AUSTRALIAN FAIRY TALES.
BY
ATHA WESTBURY.
ILLUSTRATED BY A. J. JOHNSON.
LONDON:
WARD, LOCK, & CO., LIMITED,
WARWICK HOUSE, SALISBURY SQUARE, E.C.
NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE.
1897
CONTENTS.
PAGE
GOLDEN CLOUD:—
CHAP. I. THE LONE ROCK 9
,, II. MOTHER DOT 19
,, III. DUSK’S STRONGHOLD 27
,, IV. THE RING-DOVE 34
,, V. GOLDEN CLOUD 42
TWILIGHT:—
CHAP. I. BARON THIMBLE 48
,, II. PRINCE PICNIC 57
,, III. LADY LOLLYPOP 65
TIM 73
THREE SPARROWS 82
KING DUNCE 91
“I DON’T KNOW” 98
THE BANK CAT 106
GUMTREE HOLLOW 115
WHISKERKISS:—
CHAP. I. THE MYSTERIOUS JOURNEY 123
,, II. PRINCESS GOLDEN HAIR 131
A CROOKED SIXPENCE 139
THE BALL IN THE DELL 148
ELSIE 155
THE WISHING-CAP 162
TWO GIANTS 176
MOTHLAND 184
MOONLAND 197
“SAILOR” 221
NELLIE 228
IN THE CLOUDS 243
WONDERLAND 251
BABY’S VISITORS 259
RUBYWINGS:—
CHAP. I. THE JOURNEY 264
,, II. SHADOWS 271
LIFE AND DEATH 277
GIANTS 283
THE KANGAROO HUNTER:—
CHAP. I. THE LOST DRESS 291
,, II. QUIZ 298
,, III. A SLEEPING BEAUTY 304
THE LAUGHING JACKASS:—
CHAP. I. LOST IN THE BUSH 312
,, II. EMU ROYAL 319
HOP-O’-MY-THUMB 325
A MAGIC WHISTLE 334
“COCKY”:—
CHAP. I. THE MAGIC HUT 342
,, II. BROWN EYES 350
LIST OF FULL-PAGE AND OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS.
“THE GLOBE SLOWLY SPLIT IN TWAIN” Frontispiece
PAGE
“OUR HERO WENT SPRAWLING HEADLONG OVER HIM” 20
“AT THE SIGHT OF HER THE ASS BEGAN TO BRAY LOUDLY” 37
“‘SHAVE, OR HAIR CUT, SIR?’ ASKED THE BARBER” 51
“A TALL, HANDSOME YOUNG MAN, ROBED IN A SUPERB HUNTING
COSTUME” 71
“GET UP, TOBY THE GROWLER, AND FOLLOW ME” 83
“SPEEDING AWAY ACROSS THE COUNTRY AS SWIFT AS THE WIND” 93
“A JACK-IN-THE-BOX ... CAME AND REVILED HIM” 102
“‘HURRAH!’ HE CRIED, TOSSING UP HIS HAT” 119
“SEATED BENEATH A CANOPY OF ROSES” 134
“‘PRAY TAKE OUT THOSE HORRID LONG SPIKES’” 157
“THE FAIRIES FLED IN GREAT HASTE” 165
“BOTH HE AND THE DOG WERE ENVELOPED IN A DEEP MIST” 180
“HE WAS BORNE ALONG SO SWIFTLY THAT HE NEARLY LOST HIS
SENSES” 199
“HE WAS NOT CERTAIN WHETHER THE MONSTER WAS LEAPING OR
FLYING” 209
“‘WHY, SURELY, YOU’RE NOT THE MAN IN THE MOON?’” 219
“THE LOVELY BEING TOOK NELLIE BY THE HAND” 233
“IT WAS A GRAND BALLOON” 245
“THE MONSTER ... ADVANCED WITH A LARGE STONE” 255
“THE OLD MAN BENT LOW BEFORE THE ICE MONARCH” 266
“‘I AM QUEEN OF THE BUTTERFLIES,’ SHE REPLIED” 268
“‘WHAT KIND OF BIRD ARE YOU?’” 295
“‘YOU CAN’T BE OUR JACK?’” 315
“‘THOU ART VERY STRONG FOR SO SMALL A MAN’” 329
“ITS EYES WERE DREADFUL TOP BEHOLD, AS IT CAME SLOWLY OUT
OF THE WATER.” 352
AUSTRALIAN FAIRY TALES.
GOLDEN CLOUD.
A CHRISTMAS STORY FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
CHAPTER I.
THE LONE ROCK.
Australia! Hast thou no enchanted castles within thy vast domain? Is
there not one gallant youth, ready armed to do battle for the fair
ones, sleeping ’neath the spell of wicked genii?
Come, youngsters, draw up your chairs. Come, mothers, ye who live your
romantic girlhood o’er again in that of your children. Form up,
gentlemen, fathers, hard men of the world, whose brows are wrinkled
with care and worry, take rank in rear of your fair helpmates.
Merchant, lock thy safe, close thy ledgers; horny-handed sons of toil,
throw aside your implements of trade; gather near. I am going to draw
aside the magic curtain which hides the great continent, marked on our
map UNKNOWN. Turn down the lights—our magic lantern is quite ready. Hey
presto! Look!
Why, what is this? The heart of a deep mine! A gold mine, with all its
dim and rugged corridors, its tunnels and windings, lighted only by a
dull taper here and there. There is no one at work, for it is Christmas
Eve. Yet the underground region is not altogether untenanted. One man
whose duty it is to watch the place, until relieved on the morrow, lies
coiled up asleep in one of the long drives. He is a young man, not
tall, but strongly made, and with limbs like another Hercules. On
account of his great strength and a certain good temper combined, his
mates call him, Samson the Nugget.
For what length of time the Nugget slumbered on this good Christmas Eve
will never be known. Certain it is that he suddenly opened his eyes and
beheld one of the biggest, and withal one of the ugliest, hulking
fellows he had ever seen standing over him. The Nugget was a brave
youth, but fear began to take possession of him as he looked at the
intruder—a giant in stature, with a huge, flat head upon his shoulder,
and a mouth as large, and about the shape of the newspaper receiver at
the General Post Office. He carried a lamp in his hand, but there was a
queer sheen from his eyes, which illumined the cavern with a fiery
glow. His dress was a brown russet, his hat, sugar-loaf in shape, and
he carried a sapling for a cudgel.
“Get up, Samson the Nugget, and follow me,” said he in a brief, gruff
tone.
“Who are you?” cried our hero, rising to his feet, and seizing a heavy
iron drill.
“I am the strongest man in Golden Cloud, and my name is Grapple,”
rejoined the other grimly. “Will you come?”
“Where?” said the Nugget. “There is no way out of this mine except by
the cage up the shaft.”
“That’s all you know about it,” returned Grapple, with a grim laugh.
“If I find a way, have you courage to follow?”
The Nugget felt inclined to refuse point blank, but curiosity being
strong within him, he bowed an assent.
Grapple, without a word, turned on his heel and led the way further
down the dark recesses of the tunnel. Our hero followed. Of one thing
the miner felt certain—that the end of the drive would effectually bar
the progress of his unwelcome visitor. Strange to relate, such was not
the case.
The narrow passage appeared to extend and widen out before their
advance, until it took the shape of a long railway tunnel, from which
the pair emerged at length into the bright beams of day. The transit
from what seemed to be the bowels of a high mountain range to a
landscape fairer and more beautiful than our hero had ever seen, filled
his mind with wonder. His companion, now that daylight was upon him,
did not seem such an ugly customer after all. He was certainly a huge,
grotesque-looking personage, but there wasn’t a bit of malice in
anything he said or did.
Our hero’s amazement was so great, that it was some considerable time
before he found words wherewith to address his companion.
“What country is this?” he asked, turning to Grapple.
“This is Golden Cloud.”
“Golden Cloud! I never heard of such a place. Why did you bring me
here?”
“Because I wanted a companion on my travels,” rejoined the other. “I
heard you were a very strong man, and I determined to fetch you out of
that dismal mine, so that you might enjoy your Christmas holidays with
me.”
“Oh, indeed! very considerate on your part, my friend, but what if I
return to the mine?” said the Nugget.
“You can’t—not without my aid,” responded Grapple. “Now don’t be a
fool. I’m going on a sort of excursion into the interior, and I want a
companion. We shall not be long away, and I promise to lead you safely
back to the place from whence you came as soon as we return.”
The Nugget reflected. He felt a strong desire to see something of this
most charming country. Besides, he saw that this strange creature had
uttered the truth. He could not possibly find his way back to the mine
alone.
Here it must be remarked that, although our hero was only a miner, he
possessed both intelligence and culture, not usually found in men of
his class. He had read much, and had a longing for the romantic, and in
short, in less time than it takes to write this sentence, Samson the
Nugget had resolved to go on a holiday tour with his quaint companion.
It is needless to describe their journey for the first two days;
suffice it that the route lay through the tangled maze of a pathless
forest of noble trees, where branches intertwining overhead formed a
leafy canopy for many miles. On the third day Grapple and his companion
emerged upon a wide, extensive plain. Towering in the distance, like a
pyramid, they observed a gigantic rock standing out above the level
expanse around. The sun, gleaming upon its peaks and spires, gave it a
weird, fantastic look, as if some great magician of the olden time had
bade it rise with the lifting of his wand. As far as the vision reached
along the line of the horizon, the plain seemed ringed in by the
magnificent bushland through which they had come. Nearer, however,
there was a broad river flowing its slow way round the lone cliff; the
sheen of its waves forming a massive girdle, which flashed back the
sun’s rays a thousandfold.
The evening was drawing nigh as the Nugget and Grapple approached the
lofty crag, and they determined to pass the night beneath its
sheltering base. For this purpose they crossed a ford on the river, and
ascended a wide slope of rich, green sward, softer than velvet, and
entered an enclosed space, which had evidently been a most lovely
garden at one time. To the gaze of our hero it appeared nothing but a
mass of weeds and ragged, bare shrubs, under which a whole multitude of
kangaroos, emus, wallabies, wild goats, and native bears were gathered
in wild confusion.
The Nugget was filled with amazement as he beheld these animals. Their
number was countless, and the tameness with which they submitted to be
fondled was more extraordinary still. Indeed, they never moved as the
two men strode through their ranks, no more than if they had been so
many posts wanting life and movement. The astonishment of our hero was
in no way diminished as they reached the western face of the supposed
rock. Here they saw a broad flight of steps leading towards a ponderous
gateway. The gate stood wide open, and on either side, mounted on
pillars of granite, were the carved figures of two gigantic black
fellows, each leaning on a spear. Grapple and his companion entered the
portal, and found themselves in a lofty corridor, supported by massive
columns of polished masonry. To the right and left of them, as they
advanced, splendid apartments, vast in their dimensions, and
upholstered with costly furniture, met their gaze. It was not the
magnitude of the place, nor the fine things therein, which filled them
with such speechless amazement, but the wonderful statuary they saw.
These figures were in every room, and were so life-like in their
dimensions and appearance, that the Nugget was fain to believe that
they were flesh and blood. Ladies and gentlemen were represented quite
naturally, and in various places and functions. Yonder a group were
seated round the banquet in the act of eating. There another group,
mostly ladies, gossipping and laughing. Some had been chiselled
walking, some kneeling, others hissing, many reading. The same view met
the travellers from one end of this strange mansion to the other.
Nothing could seem more substantial, more real, than these beautiful
models, attired as they were in robes of gorgeous hue and texture, but
foreign and altogether unfamiliar to our hero, who often touched them
with his hand. Twenty times he addressed them, but not one answered.
They were only images, nothing more. Body, limbs, robes—all were cold
and hard as stone to the touch.
Their curiosity appeased, our hero and his companion selected a small
but comfortable apartment wherein to pass the night. They had killed a
kangaroo the previous day, from the remains of which they dined; then
they retired, and both were soon fast asleep.
The Nugget had scarcely closed his eyes, however, ere he was roused by
the application of a hard whack on the drum of his left ear.
Now it chanced that Grapple lay on that side of the Nugget and judging
hastily, as people are apt to do under similar conditions, our hero
sprang up, and began to pound his bedfellow soundly.
“Hold! stop! What is this all about?” cried poor Grapple.
“Did you not give me a blow?” demanded the Nugget fiercely.
“I? Certainly not.”
“Oh, indeed! I suppose the man in the moon did it. There are only two
of us here, sir,” cried the Nugget.
“I’ll swear I did not do it. Your blows awakened me.”
“Humph! It is very strange,” cried they, and they grumbled at each
other until they fell asleep again.
Not long did the pair enjoy repose. This time Grapple started up with a
yell of agony.
“Coward!” he cried, and without further warning he fell upon the Nugget
and tried to choke him. We have said that Samson was a powerful fellow.
Exerting the full force of his muscles, he overpowered his adversary,
and briefly demanded an explanation.
“Wretched, false friend! what have I done that you should stab me with
your knife?” cried Grapple, with a groan.
The young miner burst out in a hearty guffaw.
“Look here, my friend,” he replied quickly, “I think both of us have
been the dupes of some rascally enemies hereabout. I receive a thump on
the ear, you a wound in the leg, when both of us are sound asleep. Mum!
Let us to slumber again. Daylight will be here anon; in the meantime, I
will keep watch to discover our lurking foe.”
Grapple assented. Having bound up his leg the travellers lay down again
as if nothing had happened.
The Nugget, however, slept like a cat, otherwise he would not have seen
the most withered, and, at the same time, most repulsive-looking
individual in the world stealing noiselessly out on tip-toe from behind
one of the statues in the corridor. The day was breaking, and every
object could be clearly distinguished. Watching the intruder, our hero
saw he was a dwarf, and a very ugly one. The body of the wee monster
was like an ale keg, from which protruded short, sturdy limbs. His
hands were dreadfully large, the skin knobbed and gnarled like the bark
of a tree. A head, the counterpart of a Christmas pudding with a slice
cut out for a mouth, a parsnip for a nose, and a pair of agates for
eyes, and you have a rough photograph of the wretch that now advanced
as stealthily as a shadow toward our hero and his companion.
As he drew near the prostrate pair he stooped over the Nugget to
inflict a blow on his head. Our hero bounded up and tried to catch his
foe. Vain effort. With the agility and quickness of a professional
wrestler, the dwarf upset the astonished digger as if he had been no
more than a schoolboy; then, fleeing along the corridor, he cleared the
steps of the gate at one bound and ran swiftly across the garden
towards the river.