Hea
Fairy book
Rebecca Sophia Clarke, Sophie May





9-ZBO











THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
A8TOR, LENOX AND
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS



CRISTOBAL. Page 32.


THE HEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
883571A
ASTOS, LENOX AMB
T1LDEN FOUNDATIONS
R 1987 L
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 18U5, by
LEE & 8HETABD,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.





CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 9
CRISTOBAL 19
WILD ROBIN 35
THE VESPER STAR 53
THE WATER-KELPIE 59
THE LOST SYLPHID 74
THE CASTLE OF GEMS 100
THE ELF OF LIGHT 117
THE PRINCESS HILDA 137
GOLDILOCKS 100


FAIRY BOOK.
o^o
INTRODUCTION.
While Prudy was in Indiana visiting the
Cliffords, and in the midst of her trials with
mosquitoes, she said one day, —•
"I wouldn't cry, Aunt 'Ria, only my
heart's breaking. The very next person
that ever dies, I wish they'd ask God to
please stop sending these awful skeeters. I
can't bear 'em'any longer, now, certainly."
There was a look of utter despair on
Prudy's disfigured face. Bitter tears were
trickling from the two white puff-balls which
had been her eyes; her forehead and cheeks
were of a flaming pink, broken into little


10 FAIRY BOOK. I
snow-drifts full of stings: she looked as if
she had just been rescued from an angry bee-
hive. Altogether, her appearance was ex-
ceedingly droll; yet Grace would not allow
herself to smile at her afflicted little cousin.
"Strange," said she, " what makes our mos-
quitoes so impolite to strangers! It's a
downright shame, isn't it, ma, to have little,
Prudy so imposed upon? If I could only
amuse her, and make her forget it!"
"Oh, mamma," Grace broke forth again sud-
denly, "I have an idea, a very brilliant idea!
Please listen, and pay particular attention;
for I shall speak in a figure, as Robin says.
There's a certain small individual who is not
to understand."
"I wouldn't risk that style of talking," said
Mrs. Clifford, smiling; "or, if you do, your
figures of speech must be very obscure, re-
member." •


12 FAIRY BOOK.
"You mean little Harvey? Oh, yes."
"Pray do be careful, ma! Then Mr. Sher-
wood said to his — I mean, the hat said to
the bonnet, that there were some wonderful
— ahem — legends, about genii and sprites
and — and so forth; not printed, but written,
which the boy liked to hear when he was
'overgetting' the measles. A certain lady,
not three inches from your chair, ma, was the
one who wrote them; and now " —
Prudy had turned about, and the only rem-
nants of her face which lo.oked at all natural
— that is, the irises and pupils of her swollen
eyes — were shining with curiosity.
"There, now, what is it, Gracie? what is
it you don't want me to hear?"
Grace laughed. "Oh, nothing much, dear:
never mind."
"You oughtn't to say ' Never mind,' " pur-
sued Prudy: "my mother tells me always to
mind."


INTRODUCTION. 13
"I only mean it isn't any matter, Prudy."
"Oh! do you? Then don't you care for
my skeeter-bites? You always say,' Never
mind!' I didn't know it wasn't any matter."
"Now, ma," Grace went on," I want to ask
you where are those I-don't-know-what-to-
call-'ems? And may I copy them, Cassy and
I, into a book, for a certain afflicted rel-
ative?"
"Yes, yes, on gold-edged paper!" cried
Prudy, springing up from the sofa; "oh, do,
do; I'll love you dearly if you will! Fairy
stories are just as nice! What little Harvey
Sherwood likes, /like, and I've had the mea-
sles; but I shouldn't think his father and
mother'd wear their hat and bonnet to the
dinner-table!"
"Deary me !" laughed Grace; "how hap-
pened that little thing to mistrust what I
meant?"


INTRODUCTION. 17
You couldn't get along without me two days.
Look here! what story has a moral for you,
miss? It's the ' Water-kelpie.' You are like
the man that married Moneta: you're always
wanting money."
"But it's for the soldiers, Horace," said
Grace, with a smile of forbearance toward
her brother. "I'm willing to give all my
pocket-money; and I mean the other girls
shall. If we're stingy to our country these
days, we ought to be shot!'Princess Hilda's'
the best story in the book. I wish Isa Har-
rington could read it! She wouldn't make
any more mischief between Cassy and me!"
"I like 'The Lost Sylphid' the best," said
Prudy; "but was she a great butterfly, do
you s'pose? The stories are all just as nice;
just like book stories. I shouldn't think any-
body made 'em up. Aunt 'Kia can write as


18 FAIRY BOOK.
good as the big girls to the grammar-school.
I promised not to believe a single word; and
I sha'n't. I'm glad she called it my Fairy
Book."


CRISTOBAL. 19
CRISTOBAL.
A CHRISTMAS LEGEND.
Long ago, in fair Burgundy, lived a lad
named Cristobal. His large dark eyes lay
under the fringe of his lids, full of shadows;
eyes as lustrous as purple amethysts, and,
alas! as sightless.
He had not always been blind, as perhaps
a wild and passionate lad, named Jasper,
might have told you. On a certain Christ-
mas Eve, a merry boy was little Cristobal,
as he pattered along to church, trying with
his wooden shoes to keep time to the dancing
bells. In his hand he carried a Christmas
candle of various colors. Never, he thought,


CRISTOBAL. 21
thems. There were prayers to the coming
Messiah, and the sprinkling of holy water;
and, at last, the midnight mass was ended.
Then, in tumult and great haste, the peo-
ple went home for merry-makings. Cris-
tobal, eager to see what the Yule-log might
have in store for him, rushed out of the
church with careless speed, stumbling over a
boy who stood in his way,— the haughty, in-
solent Jasper. Jasper's beautiful Christmas-
candle was cracked in twenty pieces by his
fall.
"I'll teach you better manners, young
peasant!" cried he, rushing upon Cristobal
in a frenzy, and dealing fierce blows without
mercy or reason.
It was then that Cristobal's eyes went out
like falling stars. Their lustre and beauty
remained; but they were empty caskets,
their vision gone.


24 FAIRY BOOK.
talk again of the Yule-log, and to wonder
what gifts "Noel would bring to place under
each end of it; for these little folks, who have
no stocking - saint like our Santa Claus, be-
lieve in another quite as good, who rains
down sugar-plums in the night.
Everywhere there was a joyful bustle.
Housewives were making ready their choi-
cest dishes for the great Christmas - supper;
fathers were slyly peeping into shop-win-
dows, and children hoarding their sous and
centimes for bonbons and comfits.
Everybody was merry but Cristobal; or
so thought the lad. He had no money to
spend, and little but ' pain for his holiday-
cheer. A patch here and there in his worn
clothes was the best present his thrifty moth-
er was able to make; always excepting the
little variegated taper, which few were too
poor to buy.


CRISTOBAL. 25
t
Christmas Eve came. Family friends
dropped in. The Yule-log was set on the fire
with shouts and singing. "Oh that I could
see these kind faces!" moaned Cristobal.
"No doubt, Jasper's chestnuts are popping
merrily; and his shoes will be full of pres-
ents. And here am I! My head aches, and
my eye-balls burn."
He stole out of the room, and, throwing
himself on a wicker bench, mused over his
troubles in solitude. One might have sup-
posed him sleeping; for how should one im-
agine that his beautiful eyes were of no
manner of use, except when they were
closed? When Cristobal said, " Let me see,"
he dropped his eye-lids; and what he saw
then, no artist can paint.
On this night, a beautiful child appeared
before him, as like the picture of the Little
Jesus as if it had stepped out of its frame on


26 FAIRY BOOK.
the church-wall. Even the crimson and blue
tints of the old painting were faithfully pre-
served; and every fold of the soft drapery
was the very same.
"I saw you, Cristobal, when you came be-
fore me with your colored candle, one year
ago."
"I knew it, I knew it!" cried Cristobal,
clasping his hands in awe. "I saw your
eyes follow me; and I never once turned but
you were looking. They told me it was only
a picture; but I said for that very reason
your eyes were sorrowful,— you longed to
be alive."
The child replied by a slight motion of the
head; and the aureola trembled like sunlight
on the water. The longer Cristobal gazed,
the more courage he gathered. "Lovely
vision," said he, " if vision you may be, — I
have said to myself, I would gladly walk to


28 FAIRY BOOK.
I grieve for you," said the Child with' ex-
quisite tenderness; "yet, dear boy, for all
that, you might he ready for Christmas: but
is there not also a pain throbbing and burn-
ing in your heart?"
"Oh, if you mean that, I am tossed up and
down by vexation: I am full of hatred
against that terrible Jasper. It was all about
a miserable Christmas-candle he carried. I
broke it by pushing him down. Tell me,
was he right to fly at me like a wild beast?
Ought he not to suffer even as I have suf-
fered? Is it just, is it right, for the great
man's son to put out a peasant boy's' eyes,
and be happy again?"
"Misguided Jasper!" said the Child sol-
emnly; "let him answer for his own sin:
judge not, little brother."
Cristobal hid his face in his hands, and
wept for shame. .


30 FAIRY BOOK.
bered music, a voice fell on his ear, " For if
ye forgive men their trespasses, your heav»
enly Father will also forgive you your tres-
passes."
Cristobal arose, and, although still blind,
walked in light. "It is the aureola which
has stolen into my heart," thought Cristobal.
"The pain and hate are all gone. Now I am
ready for Christmas. I wish I could help
poor Jasper, who has such a weight of guilt
to carry!"
Next day, " golden-sided" Burgundy saw
no happier boy than Cristobal. He walked
in the procession that night, carrying a can-
dle whose light he could not see; but what
did it signify, since there was light in his
soul?"
Hark! In the midst of the Christmas-
chimes breaks the jangling of fire-bells. The
count's house is on fire! The sparks pour


CRISTOBAL. 31
out thicker and faster; tongues of flame leap
to the sky; the bells clang hoarsely; the
Christmas procession is broken 'into wild dis-
order; the wheels of the engine roll through
the streets, unheard in the din.
Cristobal rushed eagerly toward the flames,
but was pulled away by the people.
""We cannot drown the fire !" they cried:
"the building must fall! Are the inmates
all safe?"
"All, thank Heaven!" cried the count.
"No: Jasper! See, he waves his hand
from the third story! Save him! save my
boy!"
Jasper had set fire to a curtain with his fa-
tal Christmas - candle. Now he raved and
shouted in vain: no one would venture up
the ladder.
"0 Little Jesus," whispered Cristobal,
"give light to my eyes, even as unto my
soul I Let me save Jasper!"


32 FAIRY BOOK.
At once the iron band fell from Cristobal's
vision. He saw, and, at the same moment,
felt a supernatural strength. He tore away
from the restraining arms of the people; he
rushed up the ladder, shouting, "In the
name of the Little Jesus!" He reached the
window, heedless of his scorched arms.
"Jasper!" he cried, seizing the half-conscious
boy, "be not afraid: I have the strength to
carry you."
And down the ladder he bore him, step by
step, through the crackling flames.
Jasper was revived; and the fainting Cris-
tobal was borne through the streets in the
arms of the populace.
"Wonder of wonders !" they all shouted.
"It was the Little Jesus," gasped Cristo-
bal: "he opened my eyes; he guided me
up the ladder, and down again!"
"Hallelujah!" was now the cry. "On the


WILD ROBIN. 35
WILD ROBIN.
A SCOTTISH FAIRY TALE.
In the green valley of the Yarrow, near
the castle-keep of Norham, dwelt an honest,
sonsy little family, whose only grief was an
unhappy son, named Robin.
Janet, with jimp form, bonnie eyes, and
cherry cheeks, was the best of daughters:
the boys, Sandie and Davie, were swift-footed,
brave, kind, and obedient; but Robin, the
youngest, had a stormy temper, and, when
his will was crossed, he became as reckless
as a reeling hurricane. Once, in a passion,
he drove two of his father's "kye," or cattle,
down a steep hill to their death. He seemed
not to care for home or kindred, and often
pierced the tender heart of his mother with


36 FAIRY BOOK.
sharp words. When she came at night, and
"happed " the bed-clothes carefully about his
form, and then stooped to kiss his nut-brown
cheeks, he turned away with a frown, mutter-
ing, " Mither, let me be."
It was a sad case with Wild Robin, who
seemed to have neither love nor conscience.
"My heart is sair," sighed his mother,
"wi' greeting over sich a son."
"He hates our auld cottage and our muckle
wark," said the poor father. "Ah, weel! I
could a'maist wish the fairies had him for a
season, to teach him better manners."
This the gudeman said heedlessly, little
knowing there was any danger of Robin's
being carried away to Elf-land. Whether the
fairies were at that instant listening under
the eaves, will never be known; but it
chanced, one day, that Wild Robin was sent
across the moors to fetch the fcye.


WILD ROBIN. 37
"I'll rin away," thought the boy: "'tis
hard indeed if ilka day a great lad like me
must mind the kye. I'll gae aff; and they'll
think me dead."
So he gaed, and he gaed, over round swell-
ing hills, over old battle-fields, past the roof-
less ruins of houses whose walls were
crowned with tall climbing grasses, till he
came to a crystal sheet of water, called St.
Mary's Loch. Here he paused to take
breath. The sky was dull and lowering; but
at his feet were yellow flowers, which shone,
on that gray day, like freaks of sunshine.
He threw himself wearily upon the grass,
not heeding that he had chosen his couch with-
in a little mossy circle known as a "fairy's
ring." Wild Robin knew that the country
people would say the fays had pressed that
green circle with their light feet. He had
heard all the Scottish lore of brownies, elves,


38 FAIRY BOOK.
will-o'-the-wisps, and the strange water-kel-
pies, who shriek with eldritch laughter. He
had been told that the queen of the fairies
had coveted him from his birth, and would
have stolen him away, only that, just as she
was about to seize him from the cradle, he
had sneezed; and from that instant the fairy-
spell was over, and she had no more control
of him.
Yet, in spite of all these stories, the boy
was not afraid; and if he had been informed
that any of the uncanny people were, even
now, haunting his footsteps, he would not
have believed it.
"I see," said Wild Robin, "the sun is
drawing his night-cap over his eyes, and
dropping asleep. I believe I'll e'en take a
nap mysel', and see what comes o' it."
In two minutes he had forgotten St. Mary's
Loch, the hills, the moors, the yellow flowers.


WILD ROBIN. 39
He heard, or fancied he heard, his sister
Janet calling him home.
"And what have ye for supper? " he mut-
tered between his teeth.
"Parritch and milk," answered the lassie
gently.
"Parritch and milk! Whist! say nae mair!
Lang, lang may ye wait for Wild Robin:
he'll not gae back for oatmeal parritch!"
Next a sad voice fell on his ear.
"Mither's; and she mourns me dead!"
thought he; but it was only the far-off vil-
lage-bell, which sounded like the echo of
music he had heard lang syne, but might
never hear again.
"D'ye think I'm not alive?" tolled the
bell. "I sit all day in my little wooden tem-
ple, brooding over the sins of the parish."
"A brazen lie !" cried Robin.
"Nay, the truth, as I'm a living soul!


40 FAIRY BOOK.
Wae worth ye, Robin Telfer: ye think yer-
sel' hardly used. Say, have your brithers
softer beds than yours? Is your ain father
served with larger potatoes or creamier but-
termilk? Whose mither sae kind as yours,
ungrateful chiel? Gae to Elf-land, Wild Rob-
in; and dool and wae follow ye! dool and
wae follow ye!"
The round yellow sun had» dropped behind
the hills; the evening breezes began to blow;
and- now could be heard the faint trampling
of small hoofs, and the tinkling of tiny bridle-
bells: the fairies were trooping over the
ground. First of all rode the queen.
"Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,
Her mantle of the velvet fine;
At ilka tress of her horse's mane
Hung fifty silver bells and nine."
But Wild Robin's closed eyes saw nothing;


WILD ROBIN. 41
his sleep-sealed ears heard nothing. The
queen of faries dismounted, stole up to him,
and laid her soft fingers on his cheeks.
"Here is a little man after my ain heart,"
said she: "I like his knitted brow, and the
downward curve of his lips. Knights, lift
him gently, set him on a red-roan steed, and
waft him away to Fairy-land."
"Wild Robin was lifted as gently as a brown
leaf borne by the wind; he rode as softly as
if the red-roan steed had been saddled with
satin, and shod with velvet. It even may be
that the faint tinkling of the bridle-bells
lulled him into a deeper slumber; for when
he awoke it was morning in Fairy-land.
Robin sprang from his mossy couch, aad
stared about him. Where was he? He
rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Dream-
ing, no doubt; but what meant all these nim-
ble little beings bustling hither and thither


WILD KOBIN. 43
"stir yersel', and be at work; for naebody
idles in Elf-land."
Bewildered Robin ventured a look at the
little queen. By daylight she seemed some-
what sleepy and tired; and was withal so
tiny, that he might almost have taken her be-
tween his thumb and finger, and twirled her
above his head; yet she poised herself be-
fore him on a mullein-stalk, and looked every
inch a queen. Robin found her gaze op-
pressive; for her eyes were hard and cold
and gray, as if they had been little orbs of
granite.
"Get ye to work, Wild Robin!"
"What to do?" meekly asked the boy,
hungrily glancing at a few kernels of. rye
which had rolled out of one of the brownie's
mortars.
"Are ye hungry, my laddie?" touch a
grain of rye if ye dare! Shell these dry


44 FAIRY BOOK.
bains; and if so be ye're starving, eat as
many as ye can boil in an acorn-cup."
With these words she gave the boy a with«
ered bean-pod, and, summoning a meek little
brownie, bade him see that the lad did not
over-fill the acorn-cup, and that he did not so
much as peck at a grain of rye. Then,
glancing sternly at her unhappy prisoner, she
withdrew, sweeping after her the long train
of her green robe.
The dull days crept by, and still there
seemed no hope that Wild Robin would ever
escape from his beautiful but detested prison.
He had no wings, poor laddie; and he could
neither become invisible nor draw himself
through a keyhole bodily.
It is true, he had mortal companions:
many chubby babies; many bright-eyed
boys and girls, whose distracted parents
were still seeking them, far and wide, upon


WILD ROBIN. 45
the earth. It would almost seem that the
wonders of Fairy-land might make the little
prisoners happy. There were countless treas-
ures to be had for the taking, and the very
dust in the little streets was precious with
specks of gold: but the poor children shiv-
ered for the want of a mother's love; they
all pined for the dear home-people. If a cer-
tain task seemed to them particularly irk-
some, the heartless queen was sure to find it
out, and oblige them to perform it, day after
day. If they disliked any article of food,
that, and no other, were they forced to eat,
or starve.
Wild Robin, loathing his withered beans
and unsalted broths, longed intensely for one
little breath of fragrant steam from the tooth-
some parritch on his father's table, one glance
at a roasted potato. He was homesick for
the gentle sister he had neglected, the


46 PAIRY BOOK.
rough brothers whose cheeks he had pelted
black and blue; and yearned for the very
chinks in the walls, the very thatch on the
home-roof.
Gladly would he have given every fairy-
flower, at the root of which clung a lump of
gold ore, if he might have had his own cov-
erlet "happed " about him once more by the
gentle hands he had despised.
"Mither," he whispered in his dreams,
"my shoon are worn, and my feet bleed; but
I'll soon creep hame, if I can. Keep the
parritch warm for me."
Robin was as strong as a mountain-goat;
and his strength was put to the task of thresh-
ing rye, grinding oats and corn, or drawing
water from a brook.
Every night, troops of gay fairies and plod-
ding brownies stole off on a visit to the up-
per world, leaving Robin and his companions


48 FAIRY BOOK.
brotherly affection is a sentiment which
never yet penetrated the heart of a brownie.
The dull little sprite would gladly have
helped the poor lad to his freedom, but told
him that only on one night of the year was
there the least hope, and that was on Hal-
low-e'en, when the whole nation of fairies
ride in procession through the streets of
earth.
So Robin was instructed to spin a dream,
which the kind brownie would hum in
Janet's ear while she slept. By this means
the lassie would not only learn that her
brother was in the power of the elves, but
would also learn how to release him.
Accordingly, the night before Hallow-
e'en, the bonnie Janet dreamed that the long-
lost Robin was living in Elf-land, and that he
was to pass through the streets with a caval-
cade of fairies. But, alas! how should even


WILD EOBIN. 49
a sister know him in the dim starlight, among
the passing troops of elfish and mortal ri-
ders? The dream assured her that she
might let the first company go by, and the
second; but Robin would be one of the
third: —
"First let pass the black, Janet,
And syne let pass the brown;
But grip ye to the milk-white steed,
And pull the rider down.
For I ride on the milk-white steed,
And aye nearest the town:
Because I was a christened lad
They gave me that renown.
My right hand will be gloved, Janet;
My left hand will be bare;
And these the tokens I give thee:
No doubt I will be there.


WILD ROBIN. 51
Robin, the angry voice of the fairy queen
was heard: —
'Up then spake the queen of fairies,
Out of a bush of rye,
* You've taken away the bonniest lad
In all my companie.
* Had I but had the wit, yestreen,
That I have learned to-day,
I'd pinned the sister to her bed
E're he'd been won away!'"
However, it was too late now. Wild Robin
was safe, and the elves had lost their power
over him forever. His forgiving parents
and his leal-hearted brothers welcomed him
home with more than the old love.
So grateful and happy was the poor laddie,
that he nevermore grumbled at his oat-meal
parritch, or minded his kye with a scowling
brow.


54 FAIRY BOOK.
Tims, with one accord, they made excuses
to the pale Moon, who is their guardian,—
all but the sweet Vesper Star: she was si-
lent; and when a white cloud floated by, she
was glad of an excuse to hide her face.
"Let the North Star shiver, and the Seven
Sisters dance, and all the golden stars hold a
revel," thought she; "as for me, I am sad."
For you must know that the Vesper Star
has a task to perform, and is not allowed to
sleep. She keeps vigil over the Earth, by
night; and never ceases her watch till the
world is up in the morning. For the sick
and sad, who cannot sleep, she feels an un-
utterable pity, so that her heart is always
throbbing with sorrow.
The Moon looked at the Vesper Star, and
said, "Dream on, sweet sister; for you, the 9
noblest of all, have told me no falsehood."
This the Moon said because she knew that


THE VESPER STAR. 55
none of the stars had given a true reason for
twinkling so gayly that night. The truth was,
they were filled with envy, and were trying
to be as brilliant as possible, to compete with
a flaming Comet which had just appeared in
the sky.
It is not for man to know how long and
how peacefully the gentle stars had travelled
together, doing the work which Grod has ap-
pointed, without a murmur. But now that
'this distinguished stranger had arrived, the
whole firmament was in dismay. How
proudly he strode the heavens! how his
blaze illumined the sky! The Stars whis- ■
pered one to another, and cast angry eyes on
the shining wonder.
"Make way for me," he said, sweeping
after him a glorious train of light.
"Not I," muttered the fiery Mars.
"Not I," quoth the majestic Jupiter; "I
do not move an inch."


THE WATER-KELPIE. 59
THE WATER-KELPIE.
Once there lived under the earth a race
of fairies called gnomes. They were strange
little beings, with dull eyes and harsh voices;
but they did no harm, and lived in peace.
They never saw the sun; but they had
lamps much brighter than our gaslight, which
burned night and day, year after year.
They had music; but it was the tinkling
of silver bells and golden harps, — not half
so sweet as the singing of birds and the bab-
bling of brooks.
Flowers they had none, but plenty of
gems,—"the stars of earth." There were
green trees in the kingdom: but the leaves


60 FAIBY BOOK.
were hard emeralds; and the fruit, apples of
gold or cherries of ruby; and these precious
gems the gnomes ground to powder, and
swallowed with much satisfaction.
They heaped up piles of gold and dia-
monds as high as your head; and never was
there a gnome so poor as to build a house of
any thing a whit coarser than jasper or onyx.
You would have believed yourself dreaming,
if you could have walked through the streets
of their cities. They were paved with rosy
almandine and snowy alabaster; and the pal-
aces glittered in the gay lamplight like a
million stars.
These gnomes led, for the most part,
rather dull lives. Like their cousins, the
water-sprites, or undines, they were roguish
and shrewd, but had no higher views of life
than our katydids and crickets. Indeed,
they hardly cared for any thing but frisking


THE WATER-KELPIE. 61
about, eating and sleeping. But, after all,
what can be expected of creatures without
souls? One sees, now and seen, stupid hu-
man beings, whose eyes have no thoughts in
them, and whose souls seem to be sound
asleep. Such lumps of dulness might almost
as well be gnomes, and slip into the earth
and have done with it.
These underground folk had a great hor-
ror of our world. They knew all about it;
for one of them had peeped out and taken a
bird's-eye view. He went up very bravely,
but hurried back with such strange accounts,
that his friends considered him a little insane.
"Listen!" said the gnome, whose name was
Clod. "The earth has a soft carpet, of a new
kind of emerald; overhead is a blue roof,
made of turquoise; but I am told that there
is a crack in it, and sometimes water comes
pouring down in torrents. But the worst


62 FAIRY BOOK.
plague of all is a great glaring eyeball of
fire, which mortals call the sun."
When Clod told his stories of the earth, he
always ended by saying, —
"Believe me, it is bad luck to have the
sun shine on you. It nearly put my eyes
out; and I have had the headache ever
since."
Now, there was a young girl, named Mon-
eta, who listened very eagerly to the old
gnome's stories of the earth, and thought she
would like to see it for herself. She was a
kind little maiden, as playful as a kitten; and
her friends were not willing she should go.
But Moneta had somewhere heard that
fairies who marry mortals receive the gift
of a human soul: so, in spite of all objec-
tions, she was resolved to take the journey;
for she had in her dark mind some vague as-
pirations after a higher state of being.


THE WATER -KELPIE 63
Then the gnome-family declared, that, if
she once went away, they would never allow
her to return; for they highly disapproved
of running backward and forward between
the two worlds, gossiping.
"Have you no love of country," cried
they, "that you would willingly cast your
lot among silly creatures who look down
upon your race?"
The old gnome, who had travelled, took the
romantic maiden one side, and said, —
"My dear Moneta, since you will go, I
must tell you a secret; for you remember I
have seen the world, and know all about it.
Mortals are a higher race than ourselves, it is
true; but that is only because they live atop
o' the earth, while we are under their feet.
They make a great parade about their little
tieking jewel they call Conscience; but, after
all, they will any of them sell it for one of


THE WATER-KELPIE. 65
When she had reached the top, the earth
closed again, and she was left seated upon a
Tick; and the light of the sun was so daz-
zling, that she hid her face in her hands.
Thus she sat for a long time, not knowing
whither to go, till a young man chanced to
come that way, who said, "What do you
here?"
She raised her face at his words, and could
not speak, so great was her surprise at the
beauty of the strange youth. He, for his
part, could not help smiling; for she was as
yellow as an orange; and an uglier little
creature he had never beheld: but he said
in a kind voice, —
"Come with me to my mother's house, and
you shall be refreshed with cake and wine."
She arose to follow him; and, as she
walked, a bright shower of gold-dust sprin-
kled the earth at every step.


66 PAIBY BOOK.
The young man held out his hands eagerly
to catch the shining spray, thinking he would
like such a rarely-gifted damsel for his wife;
and, in truth, he smiled so sweetly, and
dropped such winning words, that in time he
won her heart and she became his bride.
"And, when she cam' into the kirk,
She shimmered like the sun;
The belt that was about her waist
Was a' with pearles bedone."
So great was her love for him, that she
forgot her lost home under the earth; and
every day, when she bade her husband
"good-morning," she placed in his hand a
precious stone; and he kissed her, calling
her his "dear Moneta," his "heart's jewel."
But at last the diamonds, sapphires, and ru-
bies were all gone; and she was also losing
the power of shedding gold-dust. Then her


THE WATER-KELPIE. 67
husband frowned on her, and no longer called
her his "heart's jewel," or his "dear Mo-
neta."
At length she presented him with a little
daughter as lovely as a water-sprite, with
hair like threads of gold. Now the father
watched the babe with a greedy eye; for its
mother had wept precious tears of molten
gold before she received the gift of human
grief, and he hoped her child would do
the same; but, when he found it was only a
common mortal, he shut his heart against the
babe. Moneta was no longer yellow and
ugly, but very beautiful; with deep eyes, out
of which looked a sweet soul: yet she had
lost her fairy gifts, and her husband had
ceased to fove her. The good woman
mourned in secret; and would have wished
to die, only her precious child comforted her
heart.


THE WATER-KELPIE. 69
I had no wife and child, all this gold would
be mine!" and he- knitted his brows with a
frown.
Then Moneta looked in his face, and
said, —
"Dear Ivan, I have loved you truly; but
you no longer care for Moneta. I will go
away with the little child, and all our gold
shall be yours. Farewell!"
Then she embraced him with falling tears.
His heart was stirred within him; and he
would have followed her, only he knew not
which way she had gone.
Soon the water-kelpie came to him in the
form of a horse; and ran before him, neigh-
ing fiercely, and breathing fire from his
mouth. This is the way kelpies take to an-
nounce the fact that some one has gone un-
der the water.
So the man followed the kelpie. His heart



THE WATER-KELPIE. Page 70.


THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR, LENOX AND
TILDEN FOUNDa'h-n:
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THE WATER-KELPIE. \ 71
"Why sit you here, sighing like the north
wind?" said the kelpie.
"I have loved gold better than my best
friends," replied Ivan; "and now my best
friends are taken away from me, and the gold
is left; but I love it no longer."
"Ah, ah!" growled the kelpie; "I have
heard of such men as you: nothing is dear
till it is missed. You should have thought
of that before. If your lost ones were to
return, you would treat them as badly as-
ever, no doubt."
"No no," groaned Ivan; "I would love
them better than all the wealth in the world!
I would love them better than my own life!
Ah, the sting it is to think of my own ingrati-
tude!"
"Hold!" said the kelpie: "grumble to
yourself if you like, but don't vex my ears
with your complaints. Suppose I were to


72 FAIRY BOOK.
bring back Moneta and the child, — would
you give me your chests of gold?"
"That I will," cried the man, " right joy-
fully."
"Not so fast: will you give me your castle
as well?"
"Ah, yes, castle and gold; take them, and
welcome."
"Not so fast: Moneta and her child are
worth more than these. Will you give me
the castle and gold, and ten years of your
life?"
"With all my heart."
"Then," said the kelpie "go home, and
to-morrow you shall see Moneta and her
child."
When the morrow came, the husband and
wife wept for joy at meeting once more; and
Ivan said, —
"Can you forgive me, dearest Moneta?"


THE LOST SYLPHID. 77
caught in a nixie's net spread upon the
grass.
But, in time, her wings dwindled and disap-
peared; and then the lord, who was now her
father, could not remember that she had ever
been other than an earthly child.
"You fancy you were once a sylphid,"
said he; "but there are no sylphids, my
sweet one, and there is no Summer-land."
The child became as dear to the lord and
lady as their very heart's blood; and they
forgot her foreign birth, and almost believed,
as all the world did, that she was their own
little daughter. But the child did not for-
get. She longed for the true home she had
left; but whither should she go to seek
it?
"Dear papa," said she, one day, "I beg
you will not say again there are no sylphids;
for I remember so well how I spread my


82 FAIRY BOOK.
right cave, and walk in it far enough' I
should come to the Summer-land."
So she set out, one day, in wild haste, hut
only lost herself in a deep cavern; and, when
she found daylight again, she was all alone
upon the face of the earth. Her father and
mother were nowhere to be seen. She
shouted their names, and ran to and fro seek-
ing them till her strength was all spent. It
was growing dark; and Little One could only
creep under a shelter, and weep herself
asleep.
Next morning it was no better, but far
worse. Her wretched parents had gone
home, believing her drowned in the sea.
Poor Little One was now all alone in the
world, and her heart ached with the cold.
Kind friends gave her food and shelter, and
her clothing was warm as warm could be;
still her heart ached with the cold. People


THE LOST SYLPHID. 83
praised her beauty so much that she dared
not look up to let them see how lovely she
was; but she had lost both her father and
mother, and her heart ached and ached. She
thought winter was coming on; and the
world was growing so chilly, that now she
must certainly set out for the Summer-land.
Then she said, —
"If I am a sylphid, perhaps my home is
over the hills, and far away. Yes: I think it
must be in the country where the music
goes."
For she thought, when she heard music,
that it seemed to hover 'and float over the
earth, and lose itself in the sky; so she be-
gan to set her face toward the country where
the music goes. But, though she gazed till
her eyes ached, she never saw her long-lost
home, nor so much as a glimpse of one of its
spires.


S4 FAIRT BOOK.
One night, after gazing and weeping till
she could scarcely see. and had no tears left,
the bright being who visited her dreams
came and whispered,—
"If there be a land so fair
O'er the mountain shining,
Ton will never enter there
By looking up and pining."
"Dear me! then what shall I do?" said
Little One, clasping her hands. "I am tired
of the dropping rain, and the bleak winds;
I have lost my father and mother; I long to
go home to the Summer-land."
"There are hills to climb, and streams to
cross," said the fairy.
"But I have stout shoes," laughed Little
One.
"There are thorns and briers all along the
road."


THE LOST SYLPHID. 85
n But I can bear to be pricked."
"Then I will guide you," said the fairy.
"How can that be?" cried the child.
"You come to me in dreams; but by day-
light I cannot see so much as the tips of
your wings."
"Listen, and you will hear my voice," re-
plied the fairy. "Set out toward the East,
at dawn, to-morrow, and I will be with you."
'When Little One awoke, the sun was rising,
and she said,—
"Oh that golden gate! The sun has left
it open: do you see it, beautiful lady?"
"I see it," whispered the fairy: "I am
close beside you."
"Then," said Little One, fastening her
dress, and putting on all the jewels she could
possibly carry, " I think I will set out at
once; for, if I make all speed, I may reach
the Summer-land before that golden gate is
closed."


86 FAIRY BOOK.
She pressed on, as the fairy directed, up a
steep hill, her eyes fixed on the glowing east-
ern sky. But, as the sun strode up higher,
the morning clouds melted away.
"Where is my golden gate?" cried the
child.
"Weeping so soon?" whispered the fairy.
"Do not scold me, dear Whisper," moaned
the child; "you know I have lost my kind
father and mother; and the thorns prick me;
and then this is such a lonely road; there is
nobody to be seen."
The truth was, there were children gather-
ing strawberries on the hill, and old women
digging herbs; but Little One did not see
them, for she was all the while watching the
sky. But she was soon obliged to pause, and
take breath.
"Look about you," said the Whisper, "you
may see some one as unhappy as yourself."


THE LOST SYLPHID. 87
The child looked, and saw a little girl driv-
ing a goat; while large tears trickled down
her cheeks, and moistened her tattered dress.
For a moment, Little One's heart ceased ach-
ing with its own troubles.
"What is your name, little girl?" said she:
"and why do you weep?"
"My name is Poor Dorel," replied the
child; "my father and mother are long since
dead; and I have nothing to eat but goat's
milk and strawberries:" and, as she spoke,
the large tears started afresh.
"Poor Dorel! you are the first one I ever
saw who had as much trouble as I. I, too,
have lost a father and mother."
"Were they a. king and queen?" asked
Dorel, wiping her eyes, and gazing at Little
One's beautiful dress and glittering orna-
ments.
"They loved me dearly," replied Little


88 FAIRY BOOK.
One sadly; "yet I never heard that they
were king and queen. Come with me, dar-
ling Dorel!" I never before saw any one who
was hungry. Come with me! I live in a
country where there is food enough for
everybody."
"Where is that?" said Dorel, eagerly.
"I do not quite knoW, little girl; but it is
not in the bosom of the earth, and it is not in
the sun-bright deep: so I suppose it is over
the hills, and far away."
"Now I know who you are," said Dorel.
"You are the lost sylpMd; and people say
you have travelled all over the world. But,
if you do not know the way home, pray how
can you tell which road to take?"
"Oh! I have a guide, — a beautiful fairy,
called Whisper: she shows me every step of
the way. I wish you would go too, little
Dorel!"


90 FAIRY BOOK.
prick her, but her heart was also full of a
new love, which made the whole world look
beautiful.
"You see the way is growing easier," said
the Whisper.
"Pour out thy love like the rush of a river,
Wasting its waters forever and ever."
"So I will," said Little One. "Is there
any one else to love?"
By and by she met an old woman, bent
nearly double, and picking up dry sticks with
trembling hands.
"Poor- woman!" said Little One: "I am
going to love you."
"Dear me !" said the old crone, dropping
her sticks, and looking up with surprise in
every wrinkle: "you don't mean me? Why,
my heart is all dried up."
"Then you need to be loved all the more,"
cried Little One heartily.


THE LOST SYLPHID. 91
The poor woman laughed; but, at the same
time, brushed a tear from her eye with the
corner of her apron.
"I thought," said Little One, " I was the
only unhappy one in the world: it seemed
a pity my heart should ache so much; but,
oh, I would rather have it ache than be dried
up!"
"I suppose you never were beaten," said
the old woman; "you were never pelted
with Avhizzing stones?"
"Indeed I never, never was!" replied Lit-
tle One, greatly shocked by the question.
"By your costly dress, I know you never
were so poor as to be always longing for
food. Let me tell you, my good child, when
one is beaten and scolded, and feels cold all
winter, and hungry all summer, it is no won-
der one's heart dries up!"
Little One threw her arms about the old


92 FAIRY BOOK.
woman's neck. "Let me help you pick
sticks!" said she; "you are too old for hard
work; your hands tremble too much."
Swiftly gathering up a load of fagots, she
put them together in a bundle.
"Now, how many jewels shall I give her?"
thought the child. "She must never want
for food again."
"How many?" echoed the Whisper.
"Give as the morning that flows out of heaven:
Give as the free air and sunshine are given."
"Then she shall have half," said Little
One in great glee. "Here, poor woman,
take these sapphires and rubies and dia-
monds, and never be hungry again!"
"Heavenly child!" said the stranger, lay-
ing her wasted hand on the sylphid's bright
head, and blessing her, "it is little except
thanks that an old creature like me can give;


THE LOST SYLPHID. 93
yet may be you will not scorn this pair of lit-
tle shoes: they are strong, and, when you
have to step on the sharp mountain-rocks,
they will serve you well."
Little One's delicate slippers were already
much worn, and she gladly exchanged them
for the goat-skin shoes; but, strange to re-
late, no sooner had she done so than she
found herself flitting over rocks and rough
places with perfect ease, and at such speed,
that, when she looked back, in a moment, she
had already left the old woman far behind,
and out of sight. They were magical shoes;
but, no matter how fast they skimmed over
the ground, Dorel, out of pure love, con-
tinued to go before, talking and laughing and
smoothing the way.
One by one Little One sold her jewels to
buy bread, which she shared with all the
needy she chanced to meet. After many



THK LOST SYLPHID. Page 96.


96 FAIBY BOOK.
mist; but to the feet as strong as adamant.
She hushed her fears, and walked over it
with a stout heart.
Now, she was on the borders of the Sum-
mer-land. Here were the turrets and spires,
the soft white clouds, the green fields, and
sunny streams. Instantly her long-lost wings
appeared again; and she spread them like a
happy bird, and flew home. Oh, it was
worth years of longing and pain! She was
held in tender embraces, and kissed lovingly
by well-remembered friends. To her great
surprise and delight, her father and mother
were both thtere they had arrived at the
Summer-land while seeking their Little One.
"Now I know," said her father, "that my
daughter was not dreaming when she longed
for her remembered home."
Little One looked at her soiled dress; but
the stains had disappeared; and, most won-


THE LOST SYLPHID. 99
Now I know no more than I have told of
this story of the Lost Sylphid. I tell the
tale as 'twas told to me; and I wish, with all
my heart, it were true.
883571A


THE CASTLE OP GEMS. 103
Queen Fontana smiled: when she smiled
it was as if a soft cloud had slid away from
the moon, revealing a beautiful light.
"Say pearls and diamonds," said Victor in
her ear.
"I don't know," whispered Blanche: " they
are not the best things."
"No," said the queen kindly: "pearls and
diamonds are not the best things."
Then Blanche knew that her whisper had
been overheard, and she hid her face in
her hands for shame. But the queen
only smiled down on her, and, without speak-
ing, dropped into the ground a little seed.
Eight at the feet of Blanche, it fell; and, in a
moment, two green leaves shot upward, and
between them a spotless lily, which hung its
head with modest grace.
Victor gazed at the perfect flower in won-
der, and, before he knew it, said aloud, "Ah,
how like Blanche!"


104 PAIRY BOOK.
The queen herself broke it from the stem,
and gave it to the maiden, saying, —
"Take it! it is my choicest gift. Till it
fades (which will never be), love will be
thine; and, in time to come, it will have
power to open the strongest locks, and swing
back the heaviest doors.
'Gates of brass cannot withstand
One touch of this magic wand.'"
Blanche looked up to thank the queen;
but no words came, — only tears.
"I see a wish in thine eyes" said Fon-
tana.
"It is for Victor," faltered Blanche, at
last: "he wishes to be rich and great."
The queen looked grave.
"Shall I make him one of the great men
of the earth, little Blanche? Then he may


106 FAIBY BOOK.
So saying, she moved on to the boat, float-
ing over the ground as softly as a creeping
mist.
When Blanche awoke next morning, her
first thought was, "Happy are the maidens
who have sweet dreams!" for she thought
she had only been wandering in a midsum-
mer's night's dream; so, when she saw her lily
in the broken pitcher where she had placed
it, great was her delight. But a change had
come over it during the night. It was no
longer a common lily, — its petals were large
pearls, and the green leaves were now green
emeralds. This strange thing had happened
to the flower, that it might never fade.
After this, people looked at Blanche, and
said, "How is it? she grows fairer every
day!" and every one loved her; for the hu-
man heart has no choice but to love what is
"good and gentle.


THE CASTLE OP GEMS. 107
As for Victor, he at first put on his specta-
cles with a scornful smile: but, when he had
worn them a moment, he found them very
wonderful things. When he looked through
them, he could see people's thoughts written
out on their faces; he could easily decipher
the fine writing which you see' traced on
green leaves; and found there were long
stories written on pebbles in little black and
gray dots.
When he wore the spectacles, he looked so.
wise, that Blanche hardly dared speak to him.
She saw that one day he was to become a
great man.
At last Victor said he must leave his home,
and sail across the seas. Tears filled the
eyes of Blanche; but the youth whis-
pered, —
"I am going away to find a home for you
and me: so adieu, dearest Blanche 1"


108 FAIRY BOOK.
Now Victor thought the ship in which he
sailed moved very slowly; for he longed to
reach the land which he could see through
his magic spectacles: it was a beautiful king-
dom, rich with mines of gold and silver.
When the ship touched shore, the streets
were lined with people who walked to and
fro with sad faces. The king's daughter, a
beautiful young maiden, was very ill; and it
Avas feared she must die.
Victor asked one of the people if there
was no hope.
It so happened that this man was the
greatest physician in the kingdom and he
answered, —
"Alas, there is no hope!"
Then Victor went to a distant forest where
he knew a healing spring was to be found.
Very few remembered it was there; and
those who had seen it did not know of its
power to heal disease.


THE CASTLE OP GEMS. 109
Victor filled a crystal goblet with the pre-
cious water, and carried it to the palace.
The old king shook his head sadly, but con-
sented to let the attendants moisten the
parched lips of the princess with the water,
as it could do no harm. Far from doing
barm, it wrought a great good; and, in time,
the royal maiden was restored to health.
Then, for gratitude, the king would have
given his daughter to Victor for a wife; but
Victor remembered Blanche, and knew that
no other maiden must be bride of his.
Not long after this, the king was lost over-
board at sea during a storm. Now the peo-
ple must have a new ruler. They deter-
mined to choose a wise and brave man; and,
young as he was, no man could be found
braver and wiser than Victor: so the people
elected him for their king. Thus Pontana's
gift of the eyes of Wisdom had made him
truly " one of the great men of earth."


110 FAIRY BOOK.
In her humble home, Blanche dreamed
every night of Victor, and hoped he would
grow good, if he did not become great; and
Victor remembered Blanche, and knew that
her love was his dearest blessing.
"This old palace," thought he "will never
do for my beautiful bride."
So he called together his people, and told
them he must have a castle of gems. Some
of the walls were to be of rubies, some of
emeralds, some of pearls. There was to be
any amount of beaten gold for doors and
pillars; and the ceilings were to be of milk-
white opals, with a rosy light which comes
and goes.
All was done as he desired; and, when the
castle of gems was finished, it would need a
pen of jasponyx dipped in rainbows to de-
scribe it.
Victor thought he would not have a guard


THE CASTLE OP GEMS. Ill
of soldiers for his castle, but would lock the
four golden gates with a magic key, so that
no one could enter unless the gates should
swing back of their own accord.
When the castle of gems was just com-
pleted, and not a soul was in it, Victor locked
the gates with a magic key, and then dropped
the key into the ocean.
"Now," thought he, " I have done a wise
thing. None but the good and true can enter
my castle of gems. The gates will not swing
open for men with base thoughts or proud
hearts!"
Then he hid himself under the shadow of
a tree, and watched the people trying to
enter. But they were proud men, and so the
gates would not open.
King Victor laughed, and said to him-
self,—
"I have done a wise thing with my magic


112 FAIRY BOOK.
key. How safe I shall be in my castle of
gems!"
So he stepped out of his hiding-place, and
said to the people, —
"None but the good and true can get in."
Then he tried to go in himself; but the
gates would not move.
The king bowed his head in shame, and
walked back to his old palace.
"Alas!" said he to himself, "wise and
great as I am, I thought I could go in.' I see
it must be because I am filled with pride.
Let me hide my face; for what would
Blanche say if she knew, that, because my
heart is proud, I am shut out of my own cas-
tle? I am not worthy that she should love
me; but I hope I shall learn of her to be
humble and good."
The next day he sailed for the home of his
childhood. When Blanche saw him, she


114 FAIRY BOOK.
rays fell with dazzling splendor upon the cas-
tle of gems. When Blanche saw the silent,
closed castle and its golden gates, she re-
membered the words of Queen Fontana, who
had said that her lily should have power to
"open the strongest locks, and swing back
the heaviest doors."
Like one walking in a dream, she led Vic-
tor toward the resplendent castle. She
touched, with her lily, the lock which fas-
tened one of the gates.
"Gates of gold could not withstand
One touch of that magic wand."
In an instant, the hinges trembled; and the
massive door swung open so far, that forty
people could walk in side by side. Then it
slowly closed, and locked itself without
noise.
One of the people who passed in was the


116 FAIRY BOOK.
Until Queen Fontana shall call for the
magic spectacles and the lily of pearl, it is
believed that Victor and Blanche will live in
the castle of gems, though the time should be
a hundred years.


118 FAIRY BOOK.
thenish training, he had some noble traits,
which a Christian lad might imitate.
He lived with his widowed mother at the
edge of a forest. The snow piled itself in
drifts, and the wind howled through the
trees, and crept in at the windows; for the
cottage was old, and a blind hurricane might
almost have mistaken it for a heap of brush-
wood. But Thule was quite as happy as if
the hut had been a palace. He loved the
winter-beauty of his mother's face, and the
silvery hair half hidden under her black
cap. All the fire they burned was made
of the dry sticks he gathered in the forest,
and more than half the money they used
was earned by his small hands.
In one of the ice-months of the year, when
the weather was sharper than a serpent's
tooth, Thule came home from a hard day's
work; and, the chillier he grew, the more he


THE ELF OP LIGHT. 119
whistled to keep tip a brave heart. Looking
at the horizon before him, he saw the cold
glare which we call Northern Lights, but
which he knew to be the flickering of hel-
mets and shields and spears.
"The warlike maidens are out to-night,"
thought the boy: "they are going to the bat-
tle-fields to decide who is worthy to be slain.
How I love to see the sky lighted up with
the flash of their armor! Odin, grant I may
one day be a hero, and walk over the bridge
of a rainbow!" 4
Then Thule went to his whistling again;
but, just as he struck into the forest where
the deep shadows lay, he heard a faint moan,
which sounded like a human voice, or might
have been a sudden gust of wind in a hollow
tree.
"Perchance it is some poor creature even
colder than I," thought the boy: "I hope not
a troll t"


120 FAIRY BOOK.
Hurrying to the spot whence the pound
came, he found an ugly, long-nosed dwarf ly-
ing on the ground, nearly perishing with
cold. It was growing late, and the boy him-
self was benumbed; but he went briskly to
work, chafing the hands and 'face of the
stranger, even taking off his own blue jacket
to wrap it about the dwarfs neck.
"Poor old soul, you shall not die of cold!"
said he; then, helping him to rise, he added
cheerily, "We will go to my mother's cot-
tage, and have a warm supper of oat-cakes
and herrings; and our fire of dry boughs will
do you good."
The noble boy knew there was barely sup-
per enough for two, but did not mind going
hungry to bed for charity's sake. In the ear
of his heart, he heard the words of his
mother: —
"Never fear starving, my son, but freely
share your last loaf with the needy."


THE ELF OF LIGHT. 121
They walked through the forest, the old
man leaning heavily on the youth's shoulder.
"Why should you befriend a poor wretch
who cannot repay you?" whined the dwarf
in a hollow voice which startled Thule, it was
so like the echo sent back by a mountain or a
rock.
." I do not ask or wish to be repaid," was-
the reply. "Don't you know what the prov-
erb says ?' Do good, and throw it into the
sea; if the fishes don't know it, Odin will!'"
"Yes: Odin shall xow it, never fear," an-
swered the dwarf; "out, as I happen to be
informed that your tea-table is not quite large
enough for three, I think I will decline your
invitation to supper. Really, my lad," he
continued, "it would delight me to do you a
little favor; for, though I am only a poor
dwarf, I know how to be grateful. By the
way, have you seen such a thing hereabouts
as a green alder-tree?"


THE ELF OP LIGHT. 123
"Now I wonder what it is you have seen,"
said the good woman, raising her hands in
surprise. "Was he brown, my son, with a
long nose?"
"As brown as a nut, mother, with no end
of nose."'
"Just as I supposed, my child! That
dwarf is a wonderful creature, — one of the
night-elves, a race gifted with great under-
standing. Know, my son, that he carves
runes upon stones; and he no doubt assisted
in making Thor's hammer, that terrible in-
strument which can crush the skull of a
giant."
"One thing I observed," said the boy: "he
blinked at that flashing in the sky, which peo-
ple call Northern Lights; he had to shade his
eyes with his funny little hand."
"Did he, indeed? Poor Elf! Light is pain-
ful to his race; and I have even heard that





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THE ELF OP LIGHT. 125
grown a foot higher; and by daylight its
leaves showed a silver lining.
"May Odin favor my pretty alder!" said
Thule; "nor let the frost pinch it, nor the
winds blacken its green buds!"
Thule went into the woods again; and, as
he was whistling at his work, he happened to
look down, and there, on the ground, at his
feet, lay a purse, well lined with gold. He
counted the pieces: fifty, all bright and new.
"I will go to the town," thought the boy,
shaking his head and sighing (for the gold
was very tempting), " I will go to the town,
and ask who has lost a purse with fifty pieces
of precious gold. Ah, me! I wish I could
keep it!" then we should swim in herrings
and oil; and who knows but, for once in my
life, I. might even get a taste of venison?"
But next moment he loosened his greedy
clutch at the purse. "No matter how brave-


THE ELP OP LIGHT. 129
"I dug up an alder-bush, kind sirs," re-
plied the boy, trembling, and remembering
that his mother had said she was almost
afraid of that little tree.
"There are many alder-bushes," said an-
other of the men gruffly; "but only one i3
green at this time of year, and has silver-
lined leaves. 'It was placed here by com-
mand of the giant Loki, .and no one was to
touch it under pain of death; for, when his
mountain-garden should be laid out in the
spring, the tree was to be uprooted, and
planted therein."
Thule grew almost as stiff and white as if
a frost-giant had suddenly breathed on him.
He knew that Loki was a pitiless god, feared
by all, and beloved by none, — a god who
had an especial grudge against the whole hu-
man race.
"I will hold my peace," thought Thule.
9


130 FAIRY BOOK.
"I will never confess that the tree I carried
away has silver-lined leaves. I will hasten
home, pluck up the bush, and burn it: then
who will be the wiser?"
But Thule, in spite of his trembling, could
not forget his good mother's counsel: —
"Your words, my boy, let them be truth,
and nothing but truth, though a sword should
be swinging over your head."
Then, as soon as his voice returned to him,
he confessed that the tree he had removed
was really just such an one as the men de-
scribed, and begged for mercy, because, as
he said, he had committed the sin ignorantly,
not knowing the mandate of the terrible
giant.
But the men bade Thule lead them to his
mother's house, and point out his stolen treas-
ure; declaring that they could show no mer-
cy; for, when Loki had made a decree, no
man should alter it by one jot or one tittle.


THE ELF OP LIGHT. 131
"Oil!" thought the unfortunate boy, wring-
ing his hands, and trembling till the woollen
tassel on his cap danced a gallopade, " oh, if
the cruel night-elf, who led me into this mis-
chief, would only come forward now, and help
me out of it! But, alas, it is of no avail to
invoke him; for it is now broad daylight,
t and the sun would strike him into a stone im-
age in a twinkling."
When Thule, followed by the messengers
of Loki, had reached the door of his cottage,
he found his gray-haired mother sprinkling
the roots of the beautiful alder, and fondling
its leaves with innocent pleasure. At sight
of the armed men, she started back in af-
fright.
"It is indeed the giant's tree," said the
men to Thule. "Pluck it up, and follow us
with it to Loki's castle on the mountain."
"T9 Loki's castle !" shrieked the wretched


132 FAIRY BOOK.
mother. "Then he must pass a frightful wil-
derness, be assailed by the frost-giants; and,
if there be any breath left in him, Loki will
dash it out at a glance! Have mercy on a
poor old mother, 0 good soldiers!"
The unhappy boy touched the tree, and it
came out of the ground of its own free will;
and, in a trice, stood on its feet, shook out its
branches into arms, and in another moment
was no longer a tree, but a child, with a
beauty as dazzling as sunshine.
"Unfortunate men!" said she, in a voice
whose angriest tones were sweeter than the
music of an iEolian harp, "unfortunate are
you in being the servants of Loki! Go, tell
your cruel master that the schemes he has
plotted against me and mine have all failed:
my enchantment is over forever. Yonder
boy," said she, pointing to little Thule, " has
saved me. I was, and still remain, an eV of


THE ELF OP LIGHT. 133
light, as playful an9 harmless as sunshine.
The merciless Loki, enraged at the love I
bear the children of men, changed me to a
little alder-tree, which is the emblem of girl-
hood. But he had no power to keep me in
that form forever. He was obliged to make
a condition, and he made the hardest one that
his artful mind could invent: 'Since you love
mortals so dearly/ said he,'no one but a mor-
tal shall free you from your imprisonment.
You shall remain a tree till a good child shall
touch you,—a child who is generous enough
to SHARE HIS LAST LOAF WITH A STRANGER,
honest enough to give back a reward for
his honesty, brave enough to speak the
TRUTH WHEN A LIE WOULD HAVE SAVED HIS
life. Long shall you wait for such a deliv-
erer!'
"Now how amazed will Loki be when
he learns that this little boy has been


134 PAIRY BOOK.
tempted in all these particulars, yet proves
true. My poor soldiers, you may return
whence you came, for the alder-tree will
never rustle its silver leaves in the moun-
tain-garden of Loki."
Then the men disappeared, not sorry that
the good boy had escaped his threatened
doom.
Thule, looking at the beautiful elf so lately
a tree, could hardly trust his own eyes; and
I fancy that many a boy, even at the present
day, would have felt rather bewildered under
the circumstances.
"Shining child!" said he: "you look vastly
like the wonderful little being who led me
out of the forest yesterday."
"That may well be," replied the elf of
light; "for she is my sister. The brown
dwarf who pointed out to you the alder-tree


138 FAIRY BOOK.
In childhood Zora had been very fair; and
the courtiers had petted her, and pronounced
her even fairer than the princess; but her
beauty had never meant any thing but bright
eyes and cherry cheeks: so it could not last.
If she had only cherished pure thoughts and
kind wishes, she might still have been as
lovely as Hilda; but who does not know that
evil feelings write themselves on the face?
Jealousy had pulled her mouth down at
the corners; deceit had given it a foolish
smirk; spite had plowed an ugly frown in
her brow; while she had tried so many arts
to make her rich brown skin as delicately
white as Hilda's, that it was changed to the
tint of chrome yellow.
It was said in those days, that Zora was in
the power of wicked fairies, who twisted her
features into the shape that pleased them
best.


THE PRINCESS HILDA. 141
mortals, are attracted by what is akin to
themselves.
She was descended from a race called ko-.
holds or goblins; and she loved all the metals
which lie under the earth as well as the liv-
ing things which crawl up out of its bosom.
So acute were her ears, that she heard
Zora's steps from a great distance. She
brushed back her elf-locks, and gave a low
grunt like some wild beast. It pleased her
that the Lady Zora should find need of her
counsel; but, when Zora had reached the
cave, the cunning fairy pretended to be sleep-
ing, and started up in seeming surprise.
"What brings a body here at this time of
night?" said she.
'"I am Lady Zora. I have come, sweet
fairy, to beg a favor. The Princess Hilda is
hateful to me: work one of your charms on
her, and let me see her face no more."


144 FAIBT BOOK.
Reginald, you will let me change you into a
charming green snake."
"Alas!" cried Zora, turning pale, "who
ever heard of such a cruel request?"
"Cruel, am I?" said the goblin in delight.
"Oh, I must seem cruel to one who is so
gentle and lovely as Hilda!"
"Alas," cried Zora, "I may fail to win
Prince Reginald."
"All the better," chuckled the fairy.
"When you become a snake, you and I shall
enjoy each other's society, I assure you."
Zora shuddered.
"But it's all one to me," added the goblin,
beginning to yawn. "On the whole, I think
you may as well go home."
Zora wrung her hands, and groaned.
"Yes," said the gnome: "go back to the
castle. Ugh! I would sooner trust one of
my winking owls to do a daring deed than
I


THE PRINCESS HILDA. 145
you I Fie upon you! Creep back to your
bed, and let Hilda marry the prince: a
lovely pair they will make. Off with you,
for I have to make up my sleep I have
lost."
But Zora was thinking.
"I am silly indeed!" she said to herself.
"Why do I fear that I shall not win the love
of Prince Reginald? Only Hilda stands in
my way." Then she said aloud, —
"Lovely being! sweetest of all the race!
Great as is my horror, I will consent to your
will."
Just then was heard a crackling in the dry
leaves.
"Only a snake," said the goblin. Zora
trembled.
"Will you promise me that Hilda will
never trouble me again?"
"I promise," said the goblin, with one of
10


THE PRINCESS HILDA. 147
A mist arose, in which Zora could see dim
figures, one after another. Zora held her
breath. * Gerula muttered again in low
tones, —
"Hilda is gentle, and dreams of no guile;
The little gnomes sit and weep;
'Make her, — if must be, — a snowy wee lamb,
In the fold with her father's sheep.'"
Zora clapped her hands in delight. But
just then, a faint sound was heard, as of some
one talking between the teeth. Then Zora
spoke, and the charm was broken. She did
not intend to speak; but asked, " What noise
was that?" before she thought.
"You have broken the charm," said the
fairy. "The soft-hearted gnomes are unwill-
ing to punish Hilda; but I hoped, by my
craft, I could force them to keep her a lamb
forever; or, at most, to let her grow to a
sheep, and die by the knife.


148 FAIRY BOOK.
"I will now weave a new charm; but I
fear me they will repent; and Hilda will
not be got out of the way, after all. Not
a word more, I warn you."
So saying, the goblin made another circle
three times, on the ground, and again mut-
tered, —
"How long is fair Hilda a snowy wee lamb?
_ The little gnomes cry,' We fear
Till comes a brave lion so tender and true,
She lives by his side a year.'"
Zora clapped her hands again. "That is
well," said she, "for never was a lion seen
who could let a little helpless lamb pass his
way without tearing it in pieces."
"True," said the gnome, well pleased, " it
has worked well. Hilda will never trouble
you again: so creep home softly, and go to
your rest: dream of bats and creeping


THE PRINCESS HILDA. 151
Was this Zora's return for her cousin's
love? The princess would fain have ex-
pressed her grief and amazement.
"Pray don't try to talk, my bonny wee
thing! It is not one of your gifts, at pres-
ent. Your voice has ceased to be musical.
I can sing now as well as you. Go to nib-
bling grass, deary, and a long life to you!"
Then the treacherous Zora turned on her
heel, and left her poor cousin to her mute
despair.
A search was made far and wide for the
missing princess. Forests were hunted,
rivers were dragged; but without avail.
Deep gloom fell on the people, and the queen
nearly died of sorrow. They all believed
Hilda dead, all but Zora, who knew too well
her cruel fate.
Then Zora was treated like the king's
daughter. Wherever she went, there were ser-


154 FAIRY BOOK.
"I will go," thought poor Hildegarde ; " let
the lion tear me in pieces. Sooner would I
perish, than live on, a poor wee lamb all my
days."
So she went up to the cage, though with a
faint heart; but the lion put his paw out of
the bars, and stroked her face, as if he would
bid her welcome. The keeper reported the
fact with great surprise.
It may be that the beautiful brown eyes of
the lamb tamed the fierce spirit of the lion;
for they were human eyes, full of Hilde-
garde's own soul. Be that as it may, the
lamb went every day to the cage, till the lion
learned to watch for her, and gave a low
growl of joy when he saw her coming. At
last the keeper ventured to drop her care-
fully into the cage. The lion was beside
himself with joy; and, after that, the lamb
was placed in the cage every morning, and
only taken out at night.


156 PAIRY BOOK.
"Thrice welcome, sweet Hilda! the little gnomes say
At sunrise their charms shall end;
So go to the lion, and open the cage;
The prince is your own true friend."
This was so sudden and unexpected that
the happy Hilda could hardly believe her
senses. She gazed at her jewelled fingers;
she touched her velvet robe. "It is Hilde-
garde," said she dreamily; "where has she
stayed so long?"
She went to the cage; and, finding the key
hanging on the outside, would fain have freed
the poor lion, but thought of the terror it
would cause the sheep and deer, and dared
not do it.
She put her soft white arms within the
bars, saying, —
"You have been a true friend to the little
white lamb. She has found her tongue again,
and can say so. Kind old lion, gentle pris-
oner, Hildegarde will not forget you."


158 FAIRY BOOK.
the prince told Hildegarde, that he had loved
her for a twelvemonth and a day.
He described Hilda's visit to the cruel gob-
lin. He said that he himself had overheard
the two talking together, had ground his
teeth, and sighed. Then the gnomes, seeing
his grief, had come asking him if he would be
changed for a year, and maybe for life, into a
lion; and for Hildegarde's sake he had gladly
consented.
Hearing all these things, the grateful prin-
cess wept, and said, —
"Now I know that Prince Eeginald is my
own true friend."
The prince led Hilda to the palace, and
presented her to the king and queen. Great
was the wonder, and loud the rejoicing
throughout the land.
The treacherous Zora was seen no more,
but was changed into a slender green snake;


THE PRINCESS HILDA. 159
and the king said she deserved her fate;
"for, mark you," cried he, "there is no crime
worse than to play false to those whom we
pretend to love."
But Prince Reginald and Hildegarde were
married, and lived in peace all the rest of
their lives.


160 FAIKY BOOK.
GOLDILOCKS.
"A king lived long ago,
In the morning of the world,"
who had two children, Despard and Goldi-
locks. They were twin brother and sister,
but no more alike than a queen-lily and a
nightshade, a raven and a dove.
Goldilocks was a bright young damsel,
with hair like fine threads of gold, and a face
so radiant that people questioned if the blood
in heir veins might not be liquid sunshine.
Her eyes were as soft as violets; and her
laugh was like the music of a spring robin.
Despard, on the other hand, was as melan-
choly as an owl. His raven hair cast gloomy


GOLDILOCKS. 165
your old nurse behind. You may well weep,
my good little boy: there is to be no rest for
your feet till you have travelled over the
whole world, from north to south."
Despard groaned aloud; but Goldilocks
clapped her hands and laughed. "Oh, let us
start to-night," she cried.
"When the sun-god has made twelve jour-
neys in his winged boat," sighed Sibyl, " and
when the young moon has arisen out of the
ocean, then you may go."
And, at the appointed time, the faithful
Hurse, with many tears, prepared her foster-
children for their long journey. She took
from a worm-eaten coffer some family heir-
looms, which had been lying since the days
of the Golden Age, enveloped in rose-leaves
and gold paper.
She placed in the hand of Despard a dag-
ger with a jewelled hilt, a quiver of poisoned


166 PAIEY BOOK.
arrows, and a glittering sword, with a blade
sharper than a serpent's tooth.
But to Goldilocks she gave a flask of
smooth, fragrant oil, a vase of crystal-bright
water, and a fan made of the feathers of the
beautiful bird of Paradise.
Kissing the little pilgrims, she said, —
"These gifts have been saved for you
these many years: use them as an inward
voice shall whisper you: I give you my bless-
ing. The gods attend you! Farewell."
The children at first walked on sorrow-
fully; but soon the gay spirits of Goldilocks
rebounded, and she waltzed hither and thith-
er, like a morsel of thistle-down.
"See, brother," said she, " we almost fly!
What a glorious thing it is to go on a pil-
grimage! I am glad the beautiful Silver
Age has come, and Jupiter has given us
leave to take a peep at the world!"


GOLDILOCKS. 167
"All very well for you to say," moaned
Despard; "you flit about as if you had
wings on your feet; while, as for me, it is
true I move with equal speed, but so pain-
fully that I wonder my footprints are not
stained with blood."
Soon the children observed, not far off,
a party of youths rowing on the bosom of a
lake. They sat in a rocking, unsteady little
bark, but were in gay spirits, blowing bub-
bles, watching idle clouds, and throwing up
empty shouts to be caught up and echoed by
the hills.
"I wish we had not seen these happy peo-
ple," sighed Despard; "for, if you can be-
lieve me, sister, I really feel as if I must pelt
them with my arrows."
So saying, little Despard began to fire his
poisonous darts at random.
"Why, brother," cried Goldilocks, in alarm,


170 FAIEY BOOK.
come again, and then you would cease scat-
tering mischief and trouble."
The little ones, suddenly stopped in their
play by the army of insects, ran hither and
thither over the meadow, screaming with
pain. But Goldilocks appeared in the midst
of them, with her shining hair, violet eyes,
and laugh like the music of a spring robin.
"Come to me," said she; "let me kiss
away the stings."
In a very short space the children were
soothed, and had forgotten their trouble.
Then they threw their little arms about Goldi-
locks' neck, and begged her to stay and play
with them.
"Sweet children, it is my mission, — so the
stars say, — to travel all over this world,
from north to south. But, for all that, I will
frolic with you till the sun sets."
"Will the sad boy come too?" asked the
children.


GOLDILOCKS. 171
Goldilocks shook her bright curls. "He
is planting a garden," said she; "no need to
ask him; he hears nothing while he is at
play, and his games are as solemn as mid-
night."
The children made believe that the beauti-
ful Goldilocks, in her rose-colored dress, with
her beaming hair and flying feet, was a great
butterfly, which they were trying to catch.
Now here, now there, the glowing butterfly
flitted from flower to flower, leading her fol-
lowers a merry chase. Every child thought
to seize and hold her, for a kiss. She
laughed; and the breezes danced with her
hair, like —
"Zephyr with Aurora playing,
As he met her once a-Maying."
But before any one had kissed or even
touched her, she had disappeared, leaving


GOLDILOCKS. 173
"It is pleasant to see any thing smile,
even a flower," said Goldilocks, laughing as
she spoke.
"I think," replied Despard, " that this is a
strange pilgrimage. I believe our very
thoughts are alive. I wish I could stop
thinking."
By and by they came to a rude house, — as
fine a one, though, as people in the Silver
Age had yet learned how to build. Despard
paused, and knocked gently. "Why linger
here?" whispered his sister.
"I know not," sighed the boy, "but so
must I do."
"How now, little ones? you startled me
so !" cried a woman, opening the door by the
width of a crack.
"Let us come in," said Despard, sorrow-
fully; "we are two little wanderers; and our
hairs are wet with night-dews."


174 PAIEY BOOK.
"Come in, then, little ones, and welcome;
but never, at any one's door, knock so lond
again," added the woman, pressing her hand
against her heart.
"I only tapped with the ends of my fin-
gers," said the boy.
"Ah," said the woman, "it was louder to
me than thunder." Then, after she had set
before them a supper of bread and milk, she
rocked her baby, and sang to it a sweet cradle-
song about mother Juno and high Olympus.
The children lay down on beds of rushes;
and Goldilocks, soothed by the lullaby, fell
asleep; but soon awoke, and saw her brother
leaning, on tiptoe, over the osier basket.
The baby's face looked, in the moonlight,
white and pinched; and its sick hands were
pressed together like two withered rose-
leaves.
"Let me kiss him," whispered Goldilocks