Down in the deep blue sea lived Ripple, a happy little Water-Spirit;
all day long she danced beneath the coral arches, made garlands of
bright ocean flowers, or floated on the great waves that sparkled in
the sunlight; but the pastime that she loved best was lying in the
many-colored shells upon the shore, listening to the low, murmuring
music the waves had taught them long ago; and here for hours the little
Spirit lay watching the sea and sky, while singing gayly to herself.
But when tempests rose, she hastened down below the stormy billows, to
where all was calm and still, and with her sister Spirits waited till
it should be fair again, listening sadly, meanwhile, to the cries of
those whom the wild waves wrecked and cast into the angry sea, and who
soon came floating down, pale and cold, to the Spirits’ pleasant home;
then they wept pitying tears above the lifeless forms, and laid them in
quiet graves, where flowers bloomed, and jewels sparkled in the sand.
This was Ripple’s only grief, and she often thought of those who
sorrowed for the friends they loved, who now slept far down in the dim
and silent coral caves, and gladly would she have saved the lives of
those who lay around her; but the great ocean was far mightier than all
the tender-hearted Spirits dwelling in its bosom. Thus she could only
weep for them, and lay them down to sleep where no cruel waves could
harm them more.
One day, when a fearful storm raged far and wide, and the Spirits saw
great billows rolling like heavy clouds above their heads, and heard
the wild winds sounding far away, down through the foaming waves a
little child came floating to their home; its eyes were closed as if in
sleep, the long hair fell like sea-weed round its pale, cold face, and
the little hands still clasped the shells they had been gathering on
the beach, when the great waves swept it into the troubled sea.
With tender tears the Spirits laid the little form to rest upon its bed
of flowers, and, singing mournful songs, as if to make its sleep more
calm and deep, watched long and lovingly above it, till the storm had
died away, and all was still again.
While Ripple sang above the little child, through the distant roar of
winds and waves she heard a wild, sorrowing voice, that seemed to call
for help. Long she listened, thinking it was but the echo of their own
plaintive song, but high above the music still sounded the sad, wailing
cry. Then, stealing silently away, she glided up through foam and
spray, till, through the parting clouds, the sunlight shone upon her
from the tranquil sky; and, guided by the mournful sound, she floated
on, till, close before her on the beach, she saw a woman stretching
forth her arms, and with a sad, imploring voice praying the restless
sea to give her back the little child it had so cruelly borne away. But
the waves dashed foaming up among the bare rocks at her feet, mingling
their cold spray with her tears, and gave no answer to her prayer.
When Ripple saw the mother’s grief, she longed to comfort her; so,
bending tenderly beside her, where she knelt upon the shore, the little
Spirit told her how her child lay softly sleeping, far down in a lovely
place, where sorrowing tears were shed, and gentle hands laid garlands
over him. But all in vain she whispered kindly words; the weeping
mother only cried,—
“Dear Spirit, can you use no charm or spell to make the waves bring
back my child, as full of life and strength as when they swept him from
my side? O give me back my little child, or let me lie beside him in
the bosom of the cruel sea.”
“Most gladly will I help you if I can, though I have little power to
use; then grieve no more, for I will search both earth and sea, to find
some friend who can bring back all you have lost. Watch daily on the
shore, and if I do not come again, then you will know my search has
been in vain. Farewell, poor mother, you shall see your little child
again, if Fairy power can win him back.” And with these cheering words
Ripple sprang into the sea; while, smiling through her tears, the woman
watched the gentle Spirit, till her bright crown vanished in the waves.
When Ripple reached her home, she hastened to the palace of the Queen,
and told her of the little child, the sorrowing mother, and the promise
she had made.
“Good little Ripple,” said the Queen, when she had told her all, “your
promise never can be kept; there is no power below the sea to work this
charm, and you can never reach the Fire-Spirits’ home, to win from them
a flame to warm the little body into life. I pity the poor mother, and
would most gladly help her; but alas! I am a Spirit like yourself, and
cannot serve you as I long to do.”
“Ah, dear Queen! if you had seen her sorrow, you too would seek to keep
the promise I have made. I cannot let her watch for ME in vain, till I
have done my best: then tell me where the Fire-Spirits dwell, and I
will ask of them the flame that shall give life to the little child and
such great happiness to the sad, lonely mother: tell me the path, and
let me go.”
“It is far, far away, high up above the sun, where no Spirit ever dared
to venture yet,” replied the Queen. “I cannot show the path, for it is
through the air. Dear Ripple, do not go, for you can never reach that
distant place: some harm most surely will befall; and then how shall we
live, without our dearest, gentlest Spirit? Stay here with us in your
own pleasant home, and think no more of this, for I can never let you
go.”
But Ripple would not break the promise she had made, and besought so
earnestly, and with such pleading words, that the Queen at last with
sorrow gave consent, and Ripple joyfully prepared to go. She, with her
sister Spirits, built up a tomb of delicate, bright-colored shells,
wherein the child might lie, till she should come to wake him into
life; then, praying them to watch most faithfully above it, she said
farewell, and floated bravely forth, on her long, unknown journey, far
away.
“I will search the broad earth till I find a path up to the sun, or
some kind friend who will carry me; for, alas! I have no wings, and
cannot glide through the blue air as through the sea,” said Ripple to
herself, as she went dancing over the waves, which bore her swiftly
onward towards a distant shore.
Long she journeyed through the pathless ocean, with no friends to cheer
her, save the white sea-birds who went sweeping by, and only stayed to
dip their wide wings at her side, and then flew silently away.
Sometimes great ships sailed by, and then with longing eyes did the
little Spirit gaze up at the faces that looked down upon the sea; for
often they were kind and pleasant ones, and she gladly would have
called to them and asked them to be friends. But they would never
understand the strange, sweet language that she spoke, or even see the
lovely face that smiled at them above the waves; her blue, transparent
garments were but water to their eyes, and the pearl chains in her hair
but foam and sparkling spray; so, hoping that the sea would be most
gentle with them, silently she floated on her way, and left them far
behind.
At length green hills were seen, and the waves gladly bore the little
Spirit on, till, rippling gently over soft white sand, they left her on
the pleasant shore.
“Ah, what a lovely place it is!” said Ripple, as she passed through
sunny valleys, where flowers began to bloom, and young leaves rustled
on the trees.
“Why are you all so gay, dear birds?” she asked, as their cheerful
voices sounded far and near; “is there a festival over the earth, that
all is so beautiful and bright?”
“Do you not know that Spring is coming? The warm winds whispered it
days ago, and we are learning the sweetest songs, to welcome her when
she shall come,” sang the lark, soaring away as the music gushed from
his little throat.
“And shall I see her, Violet, as she journeys over the earth?” asked
Ripple again.
“Yes, you will meet her soon, for the sunlight told me she was near;
tell her we long to see her again, and are waiting to welcome her
back,” said the blue flower, dancing for joy on her stem, as she nodded
and smiled on the Spirit.
“I will ask Spring where the Fire-Spirits dwell; she travels over the
earth each year, and surely can show me the way,” thought Ripple, as
she went journeying on.
Soon she saw Spring come smiling over the earth; sunbeams and breezes
floated before, and then, with her white garments covered with flowers,
with wreaths in her hair, and dew-drops and seeds falling fast from her
hands the beautiful season came singing by.
“Dear Spring, will you listen, and help a poor little Spirit, who seeks
far and wide for the Fire-Spirits’ home?” cried Ripple; and then told
why she was there, and begged her to tell what she sought.
“The Fire-Spirits’ home is far, far away, and I cannot guide you there;
but Summer is coming behind me,” said Spring, “and she may know better
than I. But I will give you a breeze to help you on your way; it will
never tire nor fail, but bear you easily over land and sea. Farewell,
little Spirit! I would gladly do more, but voices are calling me far
and wide, and I cannot stay.”
“Many thanks, kind Spring!” cried Ripple, as she floated away on the
breeze; “give a kindly word to the mother who waits on the shore, and
tell her I have not forgotten my vow, but hope soon to see her again.”
Then Spring flew on with her sunshine and flowers, and Ripple went
swiftly over hill and vale, till she came to the land where Summer was
dwelling. Here the sun shone warmly down on the early fruit, the winds
blew freshly over fields of fragrant hay, and rustled with a pleasant
sound among the green leaves in the forests; heavy dews fell softly
down at night, and long, bright days brought strength and beauty to the
blossoming earth.
“Now I must seek for Summer,” said Ripple, as she sailed slowly through
the sunny sky.
“I am here, what would you with me, little Spirit?” said a musical
voice in her ear; and, floating by her side, she saw a graceful form,
with green robes fluttering in the air, whose pleasant face looked
kindly on her, from beneath a crown of golden sunbeams that cast a
warm, bright glow on all beneath.
Then Ripple told her tale, and asked where she should go; but Summer
answered,—
“I can tell no more than my young sister Spring where you may find the
Spirits that you seek; but I too, like her, will give a gift to aid
you. Take this sunbeam from my crown; it will cheer and brighten the
most gloomy path through which you pass. Farewell! I shall carry
tidings of you to the watcher by the sea, if in my journey round the
world I find her there.”
And Summer, giving her the sunbeam, passed away over the distant hills,
leaving all green and bright behind her.
So Ripple journeyed on again, till the earth below her shone with
yellow harvests waving in the sun, and the air was filled with cheerful
voices, as the reapers sang among the fields or in the pleasant
vineyards, where purple fruit hung gleaming through the leaves; while
the sky above was cloudless, and the changing forest-trees shone like a
many-colored garland, over hill and plain; and here, along the ripening
corn-fields, with bright wreaths of crimson leaves and golden
wheat-ears in her hair and on her purple mantle, stately Autumn passed,
with a happy smile on her calm face, as she went scattering generous
gifts from her full arms.
But when the wandering Spirit came to her, and asked for what she
sought, this season, like the others, could not tell her where to go;
so, giving her a yellow leaf, Autumn said, as she passed on,—
“Ask Winter, little Ripple, when you come to his cold home; he knows
the Fire-Spirits well, for when he comes they fly to the earth, to warm
and comfort those dwelling there; and perhaps he can tell you where
they are. So take this gift of mine, and when you meet his chilly
winds, fold it about you, and sit warm beneath its shelter, till you
come to sunlight again. I will carry comfort to the patient woman, as
my sisters have already done, and tell her you are faithful still.”
Then on went the never-tiring Breeze, over forest, hill, and field,
till the sky grew dark, and bleak winds whistled by. Then Ripple,
folded in the soft, warm leaf, looked sadly down on the earth, that
seemed to lie so desolate and still beneath its shroud of snow, and
thought how bitter cold the leaves and flowers must be; for the little
Water-Spirit did not know that Winter spread a soft white covering
above their beds, that they might safely sleep below till Spring should
waken them again. So she went sorrowfully on, till Winter, riding on
the strong North-Wind, came rushing by, with a sparkling ice-crown in
his streaming hair, while from beneath his crimson cloak, where
glittering frost-work shone like silver threads, he scattered
snow-flakes far and wide.
“What do you seek with me, fair little Spirit, that you come so bravely
here amid my ice and snow? Do not fear me; I am warm at heart, though
rude and cold without,” said Winter, looking kindly on her, while a
bright smile shone like sunlight on his pleasant face, as it glowed and
glistened in the frosty air.
When Ripple told him why she had come, he pointed upward, where the
sunlight dimly shone through the heavy clouds, saying,—
“Far off there, beside the sun, is the Fire-Spirits’ home; and the only
path is up, through cloud and mist. It is a long, strange path, for a
lonely little Spirit to be going; the Fairies are wild, wilful things,
and in their play may harm and trouble you. Come back with me, and do
not go this dangerous journey to the sky. I’ll gladly bear you home
again, if you will come.”
But Ripple said, “I cannot turn back now, when I am nearly there. The
Spirits surely will not harm me, when I tell them why I am come; and if
I win the flame, I shall be the happiest Spirit in the sea, for my
promise will be kept, and the poor mother happy once again. So
farewell, Winter! Speak to her gently, and tell her to hope still, for
I shall surely come.”
“Adieu, little Ripple! May good angels watch above you! Journey bravely
on, and take this snow-flake that will never melt, as MY gift,” Winter
cried, as the North-Wind bore him on, leaving a cloud of falling snow
behind.
“Now, dear Breeze,” said Ripple, “fly straight upward through the air,
until we reach the place we have so long been seeking; Sunbeam shall go
before to light the way, Yellow-leaf shall shelter me from heat and
rain, while Snow-flake shall lie here beside me till it comes of use.
So farewell to the pleasant earth, until we come again. And now away,
up to the sun!”
When Ripple first began her airy journey, all was dark and dreary;
heavy clouds lay piled like hills around her, and a cold mist filled
the air but the Sunbeam, like a star, lit up the way, the leaf lay
warmly round her, and the tireless wind went swiftly on. Higher and
higher they floated up, still darker and darker grew the air, closer
the damp mist gathered, while the black clouds rolled and tossed, like
great waves, to and fro.
“Ah!” sighed the weary little Spirit, “shall I never see the light
again, or feel the warm winds on my cheek? It is a dreary way indeed,
and but for the Seasons’ gifts I should have perished long ago; but the
heavy clouds MUST pass away at last, and all be fair again. So hasten
on, good Breeze, and bring me quickly to my journey’s end.”
Soon the cold vapors vanished from her path, and sunshine shone upon
her pleasantly; so she went gayly on, till she came up among the stars,
where many new, strange sights were to be seen. With wondering eyes she
looked upon the bright worlds that once seemed dim and distant, when
she gazed upon them from the sea; but now they moved around her, some
shining with a softly radiant light, some circled with bright,
many-colored rings, while others burned with a red, angry glare. Ripple
would have gladly stayed to watch them longer, for she fancied low,
sweet voices called her, and lovely faces seemed to look upon her as
she passed; but higher up still, nearer to the sun, she saw a far-off
light, that glittered like a brilliant crimson star, and seemed to cast
a rosy glow along the sky.
“The Fire-Spirits surely must be there, and I must stay no longer
here,” said Ripple. So steadily she floated on, till straight before
her lay a broad, bright path, that led up to a golden arch, beyond
which she could see shapes flitting to and fro. As she drew near,
brighter glowed the sky, hotter and hotter grew the air, till Ripple’s
leaf-cloak shrivelled up, and could no longer shield her from the heat;
then she unfolded the white snow-flake, and, gladly wrapping the soft,
cool mantle round her, entered through the shining arch.
Through the red mist that floated all around her, she could see high
walls of changing light, where orange, blue, and violet flames went
flickering to and fro, making graceful figures as they danced and
glowed; and underneath these rainbow arches, little Spirits glided, far
and near, wearing crowns of fire, beneath which flashed their wild,
bright eyes; and as they spoke, sparks dropped quickly from their lips,
and Ripple saw with wonder, through their garments of transparent
light, that in each Fairy’s breast there burned a steady flame, that
never wavered or went out.
As thus she stood, the Spirits gathered round her, and their hot breath
would have scorched her, but she drew the snow-cloak closer round her,
saying,—
“Take me to your Queen, that I may tell her why I am here, and ask for
what I seek.”
So, through long halls of many-colored fire, they led her to a Spirit
fairer than the rest, whose crown of flames waved to and fro like
golden plumes, while, underneath her violet robe, the light within her
breast glowed bright and strong.
“This is our Queen,” the Spirits said, bending low before her, as she
turned her gleaming eyes upon the stranger they had brought.
Then Ripple told how she had wandered round the world in search of
them, how the Seasons had most kindly helped her on, by giving
Sun-beam, Breeze, Leaf, and Flake; and how, through many dangers, she
had come at last to ask of them the magic flame that could give life to
the little child again.
When she had told her tale, the spirits whispered earnestly among
themselves, while sparks fell thick and fast with every word; at length
the Fire-Queen said aloud,—
“We cannot give the flame you ask, for each of us must take a part of
it from our own breasts; and this we will not do, for the brighter our
bosom-fire burns, the lovelier we are. So do not ask us for this thing;
but any other gift we will most gladly give, for we feel kindly towards
you, and will serve you if we may.”
But Ripple asked no other boon, and, weeping sadly, begged them not to
send her back without the gift she had come so far to gain.
“O dear, warm-hearted Spirits! give me each a little light from your
own breasts, and surely they will glow the brighter for this kindly
deed; and I will thankfully repay it if I can.” As thus she spoke, the
Queen, who had spied out a chain of jewels Ripple wore upon her neck,
replied,—
“If you will give me those bright, sparkling stones, I will bestow on
you a part of my own flame; for we have no such lovely things to wear
about our necks, and I desire much to have them. Will you give it me
for what I offer, little Spirit?”
Joyfully Ripple gave her the chain; but, as soon as it touched her
hand, the jewels melted like snow, and fell in bright drops to the
ground; at this the Queen’s eyes flashed, and the Spirits gathered
angrily about poor Ripple, who looked sadly at the broken chain, and
thought in vain what she could give, to win the thing she longed so
earnestly for.
“I have many fairer gems than these, in my home below the sea; and I
will bring all I can gather far and wide, if you will grant my prayer,
and give me what I seek,” she said, turning gently to the fiery
Spirits, who were hovering fiercely round her.
“You must bring us each a jewel that will never vanish from our hands
as these have done,” they said, “and we will each give of our fire; and
when the child is brought to life, you must bring hither all the jewels
you can gather from the depths of the sea, that we may try them here
among the flames; but if they melt away like these, then we shall keep
you prisoner, till you give us back the light we lend. If you consent
to this, then take our gift, and journey home again; but fail not to
return, or we shall seek you out.”
And Ripple said she would consent, though she knew not if the jewels
could be found; still, thinking of the promise she had made, she forgot
all else, and told the Spirits what they asked most surely should be
done. So each one gave a little of the fire from their breasts, and
placed the flame in a crystal vase, through which it shone and
glittered like a star.
Then, bidding her remember all she had promised them, they led her to
the golden arch, and said farewell.
So, down along the shining path, through mist and cloud, she travelled
back; till, far below, she saw the broad blue sea she left so long ago.
Gladly she plunged into the clear, cool waves, and floated back to her
pleasant home; where the Spirits gathered joyfully about her, listening
with tears and smiles, as she told all her many wanderings, and showed
the crystal vase that she had brought.
“Now come,” said they, “and finish the good work you have so bravely
carried on.” So to the quiet tomb they went, where, like a marble
image, cold and still, the little child was lying. Then Ripple placed
the flame upon his breast, and watched it gleam and sparkle there,
while light came slowly back into the once dim eyes, a rosy glow shone
over the pale face, and breath stole through the parted lips; still
brighter and warmer burned the magic fire, until the child awoke from
his long sleep, and looked in smiling wonder at the faces bending over
him.
Then Ripple sang for joy, and, with her sister Spirits, robed the child
in graceful garments, woven of bright sea-weed, while in his shining
hair they wreathed long garlands of their fairest flowers, and on his
little arms hung chains of brilliant shells.
“Now come with us, dear child,” said Ripple; “we will bear you safely
up into the sunlight and the pleasant air; for this is not your home,
and yonder, on the shore, there waits a loving friend for you.”
So up they went, through foam and spray, till on the beach, where the
fresh winds played among her falling hair, and the waves broke
sparkling at her feet, the lonely mother still stood, gazing wistfully
across the sea. Suddenly, upon a great blue billow that came rolling
in, she saw the Water-Spirits smiling on her; and high aloft, in their
white gleaming arms, her child stretched forth his hands to welcome
her; while the little voice she so longed to hear again cried gayly,—
“See, dear mother, I am come; and look what lovely things the gentle
Spirits gave, that I might seem more beautiful to you.”
Then gently the great wave broke, and rolled back to the sea, leaving
Ripple on the shore, and the child clasped in his mother’s arms.
“O faithful little Spirit! I would gladly give some precious gift to
show my gratitude for this kind deed; but I have nothing save this
chain of little pearls: they are the tears I shed, and the sea has
changed them thus, that I might offer them to you,” the happy mother
said, when her first joy was passed, and Ripple turned to go.
“Yes, I will gladly wear your gift, and look upon it as my fairest
ornament,” the Water-Spirit said; and with the pearls upon her breast,
she left the shore, where the child was playing gayly to and fro, and
the mother’s glad smile shone upon her, till she sank beneath the
waves.
And now another task was to be done; her promise to the Fire-Spirits
must be kept. So far and wide she searched among the caverns of the
sea, and gathered all the brightest jewels shining there; and then upon
her faithful Breeze once more went journeying through the sky.
The Spirits gladly welcomed her, and led her to the Queen, before whom
she poured out the sparkling gems she had gathered with such toil and
care; but when the Spirits tried to form them into crowns, they
trickled from their hands like colored drops of dew, and Ripple saw
with fear and sorrow how they melted one by one away, till none of all
the many she had brought remained. Then the Fire-Spirits looked upon
her angrily, and when she begged them to be merciful, and let her try
once more, saying,—
“Do not keep me prisoner here. I cannot breathe the flames that give
you life, and but for this snow-mantle I too should melt away, and
vanish like the jewels in your hands. O dear Spirits, give me some
other task, but let me go from this warm place, where all is strange
and fearful to a Spirit of the sea.”
They would not listen; and drew nearer, saying, while bright sparks
showered from their lips, “We will not let you go, for you have
promised to be ours if the gems you brought proved worthless; so fling
away this cold white cloak, and bathe with us in the fire fountains,
and help us bring back to our bosom flames the light we gave you for
the child.”
Then Ripple sank down on the burning floor, and felt that her life was
nearly done; for she well knew the hot air of the fire-palace would be
death to her. The Spirits gathered round, and began to lift her mantle
off; but underneath they saw the pearl chain, shining with a clear,
soft light, that only glowed more brightly when they laid their hands
upon it.
“O give us this!” cried they; “it is far lovelier than all the rest,
and does not melt away like them; and see how brilliantly it glitters
in our hands. If we may but have this, all will be well, and you are
once more free.”
And Ripple, safe again beneath her snow flake, gladly gave the chain to
them; and told them how the pearls they now placed proudly on their
breasts were formed of tears, which but for them might still be
flowing. Then the Spirits smiled most kindly on her, and would have put
their arms about her, and have kissed her cheek, but she drew back,
telling them that every touch of theirs was like a wound to her.
“Then, if we may not tell our pleasure so, we will show it in a
different way, and give you a pleasant journey home. Come out with us,”
the Spirits said, “and see the bright path we have made for you.” So
they led her to the lofty gate, and here, from sky to earth, a lovely
rainbow arched its radiant colors in the sun.
“This is indeed a pleasant road,” said Ripple. “Thank you, friendly
Spirits, for your care; and now farewell. I would gladly stay yet
longer, but we cannot dwell together, and I am longing sadly for my own
cool home. Now Sunbeam, Breeze, Leaf, and Flake, fly back to the
Seasons whence you came, and tell them that, thanks to their kind
gifts, Ripple’s work at last is done.”
Then down along the shining pathway spread before her, the happy little
Spirit glided to the sea.
“Thanks, dear Summer-Wind,” said the Queen; “we will remember the
lessons you have each taught us, and when next we meet in Fern Dale,
you shall tell us more. And now, dear Trip, call them from the lake,
for the moon is sinking fast, and we must hasten home.”
The Elves gathered about their Queen, and while the rustling leaves
were still, and the flowers’ sweet voices mingled with their own, they
sang this