“Once upon a time, a long while ago, I stood upon a hill-top, watching
the rain clouds drifting past. Suddenly a raindrop fell into the palm
of my outstretched hand, and lay there looking at me! He was so clear
and cool, so bright-eyed and so fearless, that I said to him: ‘Tell me,
Raindrop, what is your story, and why do you fall?’
“And this is the tale he told:—
“‘When I was very young, and very, very tiny, I lay upon the bosom of
my mother, the Ocean. And many a time when I was inclined to be
fretful, because the wind ruffled my spray-like hair, she gently rocked
me off to sleep.
“‘Then came a day when the sun held out his hands and arms to me in
such a winning fashion, that before I knew what he was doing, he had
lifted me up and placed me in the downy folds of a fleecy cloud.
“‘At first I felt a little frightened, especially when I peeped down at
the great big moving world beneath.
“‘But very soon I perceived that there were quite a number of us being
carried by the cloud, and as we were all in the same boat, so to speak,
it was not long before we became quite friendly.
“‘As the days went by we often talked about the things over which we
passed, and many a time we wondered what some of them meant.
“‘Very strangely, perhaps, the higher we were taken into the air, the
better our eyesight became; until, like ocean birds, we could see right
down into the deepest deeps of the sea. It was, therefore, not at all
difficult for us to pick out all kinds of things not usually seen from
the surface of the water, or even from the top of a ship’s mast.
“‘One of the first and most alluring sights we thus saw, was a circular
bed of coral, all pink and glowing in the clear still depths of the
Pacific Ocean.
“‘Later on, when crossing the Caribbean Sea, we saw enormous masses of
coloured sea-weeds fantastically curling their hands and arms in a
never-ending variety of graceful movements. Almost immediately, there
came before our eyes dark old Spanish galleons, stuffed with stolen
gold, sunk by British merchant-ships, or maybe privateers, all their
crews still stark and stiff in the deep unmoving waters. Not far
removed was the gallant little ship in which Sir Richard Grenville and
his glorious crew fought, single-handed, a fleet of Spanish Buccaneers;
and, rather than yield, sank beside their guns. There they were, still
resolute of pose in spite of all the years that have gone since then,
and, seemingly, ready as ever to uphold the valour and the honour of
the British race.
“‘Anon came other sights and scenes. Southward over Africa we float,
peering at the Kraals, or houses, of African negroes; the patches where
they grow their mealies, and the wide open spaces where their cattle
roam. And, heavy now with our growing weight, the cloud just skims over
the tall tops of a far-flung forest, when, full in view upon a great
square of cleared land, we see a mighty host of stalwart Zulus being
marshalled by their Chief in readiness for war. Without the slightest
warning, they give vent to a most terrifying shout. Instantly a vast
number of our fellow-travellers, thoroughly startled, fall from the
cloud to the ground, and, as it suddenly rises again, we see them
running as hard as they can for the creeks and the river not far away.
“‘Turning northward, for days and days we seemed to do nothing but
drift and drift, the weather all the time becoming warmer and warmer.
Then, just as if an intervening screen had been pulled suddenly and
swiftly away, there below us lay the great Desert of Sahara. Far, far
down, a thin stream of camels, heavily laden, were wending their way in
the peculiar, tortuous, twisting fashion which is common to them. Upon
the camels’ backs were gaily-coloured coverings fringed and tasseled
with red and gold. On certain of the camels, in a kind of tent, rode a
number of dark-eyed ladies, dressed in the most gorgeous silks and
satins, their faces partly veiled, their little feet encased in dainty
slippers, but always their flashing teeth and shining eyes to show that
they were happy.
“‘All at once the scene is changed. A broad line of swiftly-moving
horses comes, as it were, from nowhere—grey horses, whose arching
necks, slim legs, and small round feet, show them to be Arab
thoroughbreds. Astride these horses there are dark-browed men in
cloak-like white burnooses, racing forward in such a way that it is
plainly their intention to surround, and, maybe, murder, those
connected with the camels.
“‘But not without a struggle will they be permitted to do as they
please, for as soon as they are seen, the camels are drawn into a
circle, and the dark-eyed ladies set within its very centre. Inside the
ring, behind their animals, who have been told to lie down, are
crouched the grim, alert, and silent merchants. In their hands are
their rifles, ready loaded. Everything is death-like in its stillness.
Even the thudding of the horses’ hoofs, at all times faint upon the
sand, is, by the gentle breeze blown in the opposite direction.
“‘Suddenly there comes a yell from the charging horsemen, and, at the
very same instant, a flash of guns from the merchants. But, alas! in
less time than it takes to describe it, the horsemen are victorious,
the merchants are dead or captive, the dark-eyed ladies tied with
silken cords, and the whole train—camels, horses and human beings—set
in motion towards the desert City, wherein those of the merchants who
are still alive will be turned into slaves, their goods and camels sold
to the highest bidders, and their ladies taken into the harems of the
Arabs rich enough to buy them.
“‘Northward still we go, until Mount Vesuvius is reached. Oh, what a
smoke and heat! I nearly dropped with suffocation! Indeed, I should
have fallen straight into the great red yawning crater, with its awful
fires, had it not been for the soft but strong hold by which the cloud
upheld me. Never again do I want to see that burning place. The very
memory of it, even now, causes me to tremble....
“‘Then, not far from Mount Vesuvius it seemed, we barely succeeded in
passing over such gigantic mountains that their tops are forever
covered in snow—white, cold and unutterably still. Yet, even as we
gazed, dumb-struck with the wonder of it all, there came the sun’s
great rays, and, magically, gloriously, turned the snow to gold—to
gleaming gold, mountains of gold!
“‘Southward and Eastward then we went! Over the burning plains of
India, past the Taj Mahal, that mighty monument to woman’s love and
virtue, and to the memory of a great Prince; southward to Ceylon, set
within the circling seas, and then, rapidly over the ocean back to
Australia, where, glad to see and smell the Eucalypts again, down I
fell to do them service!
“‘As to why I fall, it is because that is the only way in which I can
do my share of the things that must be done. My chief duty is to
nurture and refresh everything that grows; and as that can best be
accomplished by falling on or about them, therefore that is the thing I
do.’”
When this story was completed, there suddenly broke out such a hum of
conversation that it was quite a little time before the Prince was able
to announce that, by special request, the Official Recorder had
consented to give a contribution towards the evening’s entertainment.