raised platform covered with silk embroidered with real gold, and edged
with crystals, and on the platform were seated a prince and princess of
such surpassing loveliness that no words can be found to describe them.
They were dressed in the richest velvet, and covered with precious stones
which blazed and sparkled in the myriad lights until the eye could scarce
bear to look at them.
Over her lovely robe the princess's hair flowed down to the floor, where
it rested in great shining, golden waves. In her hand she held a golden
sceptre, on the top of which blazed a diamond as large as a walnut, while
the prince carried one with a sapphire of equal size. After a deal of
marching backwards and forwards, the platform was placed on the highest
point of the Gump, which was now a hill of flowers, and every fairy walked
up and bowed, said something to the prince and princess, and passed on to
a seat at the tables. And the marvel was that though there were so many
fairies present, there was not the slightest confusion amongst them, not
one person moved out of place at the wrong moment. All was as quiet and
well-arranged as could possibly be.
At length all were seated, whereupon the prince gave a signal, on which a
number of footmen came forward carrying a table laden with dainty food in
solid gold dishes, and wines in goblets of precious stones which they
placed on the platform before the prince and princess. As soon as the
royal pair began to eat, all the hosts around them followed their example,
and such a merry, jovial meal they had. The viands disappeared as fast as
they could go, laughter and talk sounded on all sides, and never a sign
did any of them give that they knew that a human being was watching them.
If they knew it, they showed not the slightest concern.
"Ah!" thought the old miser to himself. "I can't get all I'd like to, but
if I could reach up to the prince's table I could get enough at one grab
to set me up for life, and make me the richest man in St. Just parish!"
Stooping down, he slowly and stealthily dragged himself nearer and nearer
to the table. He felt quite sure that no one could see him. What he
himself did not see was that hundreds of wicked little Spriggans had tied
ropes on to him, and were holding fast to the ends. He crawled and
crawled so slowly and carefully that it took him some time to get over the
ground, but he managed it at last, and got quite close up to the lovely
little pair. Once there he paused for a moment and looked back,--perhaps
to see if the way was clear for him to run when he had done what he meant
to do. He was rather startled to find that all was as dark as dark could
be, and that he could see nothing at all behind him. However, he tried to
cheer himself by thinking that it was only that his eyes were dazzled by
looking at the bright lights so long. He was even more startled, though,
when he turned round to the Gump again, to find that every eye of all
those hundreds and thousands of fairies on the hill was looking straight
into his eyes.
At first he was really frightened, but as they did nothing but look, he
told himself that they could not really be gazing at him, and grew braver
with the thought. Then slowly bringing up his hat, as a boy does to catch
a butterfly, he was just going to bring it down on the silken platform and
capture prince and princess, table, gold dishes and all, when hark!
A shrill whistle sounded, the old man's hand, with the hat in it, was
paralysed in the air, so that he could not move it backwards or forwards,
and in an instant every light went out, and all was pitchy darkness.
There were a whir-r-r and a buzz, and a whir-r-r, as if a swarm of bees
were flying by him, and the old man felt himself fastened so securely to
the ground that, do what he would, he could not move an inch, and all the
time he felt himself being pinched, and pricked, and tweaked from top to
toe, so that not an inch of him was free from torment. He was lying on
his back at the foot of the Gump, though how he got there he could never
tell. His arms were stretched out and fastened down, so that he could not
do anything to drive off his tormentors, his legs were so secured that he
could not even relieve himself by kicking, and his tongue was tied with
cords, so that he could not call out.
There he lay, no one knows how long, for to him it seemed hours, and no
one else but the fairies knew anything about it. At last he felt a lot of
little feet running over him, but whose they were he had no idea until
something perched on his nose, and by the light of the moon he saw it was
a Spriggan. His wicked old heart sank when he realized that he had got
into their clutches, for all his life he had heard what wicked little
creatures they were.
The little imp on his nose kicked and danced and stamped about in great
delight at finding himself perched up so high. We all know how painful it
is to have one's nose knocked, even ever so little, so you may imagine
that the old miser did not enjoy himself at all. Master Spriggan did,
though. He roared with laughter, as though he were having a huge joke,
until at last, rising suddenly to his feet and standing on the tips of his
tiny toes, he shouted sharply, "Away! away! I smell the day!" and to the
old man's great relief off he flew in a great hurry, followed by all his
mischievous little companions who had been playing games, and running
races all over their victim's body.
Left at last to himself, the mortified old man lay for some time, thinking
over all that had happened, trying to collect his senses, and wondering
how he should manage to escape from his bonds, for he might lie there for
a week without any human being coming near the place.
Till sunrise he lay there, trying to think of some plan, and then, what do
you think he saw? Why, that he had not been tied down by ropes at all,
but only by thousands of gossamer webs! And there they were now, all over
him, with the dew on them sparkling like the diamonds that the princess
had worn the night before. And those dewdrop diamonds were all the jewels
he got for his night's work.
When he made this discovery he turned over and groaned and wept with rage
and shame, and never, to his dying day, could he bear to look at sparkling
gold or gems, for the mere sight of them made him feel quite ill.
At last, afraid lest he should be missed, and searchers be sent out to
look for him, he got up, brushed off the dewy webs, and putting on his
battered old hat, crept slowly home. He was wet through with dew, cold,
full of rheumatism, and very ashamed of himself, and very good care he
took to keep that night's experiences to himself. No one must know his
shame.
Years after, though, when he had become a changed man, and repented of his
former greediness, he let out the story bit by bit to be a lesson to
others, until his friends and neighbours, who loved to listen to anything
about fairies, had gathered it all as I have told it to you here. And you
may be quite sure it is all true, for the old man was not clever enough to
invent it.
THE FAIRY OINTMENT.
Now I will tell you a story of a very foolish woman, whose curiosity got
the better of her, and of how she was punished.
The old woman's Christian name was Joan. I will not tell her surname,
for it does not make any difference to the story, and there may be
some of her descendants left who would not like it to be known.
Joan was housekeeper to Squire Lovell. The name of his house shall be
kept a secret too, but I will tell you this much, that he lived a few
miles out of Penzance.
Now one Saturday afternoon it fell out that Joan wanted to go to Penzance
Market to get herself a pair of shoes, and to buy some groceries and
several Christmas things for the house, for it was Christmas Eve, and the
Squire had a lot of folks coming to supper that very night. So, the
weather being fine, Joan started off soon after her twelve o'clock dinner,
to walk into Penzance to market. Having, though, a great fancy for
company, and loving a little gossip, she thought she would step in on her
way to see if her friend Betty Trenance was going to market too.
It would be so nice to have each other's company on the way.
Now many persons in those parts told some very queer stories about Betty
Trenance, and amongst themselves some called her a witch, and were afraid
of her. Joan, though, argued that if she was a witch, there was all the
more reason for keeping friendly with her. And if one did not offend
Betty, she was always ready to give one a cup of tea, or do anything to
oblige one.
Betty lived down at Lamorna Cove, which was a little way out of Joan's
road, but she did not mind that if she could get Betty's company.
She walked quickly, though, for the days were short, and she had a long
way to go, and to be back in time to cook the Squire's supper.
On her way she met two of Betty's elder children carrying baskets of fish
on their backs, and down in the Cove she saw all the younger ones at play
with the limpets and crabs in the rock-pools, and paddling about in the
water. But she could not stay to watch them, for she had no time to
spare, so she hurried on to the cottage.
When she got there, though, to her astonishment she found the front door
was closed and fastened, not only latched either, but bolted! This was
such an unusual thing in those parts, that Joan was quite startled.
At first she thought something must really have gone amiss, then she
comforted herself by deciding that Betty had already started for the
market, and had locked the children out to keep them from ransacking the
place. Just, though, as she had settled all this in her mind, and was
about to turn away, the sound of voices reached her, and voices talking
very earnestly, too.
Joan looked round her nervously, the voices sounded quite near to her, but
there was no sight or sign of any living thing except some seagulls,
and Betty's old black cat.
What did it all mean? Joan was frightened, but her curiosity made her
stay and try to get to the bottom of the mystery. She stood quite still
and listened very closely. Yes, there were the voices again, plainly
enough, but where? She tiptoed close up to the door and placed her ear
against the keyhole. This time she heard Tom Trenance's voice quite
distinctly,--Tom was Betty's husband. He was talking very earnestly to
someone too, more earnestly than she had ever heard him speak in her life
before, but, try as she would, she could not make out to whom he was
speaking, nor what he was saying.
This was more than inquisitive Joan could endure. She must know what was
going on in that cottage, or she would know no peace day or night, for
thinking about it. So she made up her mind to knock and knock until those
inside were obliged to come to the door, but first of all she thought she
would have a peep in through the finger-hole by the latch. So she stooped
down and put her eye to the hole, and there she saw Tom sitting on the
settle, and after all it was only Betty that he was talking to.
Betty was standing beside him with a little box in her hand, from which
she took something that looked like ointment, which she smeared over her
husband's eyes, and all the time she did it she seemed to be mumbling some
verses or something that sounded like a charm. There seemed to be other
voices as well, though, and to Joan's great annoyance she could not see
from whence they came.
All this put old Joan in a fearful flutter. People had always told her
that Betty was a witch, and that Tom had the power of the evil eye, and
now she began to believe them. You would not have thought so to look at
him, for though they were very piercing, they were handsome hazel eyes,
clear and kind-looking,--unless he was angered, and _then_--
Completely mystified, and more inquisitive than ever, Joan went round to
the window by the chimney, to see if from there she could hear what they
were saying; but it was of no use. The door of the cottage was on the
landward side, and the windows of the cottage were to seaward, and round
the kitchen window was a great bush of honeysuckle and 'Traveller's Joy,'
which prevented anyone's getting quite close, and what with the sound of
the sea, the singing of the birds, and the shouting of the children below,
one might as well have been a mile off, for all one could hear!
Back tiptoed Joan again, and sat down on the bench outside the house to
think, but her curiosity would not let her keep still, so up she jumped
again, and peeped through the door once more. This time she saw that Tom
was standing up, preparing to come out; so not wanting to be caught
prying, she tapped at the door, and lifting the latch at the same time,
walked in as if she had but that moment arrived. She was so excited by
what she was doing that she did not notice that the door opened quite
easily now. She went in so quickly, too, that she was just in time to see
Betty push something under the dried ferns at the back of the chimney.
After saying "good day," and hearing what she had come for, Tom went out,
leaving them to make their plans by themselves, but Betty, though she
seemed pleased to see her friend, could not be persuaded to go to market
with her. She was very sorry, she said, but she was very bad, she had not
been well for days, and she still had a good day's work to get through
making ready for Christmas. She was not too busy, though, to make a cup
of tea, and Joan must stay and have one with her, and away she bustled to
the talfat,[1] where she had a special case of tea put away. This was
Joan's opportunity, and she seized it. As soon as Betty's back was
turned, she whipped the pot of ointment out from under the ferns, stuck
her finger in it, and popped the pot back again, in no time. But no
sooner had she touched her eye with the ointment than, oh! such a pain
shot through it, she very nearly shrieked aloud. It was as though a
red-hot knitting needle had been run right through her eyeball!
And, oh, the smarting and the burning that followed! To prevent a sound
escaping her she had to hug and squeeze herself with all her might, she
dared not open her lips to speak, and the tears poured down her cheeks
like rain.
It was lucky for her that Betty had some trouble in dragging the chest of
tea from under the bed, for if she had come back quickly she could not
have helped seeing what Joan had been doing. By the time she returned,
though, the worst of the pain was over, and keeping up her hand to that
side of her face, Joan managed to conceal the injured eye, and Betty was
too busy with her fire and her kettle to be very observant.
"I'm glad you came in to have a cup with me, and drink my health, it being
Christmas Eve and all," said Betty as they drew up to the table.
Then, having drunk each other's health, they had a third cup to drink the
health of the children, for, as Joan said, "there wasn't a healthier,
handsomer family in the whole parish." Then they drank the health of the
mermaids, for it is always wise to be civil to them, and after that Joan
rose to go.
Before she could go, though, she felt she must manage to open her injured
eye, which still watered and smarted a good deal. So she rubbed it and
blinked and winked until at last she managed to part the lids,--when, lo
and behold! to her amazement and alarm she saw that the house, which she
had thought empty save for herself and Betty, was simply thronged with
Little People!
There was not a spot that was free of them! They were climbing up the
dressers, hanging on to the beams, swinging on the fishing nets, hanging
across them, playing pranks on the clock, on the table, and the
mantelpiece, sliding down the saucepan handles, riding races on mice,--
they were everywhere, in fact, and up to every kind of game.
They were all very beautifully dressed. Most of the little men wore green
velvet, trimmed with scarlet, and their long green caps, which most of
them were waving frantically, had long scarlet feathers in them.
They all wore little red boots, too, and large silver spurs,--at least,
large for fairies.
The ladies were very consequential little people indeed, and swept about
in their long-trained gowns as though they were Court ladies at a
Drawing-room. On their little shoes they had diamond buckles, and their
great steeple-crowned hats were garlanded with beautiful flowers.
Such flowers as are seldom seen on Christmas Eve, but the Little People
have gardens under the sea where the flowers bloom in wonderful beauty all
the year round. Fishermen see them sometimes on moonlight nights, when
the water is clear and the wind calm, and if they listen closely they can
hear exquisite fairy music floating across the waters from bay to bay.
Back in the corner by Betty's wood heap were a lot of Spriggans, poor
depressed little creatures, dirty and sullen-looking. They were not
lively like the others, for you know they have to guard the Fairy
treasures all the year round, and they get no fun at all, as other fairies
do. So they are naturally not very lively.
While Joan was standing gazing, open-mouthed, bewildered by what she saw,
strains of the most beautiful music reached her ears, and gradually a
change began to come over the whole house. It was no wonder that she
thought her head was turned! The music came nearer and nearer, and
mingling with it was the tramp of hundreds of little feet; at last it came
quite close, and through the window marched a regiment of robins as
unconcernedly as a regiment of soldiers entering their barracks.
Quite gravely they stepped down from the window, marched across the room,
and flew up to the beam, where they perched themselves in perfect order,
and began to sing as hard as they possibly could. In a moment or two they
were followed through the window by a regiment of wrens, and then by a
regiment of Little People, all playing on every kind of musical instrument
ever invented, and on a number made out of reeds, and shells, such as had
never been seen before or since.
Stepping down gracefully from the window to the floor, the band, followed
by numbers of little ladies and gentlemen, carrying branches of herbs and
flowers, marched with stately tread past old Betty Trenance, bowed to her
in a most respectful manner in passing, then arranged themselves in
perfect order behind her. Last of all came another troop of fairies, and
these took the herbs and flowers brought by the little ladies and
gentlemen and placed them in Betty's apron.
"These are what she makes her salves and ointments of," thought Joan to
herself; "no wonder she is thought so clever."
This done, all the other fairies who had been playing about the house came
down to the floor and joined the new-comers. Such a crowd never was seen!
No sooner had the flowers and herbs been heaped in Betty's lap than
another troop of fairies came forward with fox-glove bells full of dyes,
which they poured over Betty's dress, when in a moment her russet gown was
changed to the softest white velvet, her apron to the filmiest lace,
edged all round with a delicate fringe of harebells and snowdrops.
Other fairies outlined the quilted 'diamonds' of her petticoat with silver
cord.
When her dress had been transformed in this way, all the troop of Little
People came forward with dainty bunches of flowers to complete her toilet,
sweet wild flowers they were, delicate speedwells and forget-me-nots with
their fresh green, and their innocent blue eyes; the warm scarlet
pimpernel, violets, snowdrops, heather bells, and ladies' white
petticoats. Some of each and every kind of flower we find in the lanes
and hedges. The little ladies stitched a small nosegay in each 'diamond'
of Betty's petticoat, and every nosegay was different. The tiniest
flowers of all they laid on sprays of feathery moss, others had background
of graceful ferns, or delicate grass. Around the hem of the skirt were
sprays of pink and white dog-roses, while the bodice was wreathed with
tiny pink and white convolvulus. Sparkling at Betty's throat were such
brilliant jewels that Joan had to look away, her eyes were so dazzled.
The strangest part of all this was that Betty did not seem in the least
surprised at what was going on, and was apparently quite unaware that Joan
was watching her.
As soon as the gown was completed, another group of the clever little
creatures clambered up to the top of the high-backed chair in which Betty
was seated, and began to arrange her hair. Some had quaint little pots in
their hands from which they poured delicate perfumes over Betty's head,--
Joan picked up one of the pots, which they threw aside when empty, and
found to her astonishment that it was only a poppy head. Then they
carefully arranged every curl and wave of Betty's hair, until she looked
as beautiful as a queen, and as dignified and stately, too; for Betty,
though a mischievous witch, was not at all like our ideas of one.
She was as clean as a new pin, and as neat and tidy as anyone could be.
Her features were unusually handsome, and her thick dark hair, which
reached the ground when she sat down, was full of the prettiest curls and
waves.
As soon as the last curl was arranged, and her tire-maidens satisfied,
they placed a spray of jessamine amongst her tresses, and jumped down,
their task completed.
All this time the music was playing the most bewitching melodies.
Very soon after this Joan began to have a feeling that Betty wished her
gone. The Little People, too, were making signs that she could not fail
to understand, and such hideous grimaces at her, too, that made her long
to box their ears. Of course, neither Betty nor the fairies knew that she
had used the Fairy Ointment, and could see them, and to save herself from
being found out, she bade her friend 'goodbye' with all speed.
When Joan got outside, though, she could not resist one more sly peep in,
just to make sure she had not been dreaming. So down went her eye to the
finger-hole again, but all she saw was the kitchen, with its sanded floor
and bright turf fire, the key-beam with the nets hanging across it, and
Betty stitching away as fast as her fingers could fly.
"This is the most extraordinary thing I ever heard tell of," said Joan to
herself. "I'll have another look."
Down went her eye again, but the right one this time, and, lo and behold!
there was the kitchen turned into a splendid banqueting hall, hung around
with tapestry representing everything that had ever happened in the world.
The talfat-rail was turned into a balcony hung with pale blue satin, where
sat a number of little ladies and gentlemen watching the dancing which was
going on below. The costumes of all were magnificent, the cottage was as
beautiful as a bit of Fairyland, and seated on a golden chair of state
under a velvet canopy was Betty Trenance looking as royal as a queen.
Betty, though, seemed to be keeping a sharp eye on the door, and as she
had a crowd of wicked little piskies about her, Joan thought it wise to
get away to safer quarters. So off she hurried, but as she went she met
numbers of fairies all hurrying away to Betty's cottage, while from the
rocks below came the doleful wail of the mermaids, and all was so uncanny
Joan was glad to hurry along as fast as she knew how. She was really
scared by this time, and the light was growing dim, for it was already
past three o'clock.
Once arrived at Penzance, Joan did her marketing quickly, but by the time
she had finished she was very tired and very hungry, for she had had
nothing to eat since twelve o'clock dinner, and had been trudging about
for hours. So, having a piece of saffron cake in her basket, she turned
into an inn in Market Jew Street, to get something to drink with it, and a
place to sit down for a while to rest.
When she got there she found the house so crowded that she had to sit on a
bench outside, and here she met a lot of friends, and had a thorough good
gossip. They drank each other's health too, and passed the compliments of
the season, until Joan remembered all of a sudden that she ought to have
been on her way home by that time, for the Squire would be very angry if
she were not there to see to things for the supper-party.
Up she jumped in a great flurry, and had said 'good-bye' all round when
she suddenly remembered that she had not yet bought several of the things
she had come to town on purpose to get. She was dreadfully vexed,
but there was no time to stay and think about it, she had just to hurry
back into the market and make her purchases as quickly as possible.