repast, the sound of a loud-toned
bell burst upon their ears, ringing, as it seemed, at
only a short distance from the place where they were
seated.

‘Ha!’ said the gentleman, after listening atten-
tively for a moment, ‘I have, as you know, my darl-
ing, a pretty good memory for places and distances,
and if anyone had asked me, I should have sworn
that the bell we have just heard came from some-
where very close to the old ruined castle about my
visit to which I have so often told you.’

‘Milord is right, here obsequiously interposed the
fat host. ‘The bell does come from the castle, but it
is not “ruined” now, though perhaps it deserved to
be called so some few years back. Has Milord then
been here before ?’

“Yes, certainly,’ replied the gentleman, ‘and |
328 WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND,. [v1.

 

thought I could not be far wrong as to the direction
from which that bell came. But how is it that the
castle is not ruined? Has it been sold, or burned and
rebuilt, or what ?’

‘Neither the one thing nor the other, Milord,’ re-
turned the host ;‘ but the late owner died some three
years ago, and the present Baron, who was his cousin,
had money of his own before, and has thoroughly
restored the old place.’

‘But how—what do you mean ?’ asked the gentle-
man. ‘Who was the late owner, and how comes the
present man to be a Baron?’

‘I do not know what Milord means, Lobseeved the
host somewhat stiffly. ‘The Barons of the family of
Bundelhausen have held the castle and estates for
long, long years—most likely from a time very soon
after the Flood, if not before.’

‘How can that be?’ enquired the traveller some-
what incredulously. ‘I thought the line had come to
an end.

‘Not so, returned the other. ‘But pray how long
is it since Milord was here?’

‘Some ten or twelve years ago,’ responded the guest.

‘Ah! that would be in the time of the last Baron.
Milord might well think the place was deserted and
the family come to an end. The late Baron was a
curious fish altogether. Heaven rest his soul! He
was what you call “a character,” anda very queer one
too. Although he had fine estates, good shooting, and
one of the best cellars of wine in the country, he lived
in two little rooms at one corner of the house, and let
the whole place go sadly out of repair,
vi] THE RED BARON. 329

 

‘His fancy was to dress himself always entirely in
red ; and if he could ever get anyone up to the old castle,
he would indulge himself with telling the most frightful
and improbable tales. His great delusion was that he
had lived many years ago and committed great crimes,
whereas a better little man, barring his eccentric habits,
never existed ; he gave away heaps to the poor and
no one had a word to say against him. Poor man!
he was his own enemy—he had but one fault, and
that was his love of wine, and I have been told that
this it was which carried him off at the last.’

As the host spoke, the lady could not avoid steal-
ing a sly glance at her companion, whose countenance
wore an expression so extremely comical that at last,
she burst into a fit of laughter which greatly discon-
certed the poor host. He begged ten thousand
pardons if he had said anything to offend the distin-
guished visitors—perhaps they were related to the
noble family of which he had been speaking—if so, he
trusted he had said nothing disrespectful of them :
such had been far, very far, from his intention, and he
hoped he might be forgiven. The lady and gentle-
man both assured him that he was entirely innocent
of having offended them in the slightest degree, and
that they were not fortunate enough to be able to
claim the most distant relationship with the family in
question. When they were alone, however, the lady
resumed her laughter, in which her husband was
forced to join in spite of himself.

‘There,’ said she with an air of triumph, ‘did I
not always tell you that your ghost story was like all
the rest of the same sort, and only required a little
330 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. (v1.

more information in order to be cleared up in the
most satisfactory manner? What do you say zow to
your Red Baron, Sir Smith, Christina and all the rest
of them? What have you to say for yourself now,
sir?’ And the lady laughed again.

‘My darling, replied her husband with a loving
look, ‘ghost or no ghost, nothing can make me dis-
believe in the venison pasty and old madeira, which
were to my mind much better than the story. But,
he added with a rueful look, shaking his head as he
spoke, ‘I might have known that such a kick could
never have been given by a ghostly foot !’
 

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THE TWO ETONIANS
vIL.] THE TWO ETONIANS. 331

 

VIL
THE TWO ETONIANS.

I.

A PLEASANT, mellow autumn day, with enough sun
to remind you of the summer which had just passed
by, and a freshness in the air which at the same time
warned you of the coming winter. A bracing air
withal, and a day which tempted everyone who had
any life or spirit in him to shut up his books, put.
away his papers, and rove abroad beneath the open
skies of Heaven. Such a day it was that beamed
upon the Eton world (never mindin what year) upon
the occasion of the School Steeple-chase. The Flat-
race had been run a week ago, the Hurdle-race was
over also, and this was the last ‘event’ in the way of
athletic sports which was to ‘come off’ that half.
Such an occasion, and such weather, was sure to bring
out the whole school—or all fellows who had any sport
in them—to see the fun ; and accordingly as soon as the
big college clock had sounded the hour of twelve, you
saw boys scampering out of school in every direction
with even greater haste than usual, and in a few
minutes more, having deposited their books at their
respective ‘Tutors’’ or ‘Dames’’ houses, trooping off
down the Slough road in numbers, bound to the par-
ticular place from which each had determined that the
332 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [vil

 

best part of the race was to be seen. Some would
like to see the start, and run behind the competitors
as far as they could. Some preferred to witness one
jump, some another, and the majority gathered in
‘the Field, where was the winning-post—for, although
the place of the start was varied from year to year
according to the state of the ground, or the fancy of
those to whom fell the duty of arranging the course,
the School Steeple-chase would not have been the real
thing at all unless the last jump had been the old
‘school jump’ over Chalvey, and the winning post in
‘the Field,’ hallowed by the memory of many a hard-
fought football match, and dear to the heart of every
Etonian.

Upon the present occasion the start was in the
Datchet direction, and after a two-mile circuit over
a line of country by no means light, the Slough road
had to be crossed, and the last half mile was straight
to the wirining-post. It was a trying course, and only
about fourteen boys had entered for it, young heroes
all of them, prepared to face the ordeal with un-
daunted courage. As the day of the race drew near,
however, several had dropped out of the list from one
reason or another: a sprained ankle had incapacitated
one, a hasty summons home had caused another’s
absence, and perhaps one or two more had judged their
chance too small to make it worth their while to run.

However that may have been, it is certain that |
upon the appointed day only nine came to the scratch,
between whom the hopes and fears of their brother
Etonians were divided. Of these there were five
fellows who may be said to have been decidedly the
VIL] THE TWO ETONIANS. 333

 

favourites. Oxley, who was ‘in the Boats, and high
up in the fifth form, wasa tall strongly-built boy, with
perhaps a trifle too much flesh on him, but with plenty
of muscle and, so fellows said, lots of pluck. Sundridge,
also a ‘Wet-bob’ (according to the Eton expression
to signify a boy who prefers boating to cricket); Penti-
man, a spare, thin boy, in the same remove with
Oxley, and reputed to be very fast ; Moore, a short
thick-set boy, who looked as if he could last; and
Ethelston, a ‘ Dry-bob,’ and one of the eleven. Each
of these five had many supporters: the ‘Aquatics’
were divided between Oxley and Sundridge; the
‘“Dry-bobs’ between Ethelston and Penliman ; whilst
Moore, who had not yet attained to the dignity of the
fifth form, had many partisans among the ‘ lower boys,’
who would have considered his victory their own. It
is unnecessary to speak of the other four starters, who
had probably entered rather for the credit of the
thing, than with any hope of winning, since the above-
named five were confessedly the best.

Great then was the excitement when the long-
expected day arrived and the relative merits of the
competitors were about to be proved. It may easily be
understood that the latter were themselves not among
the least excited: no light honour was it accounted to
be the winner of the School Steeple-chase, and if the
choice had been offered to any boy of either bearing
off this honour or being ‘sent up for good’ half a
dozen times, I have little doubt that, in the great
majority of cases, the choice would have been in
favour of the athletic as opposed to the scholastic
distinction. Be that as it may, however, the five
334 WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND. [vi1.

 

boys between whom the race lay were as anxious as
to the result as boys ought to be under such circum-
stances. Each had paid attention, for some weeks
past, to his condition of body so far as to eschew
heavy puddings, jam tarts, and such other edibles as
are generally supposed to be prejudicial to wind and
speed. An Eton boy’s ‘training’ is seldom of a very
rigorous character, but in this instance the runners
had not only exercised a wise abstinence from that
species of diet known to Etonians as ‘sock,’ but there
were rumours that several of them had gone so far as
to take an occasional run before breakfast, and it was
mysteriously whispered that wonderful trials of speed
had been secretly made with certain ‘cads’ of sporting
celebrity. However this may have been, upon the
appointed day the whole nine appeared at the scratch,
and a start was satisfactorily accomplished.

The first jump was a ditch of peculiarly uninviting
character; the banks were somewhat rotten, the
width was somewhat great, and the weeds which ap-
peared upon the surface of the water had a muddy
and unpleasant look about them which was anything
but tempting. The depth of water, however, was not
great, and it was a question whether a scramble
through the ditch was not likely to take less out of a
boy than a jump. So thought Oxley and Moore, who
both ran through instead of jumping over, whilst
Ethelston, Penliman, and Sundridge took the jump,
which they, with two other boys, succeeded in
clearing, whilst two were left behind floundering in
the mud. The next leap was overa small hedge and
ditch, which was taken by the whole seven, and then
vit] THE TWO ETONIANS. 335

came a grass field with a flight of hurdles in the
middle, which also were successfully managed.

The next field, however, was a piece of plough, at the
end of which was a stake-and-bind hedge, newly done
up and formidable to encounter. Across the plough
gallantly charged the runners; but the pace was too
good for the two unmentioned young gentlemen, who
gave up the contest when they found the other five
considerably ahead of them at the further end of the
field. Somehow or other, all the five got safely over
the hedge, and there was little to choose between
them when they entered the next field. Penliman was
the first, Moore the last of the five, for the next few
fields, the other three running and jumping closely
together.

So matters continued until they were within two
or three fields of the Slough road, in which were
congregated numbers of their brother Etonians,
anxiously looking for their coming. On they came,
charging a flight of hurdles up to which the ground
rather rose and thus rendered the jump somewhat
harder than would otherwise have been the case.
Penliman was still first, but, miscalculating his dis-
tance and perhaps going too fast at his jump, he
unluckily caught his foot in the top of the hurdle and
came down, rather a nasty fall, upon the other side.
He was fortunately not hurt, but at that criticalmoment
the fall and the shock were fatal to his chances of
success. The others were but afew yards behind him,
and before he could get into his speed again, he was
too far behind to have hopes that he could recover
his lost ground.
336 WHISPERS FROM FATRYLAND. [vit

Sundridge, Oxley, and Ethelston were almost
abreast as they jumped the hurdles, and Moore only
a dozen yards behind. Loud were the shouts of their
respective friends as they neared the Slough road,
which they crossed in the same order, and came into
the straight running without change of position. Now
was the moment for each boy to do his utmost; the
eyes of Eton were upon him; the ‘ Field’ was full of
spectators ; around the winning-post were crowds of
boys, and not a few were gathered on the bank near
the ‘school jump, in eager anticipation of that which
would probably decide the fate of the race.

A roar of conflicting cries arose as the five boys were
seen entering the last field before the final jump. Oxley
is the first into that field, bursting through the small
hedge and ditch without rising to the jump, Ethelston
and Sundridge, side by side, are scarce a couple of
yards behind him, and there goes up a mighty shout
from the lower boys as little Moore comes with a will
through the gap, gathers himself together like a good-
plucked chap as he is, and reduces the distance
between him and the others almost at every. step.
All four are nearly together when they are halfway
across the field—who is it that falls behind? It is
Sundridge—he has done his best, but the pace has
been too good for him, and he is fairly ‘ pumped out.’

Now come the cries from the opposite bank
louder and faster. ‘Oxley!’ ‘Ethelston!’ ‘Moore !’
shout a chorus of youthful voices, as the three
gallantly struggle on towards the far-famed Chalvey.
Twenty yards from the jump it becomes apparent that
the race will be between two. Ethelston and Moore

 
VII] THE TWO ETONIANS. — 337

 

leave Oxley labouring behind and charge the ditch
almost abreast several yards before him. A roar
from the ‘ Dry-bobs ’ and lower boys, and correspond-
ing shouts of disgust from the ‘ Aquatics,’ accompany
the sight of this extinction of Oxley’s hopes. Poor
fellow ! he was the biggest and the strongest of the five,
but although he would have trained with good-will for
a boat-race, he had probably held a land-race too
cheap to secure it by equal care and abstinence. from
unwholesome diet. So his natural strength, though it
served him well, failed him when tested beside boys
who had bestowed more care upon making the most
of themselves for this important occasion. i

Neither of the two, however, was in a condition to
enable him to clear the ‘school jump’ at the end ofa
fast-run steeple-chase. Both gallantly jumped,and both
were struggling in the ditch at the same instant, but so
close to the opposite bank that it was not long before
each scrambled up into ‘the Field’ and headed for the
winning-post. At this instant the excitement of the
bystanders was tremendous, and their shouts positively
deafening. As the two boys struggled manfully on,
each straining every nerve, a crowd of friends and
well-wishers ran by the side of each, encouraging their
favourite by word and gesture, and perfectly wild with
the intoxication of the moment.

Side by side kept the boys until within a very few
yards of the winning-post. Then each made his great
and final effort, and the result was no longer doubtful.
Moore’s pluck and strength had carried him well
through the day ; but Ethelston had the turn of speed,
and in these last few yards he succeeded in leaving his

Z
338 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [vu

 

opponent behind, and passing the winning-post a full
yard and a half before him, amid the enthusiastic
cheering of the ‘ Dry-bobs’ and the warm congratula-
tions of his numerous friends. There were few boys
more popular than Ethelston, and no one whose
success would have given more general satisfaction.
Moreover it had been a fast as well as a closely con-
tested race, and everybody was pleased with the sport
which had been afforded. The crowd in the Field
slowly dispersed and straggled back to college.

For the rest of the day, at the dinner table, ‘ after
four’ and ‘after six,’ the events of the morning formed
an occasional topic of conversation; but the school
settled down to its work again as usual, and the steeple-
chase of that year ranked among the events of the
past. The two boys who had been competitors at
the last were thrown but little together during the
rest of their Eton career. Ethelston being so high
in the school, and Moore a ‘lower boy,’ it was only
accidentally that they came in contact ; and gradually
the memory of the race and its results died away, over-
shadowed and eclipsed in the mind of the Eton world
by other similar events and the varied excitement
of Eton life. Had anyone prophesied that the two
. heroes of that day would again be brought together
in another and still more desperate race, he would
probably have been laughed at asa dreamer of dreams,
and certainly so if he had described in imagination
that which really occurred. Nevertheless the events
of real life are oftentimes stranger than imagination
itself, and so it would have proved in this case.
vit] THE TWO ETONIANS. 339

II.

The roll of the cannon was deafening the ears alike
of the besieged and the besiegers of Sebastopol. The
incessant roar, louder than the heaviest thunder-storm,
had continued for days together, and the mighty
armaments of England and France still darkly brooded
over the Russian fortress, whilst anxious hearts at
home beat fast and sad for warrior sons and brothers
in that distant camp, whose place in the old home
circle would, alas! be filled no more.

It was autumn again, but not such an autumn day
as that which I have described as the day of the Eton
Steeple-chase. A dark, heavy morning, with thick
mists rolling up the side of the hill, and covering as
with a shroud the camp of the allies. There had been
heavy rain for days past, and the whole place was ina
state of damp discomfort, unfavourable alike to health
and to military operations. But the man who feels the
grip of a foeman upon his neck has neither time nor
inclination to wait for favourable conditions before try-
ing to shake himself free. And Russia, with the enemy
overhanging her great fortress and threatening the life
of her empire with a death-stroke, had good reason
for a supreme effort to rid herself once for all of the
oppression.

On that night, then, trusting that vigilance might
have relaxed in the allied camp, and the continuous bad
weather might have lessened the discipline and dulled
the martial ardour of her foes, Russia massed her
forces and collected her artillery for one great attempt,
the success of which would have been the most glori-

Z2
340 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. [vit

 

ous of warlike deeds inher history. Never were greater
precautions taken to ensure that success, and perhaps
never was such a surprise effected—a surprise of an
invading army by the invaded.

There is no need for me to dwell upon the account
of the struggle of that terrible day. In the dim mist
of that November morning dense masses of Russian
soldiery were poured upon the English position—a
hand-to-hand battle of the most determined and fierce
character followed, and victory appeared to waver
between the contending parties. Unable to discern
friend from foe, our men fought at terrible disadvan-
tage ;—the most dreadful confusion prevailed, and
nothing but the undaunted resolution of the old island
race could have made head against a brave and excited
enemy so greatly outnumbering our troops.

How it fared with them has been already told in
more eloquent words than mine. How positions were
taken and re-taken, how the blood of England’s best
and bravest was poured out like water upon that fatal
hill-side ; how a terrible revenge was taken, and thou-
sands of Russian bodies strewed the ground, and how
the gallant Zouaves came up in time to scatter and drive
back the masses of the foe into their fortress, baffled
and defeated in their great effort—all this tale of thrill-
ing interest is known by heart to the reader of English
history. My task is but to tell of one of the incidents
of that eventful day which forms the sequel to the
Eton episode with which my tale commenced. ©

It happened during the heat and confusion of the
battle that a Russian column advanced upon an
English battery in the midst of a dense canopy of
vi] THE TWO ETONIANS. 341

smoke and fog. The gunners, uncertain whether they
were approached by friend or foe, hesitated to fire.
Their hesitation was fatal to themselves. . The enemy
chargéd up to the guns, cut down the men, and were
about to, capture the position. At. this moment,
English soldiers from two different sides of the battery
caught sight of the affair, and rushed eagerly to the
rescue. An officer led each of the parties, and here it
was that the two steeple-chase competitors met for
the first time since their old Eton days, for the officers
were Moore and Ethelston. The latter had been with
the army from the first, but Moore had only landed
a day or two before, and neither knew that the other
was so near.

Each rushed at the head of his men against the
Russians, who were actually in possession of the
battery, and almost together they met the foe. How
different this race from the last in which the two
had striven! No friendly faces, no joyous looks, no
encouraging shouts of boyish companions, but dark,
lowering visages of deadly foes, teeth closely clenched,
and eyes full of threatening rage and hatred en-
countered the two officers as, outstripping their men,
they hurled themselves against the enemy.

Not far behind, however, were their men, and a
furious struggle at once commenced, for the artillery-
men and their supports rallied to the charge again at
the sight of reinforcements, and boldly pressed upon |
their assailants. It was like one of the combats of
olden time ; no breathing space for loading was allowed,
but hand to hand the soldiers fought, and personal
strength and skill, the value of which has been so
342 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. (vii.

much lessened by the scientific engines of destruction
which modern warfare employs, were brought pro-
minently into play.

Whilst Ethelston was in the act of defending him-
self against the onslaught of three Russian soldiers, a
fourth had raised his weapon and was about to strike
a deadly blow upon his head with the butt-end, when
the sword of a British officer, anticipating the action,
was plunged into his heart. It was Moore, who im-
mediately turned further to assist his comrade, and
at that instant a glance of half-recognition passed
between them. There was no time for more; the
battle around them was too fierce and hot, the Russians
still vastly outnumbering their opponents, and main-
taining a desperate struggle for the possession of the
battery.

Only a few paces from the spot where the two
Etonians were engaged, a British officer of superior
rank, overpowered and wounded, was with difficulty
guarding himself from some dozen of the enemy who
had singled him out as the object of their attack.
Bareheaded, his grey locks streaming in the wind, and
already beaten down upon one knee, it was evident
that the old man could not long sustain the unequal
combat. Almost at the same moment Ethelston and
Moore caught sight of the scene, and rushed simul-
taneously forward, bursting through the ‘intervening
Russians with a desperate vehemence that overcame
all resistance.

Ethelston, destined to be first in this as in the
former less dangerous race, rushed headlong into
the fray as recklessly as he would have dashed into
vIt.] THE TWO ETONIANS. 343

 

a ‘bully’ at Eton, striking with hearty goodwill at
the savage foe. Too late, however, to save, he came
but to avenge the old officer, in whose body met the
bayonets of several foes even as Ethelston struck down
the first within his reach. The rest turned furiously
upon the new comer, and he and Moore found them-
selves instantly surrounded and exposed to a deadly
onslaught on each side. Determined to sell their
lives dearly, they stood back to back until a mound
of dead and dying around them testified to their
prowess and courage.

But what could two men do against the crowd
which pressed upon them? Their revolvers did their
work well, and right heavily did their swords fall upon
the servants of the Czar. But the tide of battle
rolled away from the battery, and at the spot where
most bodies of the dead were found, where the battle
had raged most fiercely, and the ground was trampled
and torn by the feet of hundreds of men struggling
for dear life, there lay the two Eton warriors side by
side.

Probably they had recognised each other, and had
had time to speak and to recall the past, for their
hands were clasped together as if in a parting grasp
of kindness and brotherhood. So it chanced that one
of the burying parties was led by an old Etonian who
had known the two, and he it was who found them as
TI have told. He it was, too, who witnessed the last
sad rites, when the bodies of the two school-com-
panions were laid in their resting place on ‘ Cathcart’s
Hill’ Together they died the death of the brave, and
together they rest, but their memory lives fresh in
344 WHISPERS FROM FAIRYLAND. (vil.

 

tender hearts at home, and love, that death cannot
abate nor time diminish, still cherishes the recollection
of these twe of Eton’s sons.

Alas! how many of her children had the old
College to mourn throughout that terrible war! How
many desolate homes, how many widowed hearts,
still testify to the miserable results of insatiable ambi-
tion and baffled diplomacy! how many ancient trees
bewail the rending of precious branches in the warlike
tempest. But, amid all those who fought and fell during
that eventful time, none fought more bravely, none
gave their lives more freely, than the sons of Eton,
and amongst the bold and fearless spirits whose deeds
have added another wreath to the deathless glories of
their country, none more bold, none more fearless, and
none more regretted passed away than the two of
whom my tale has told.

In a beautiful country home in one of England’s
midland counties, a venerable man mourns the hope of
his house cut off, and the prop of his declining years
removed when Ethelston fell ; other sons he has, and
other ties have wound themselves around him during
his busy life, but his heart is buried in that tomb on
Cathcart’s Hill, and the first-born child will never be
forgotten. And onthe banks of Father Thames, so
loved by Eton hearts, a quiet, homely, ivy-clad cottage
contains a widowed mother who still weeps for -her
only son, and the lapse of nearly twenty years has not
diminished the sisterly love with which the memory
of Moore is ever cherished by the two companions
of his early childhood.

So, alas! must it ever be : bright and joyous spirits,
vil.] THE TWO ETONIANS. 345

 

kind hearts, and loving natures beam upon us only
to pass away and leave us in darkness the deeper and
sadder for the transient light. But Faith that cheers
and Hope that lives for ever, comfort us in our heaviest
sorrow, and the clouds which overhang us and darken
our path-way whilst yet we journey through life, shall
break away at last before the brightness of the never-
setting sun in the land towards which we travel, when
to cherish the memory of the loved ones who have gone
before shall no longer be needful, for again they shall
be with us, and the sorrowful partings we have suffered
in the passage of Time shall be forgotten for ever in
the glorious re-union of Eternity.
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