the father of Daisy, and Edith, and Bailey, began his beautiful little
story, by saying that he had two very sociable sets of visitors in
his study early every morning. First the little folks jump out of
their beds, and run in to him in their slippers and nightgowns, just
as Laina the cook, with her kind dark face, comes along with the
tea-tray for him, and bread for the second set of visitors. The
children crumble the bread very joyfully and carefully, and the window
is quickly opened, (for it is winter, and snowing,) and the
bread-feast is spread out over the roof of the portico.
"Then the children cluster round the fire, and talk about the dogs and
the peacock and their lessons, keeping one eye upon the window, near
which the snow-white hemlocks are bowing in the wintry wind.
"Presently--'Hush! There they are!' and the little nightgowns flutter
softly to the window, and gaze lovingly at fifteen or twenty little
birds, in only their bare feet and feathers, who have come with the
first peep of dawn, and are made happy with a bountiful breakfast.
They were dear old birds, that had been before, and no doubt some
invited friends. Such a nice time as they all have! inside the window
and out; and the children are so delighted that they can soften the
winter for those poor little houseless ones out in the cold, who,
remembering the kindness of last year, came so trustingly again. It
was this confidence and love that was shown by the dear little birds,
that made the children so glad; and a rosier, happier troop of little
folk, could hardly be found than this early morning party in Idlewild
study."
"Oh! oh! how sweet! how lovely!" cried the children. "How we wish we
lived at Idlewild, or at any rate in the country, where we could feed
the little birds. We wish it would snow like every thing this very
minute."
Aunt Fanny laughed, and said she was delighted, the story had pleased
them so much, but was afraid she had not done it justice, as it had
been most beautifully told in the Home Journal; but she could not
remember the exact words.
[Illustration: THE WICKED WATER FAIRY.]
After tea that evening, the whole family went out in a large row-boat.
It was bright moonlight. A light breeze stole through the
tree-tops, making soft music; and it was so still and sweet on the
water, that everybody felt a thrill of delight.
Charley had been carried down to the water, and he sat in the bow of
the boat, leaning his head upon his mother's breast. He was in no
pain, and soothed by the measured and musical drip of the oars, he
closed his blue eyes and fell into a sweet sleep.
In a few moments he was awakened by a tap upon his arm; opening his
eyes, he beheld, close by him, seated upon the back of a flying-fish,
an ugly kelpie, or water-fairy, with a malevolent, evil aspect, who
regarded him with a look of hate.
"Come out of the boat! come out of the boat!" he said, in a baleful
whisper.
Spite of his terror and shrinking, Charley felt himself impelled to
lean over and look down into the moon-lit water.
Oh! what frightful forms he saw! Some riding on crabs, some on great
leeches, and more on the backs of flying-fishes, who took tremendous
leaps in the air, while their riders uttered frantic yells of delight.
[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF THE FAIRIES.]
The poor boy felt that some horrible but irresistible power was
dragging him down, down into the deep water, where these wicked imps
would bury him in some dark cave. He struggled to resist the impulse
to plunge, but it grew stronger and stronger, till, with a faint moan
of despair, he was just yielding to his hapless fate, when the sound
of distant fairy music broke upon his ear, and raising his head, he
beheld, riding swiftly down on the moonbeams, in all the pomp and
blazonry of military equipment, a band of armed fairy knights, with
Firefly at their head. On they came, with dash and hurry, and soon the
air was darkened with arrows and javelins hurled at the hateful
water-sprites.
Fast and sharp they came, and in a very few moments a still more
brilliant light gleamed from the eyes of the victorious army, as the
kelpies, after a short but furious resistance, sank yelling with rage
and disappointment beneath the wave, and the water became still and
glassy as before.
The agitated boy heard a tiny but hearty shout of triumph, and then
the brave little fairy soldiers, after kissing their hands and waving
their gossamer scarfs at Charley, turned and flew on their light and
winged steeds, towards the beautiful hollow from which the good Queen
had sent them, for she knew, by her fairy power, the danger her
beloved Charley was in.
The music, faint and sweet, lingered till the last lance had flashed
in the moonbeams, as it disappeared over the tall tree-tops, and then
it died insensibly away, so lingering were the delicious notes.
Then the wondering boy looking round, saw only the bright moon, the
still water, and the row-boat full of his brothers and sisters.
"Why, Charley," said his mother, kissing him, "you have had a nice
little sleep; haven't you?"
"Sleep? Oh no!" answered the bewildered child. "Did you see the
battle?"
"BATTLE!" screamed all the children. "Why, Charley, you must be
getting crazy!"
"Not at all," said Charley, very earnestly, "this time it really
happened;" and he told of the battle of the fairies, while the
children opened their eyes and mouths so wide with astonishment, that
their faces looked all holes; and they stared with all their might up
at the moonbeams and down into the water, in the hope that at least
some one fairy might have found it necessary to see Charley safe on
dry land; but I am sorry to have to relate that they were not
gratified with a sight, though their very eye-balls stuck out, so
intense and eager did they look, and so sure was Charley that he had
not been asleep.
_Had he been asleep?_
And now, for more than a month after this, Charley and the rest of the
children lived a most delightful life. They were up at drum-beat
every morning. They would not have missed a parade on any account
whatever, that is, all except Charley, and he enjoyed it almost as
much as the rest. They were so enthusiastic and glowing in their
descriptions. They even went to a stag-dance at night, and almost
killed themselves laughing at the cadets.
This stag-dance is performed on the green. A ring is formed, and a
tallow candle is stuck in a cut potato, and placed at intervals round
the circle; and within this not very brilliant illumination, the
cadets dance with each other to the excellent music of the band. Those
who personate ladies, take hold of their little bob-tailed jackets,
and prink and mince, and take fine airs upon themselves, and look so
precisely like fine ladies, that the real fine ladies looking at them,
want to give them a good shaking.
But the children went off into fits of laughter at the long and
quizzical shadows on the ground. When the cadets dance a figure, their
shadows look like a company of sickly, melancholy monkeys, which dodge
about in a distracting way, and look so irresistibly funny, that
everybody shouts with laughter--and it is a very merry spectacle.
Then this pleasant family had the most delightful tea parties in an
arbor at the back of the house. To be sure the ear-wigs and
daddy-long-legs, _would_ drop into their tea once in a while, making
them first squeal, and jump up, and then laugh, and a grasshopper or
two, _would_ hop suddenly on the cake, and hop more suddenly off,
before they could catch him; but what of that? Some people shriek so
if a grasshopper hops near them, you would think it was an elephant
come to pack them up in his trunk, for the rest of their lives; but
these children had more sense, and did not mind a little insect a
thousand times smaller than themselves.
* * * * *
And now I must come to a sad, sad part of my story--I dread to begin
it--and would gladly have told you a great deal more about the
fairies, and what they did for Charley; but Mr. Appleton says, you
would not like to have the same story go through two books, and this,
I am afraid, is already too long.
But I must relate one circumstance. Charley had retired to his little
bed one evening earlier than usual; dark, lowering clouds had sped
quickly over the sky, soon after he fell asleep. The tops of the high
trees, skirting the fairy hollow, waved restlessly to and fro, and the
angry growls of the thunder portended a violent storm. This night,
there was to have been a festival in the beautiful hollow.
As the fairies flew along in the troubled air, and the Queen tried
vainly to charm away the coming tempest, (for they were to carry
Charley to the hollow that night,) a dark form, like gathered mist,
went slowly past, her head bent, her arms folded.
And now, the lightnings came with a blinding glare, and the grand
booming of Heaven's artillery awoke the solemn echoes. Fast the
affrighted, shuddering fairies sped away, to hide under the fern
leaves, and in the tiny caves at the foot of the rocks. But the misty,
shadowy form still floated past, till it arrived at the open window of
Charley's room.
[Illustration: THE ANGEL OF DEATH.]
With noiseless motion it glided to the bed, bent over Charley, and
whispered in a soft, sweet voice, "Beloved one, you are taken away in
your early and lovely spring-time, because for you, to live, is to
suffer. You will go where there are no storms, no sorrows, no
sufferings; clasped in my arms, you will sleep, and be at rest
forever."
And Charley smiled lovingly upon the ANGEL OF DEATH, and his sleep
grew deeper, and calmer, and sweeter. But the next day, he told his
mother, and sisters, and brothers, of his mournful visitor, who had
passed out of the window into the veiling clouds, and disappeared. The
children burst into passionate weeping, and clasped him in their arms,
and refused to let him go. The little mother knew he had been
_dreaming as before_; but alas! she knew also only too well, that her
darling's time had come. He suffered no pain; but he became weaker and
weaker, and life was slowly but surely ebbing away. Consumption, that
fell disease, had nearly finished her baleful work, and his lamp of
life, flickering and dim, would soon pass away into the dark valley of
the shadow of death.
God knew best, and in His infinite wisdom saw fit to take Charley out
of this wearisome world, in which, if he had lived, he would suffer so
much.
But the child was so much beloved. _He was the sunlight of the house_;
and the pang of parting would be so cruel. They knew that they would
meet again in the place Jesus had prepared for them in His Father's
house--they knew _that_; but how could they help grieving now?
The good doctor came every day, and used his utmost skill, for he
dearly loved the sweet, patient child; but it was of no avail,
Charley's everlasting HOME was ready for him.
Slowly and sadly the poor children wandered around; for their sorrow
pressed like a weight upon them. They would come softly to his
bedside, smooth his golden hair, and kiss his forehead, and hope he
would yet get well; then seeing his pallid face, and little wasted
hands lying so still outside of the white bedspread, they would go
hastily away, and shed bitter, bitter tears; vainly struggling to
repress them, lest he should hear and be grieved.
The joyous little birds still sang in the trees; the majestic
Highlands still rose in the blue air; and the splendid sunset clouds
still covered their summits with a glory; the glittering water was
beautiful as ever. The drums beat to reveille, and crowds of gay
people walked about the parade-ground.
And Charley was dying.
Even now, the loving guardian angels were waiting on the other side of
the dark valley, to conduct this summer blossom to his heavenly home.
Myriads of little children were tuning their golden harps, to greet
his purified spirit with a hymn of joyful welcome, and Jesus was
saying, "Come."
And now, his last day on earth was passing--lovely and serene.
Charley's little bed had been moved in the afternoon, close to the
open window, where he could see the white sails gliding by on the
smooth silvery water. A peace from within, not of this world,
illuminated his sweet face. He had sent for all his brothers and
sisters, and with a faint voice, and at broken intervals, was talking
to them, and giving to each one some little trifle belonging to him;
and one by one, convulsed with sobs, they would rush from the
room--and after a painful struggle would return, with their tears
forced back; their loving gaze fastened upon him, whom in a few short
hours they would see no more.
When the good doctor entered, and saw that the end was so near, his
features worked painfully, and covering his face with his hands, in
another moment the great scalding tears trickled through. This brave
man, in the midst of battle, with the death strokes falling right and
left, and the great cannons booming destruction before him, had walked
without fear or flinching among the dead and wounded, giving help and
succor; but now, loving and tender-hearted as he was brave, he had
covered his face, and was weeping like a child.
"Tell the doctor not to cry," whispered the dying boy. "I am going
home to Jesus. I am going _now_," he said, with a gasping sigh. "Kiss
me, mother. Oh! how I thank you for all your love and kindness. I
thank you all; I bless you all. God bless you all;" and thus to the
end, grateful and loving, Charley spoke his last words.
For now his silken hair lay heavy and damp upon his snow-white
forehead; and as the solemn twilight deepened into shade, and the
first star broke like a promise in the sky, one little upward
fluttering sigh was heard, and they knew that this life was ended, and
Charley was winging his bright way to HEAVEN.
Not a word was spoken, not a sob broke the stillness. The moonbeams,
struggling into the room, disclosed the little mother on her knees by
the small white couch, her head buried in the white coverings. The
children sat sorrow-stricken, motionless, almost breathless, their
eyes fastened on the face of the dead child, in a despairing hope that
he might speak again; but not a breath stirred those still lips. The
good doctor, after a while, tenderly raised the heart-broken mother,
and led her away, and then sending for some kind neighbors, they
gently and lovingly prepared the remains of Charley for their last
quiet resting-place.
How lovely now looked what was left of the good and lovely boy. The
glistening golden curls pressed closely around the broad, open brow,
white as a lily, and a heaven-sent smile just parted the pale lips.
The leaves of a cluster of white roses curled around his little hands,
which were folded so tenderly above his stilled and quiet heart; and
every flower that he loved was placed with tears and kisses all about
him.
But oh! what a desolate cry arose in those children's hearts when the
little coffin was closed, and the sweet, peaceful face was seen no
more. Charley was in heaven--Charley was happy, but they wanted him,
_they wanted him_.
It seemed so cruel that the world should go on gay as ever, and their
Charley dead. They wondered, as they came on board the boat, which was
to carry what was left of their darling back to New York, they
wondered why every face was not tearful, when theirs was so full of
sorrow.
They made a little grave for him in the beautiful Greenwood Cemetery.
The soft moonlight sleeps lovingly upon it, and people tread lightly
as they approach and read the name of "LAME CHARLEY."
Slowly and sadly passed the rest of the summer, for the little mother
told no more stories. Once she tried, for she could not bear to see
the sad faces of her children; alas! that one vanished face, with its
sweet, grateful smile, and little tender ways, came before her, and
the story was lost in a flood of tears.
But late one lovely evening, as she was sitting by the open window,
thinking of her loved and lost one, some friend, unseen beneath, sang
these words, to a sweet and tender melody--
"Mildly, sweet summer moon,
Shine on this mother, weeping;
Whisper within her heart,
'He is not dead, but sleeping.'
"Softly, sweet summer stars,
Evermore vigil keeping,
Tell her, in steadfast tones,
'He is not dead, but sleeping.'
"Gently, sweet summer wind,
All things in perfume steeping;
Breathe in her sorrowing soul,
'He is not dead, but sleeping;
"'And safe in Jesus' arms,
His great reward is reaping.'
Up! mother, up! and cry,
'He is not dead, but sleeping.'"
A faint flush passed over the mother's pale cheek, for she knew that
some one who loved her, had thus tenderly warned her that her grief
was not endured as hopefully as it should be. She had not remembered
that her beloved Charley was only "gone before, not lost."
With an earnest, prayerful effort, she once more grew cheerful, and
with her cheerfulness came happiness to the children's hearts, though
they all their lives will remember their good, pure, and tenderly
beloved brother--whom you, dear little reader, also love, and know as
LAME CHARLEY.
Dear little readers, you and I have now followed Charley together
through six books, in which his life, and the lives of his brothers
and sisters, have been faithfully portrayed. If the good and pure life
of the little lame child, now happy in heaven, gives you _one_
steadfast resolution, to endeavor, from this time forth, to lead a
good and pure life, it will gladden the inmost heart of your loving
AUNT FANNY.
THE END.
Transcriber's Note:
Variations and inconsistencies in spelling, hyphenation, and
punctuation in the original text have been retained in this ebook.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Fairy Nightcaps, by Frances Elizabeth Barrow