CHRISTMAS DAY.--RHYMES.--CENTO.--GENTEEL LADY.--THE FAIRY WOOD.
Sound were the slumbers that night at the Grange, notwithstanding the
determination of little Amy to lie awake and catch Kriss-Kinkle for
once; although as she said, "I know it _must_ be Cousin Mary." Those
happy days of innocence and unsuspecting faith have passed away, when
children believed in a literal Kriss-Kinkle, clad in furs, and laden
with presents for the good, and sticks of wood for the naughty little
urchins who refuse to learn their A, B, C's, and to stand still while
mamma combs out their hair. The "infantry" of America have quite given
up their old-fashioned credulity, and as, according to the obsolete
saying of the older philosophers, "nature abhors a vacuum," and there
must be some children in the world, to keep the balance, the
spirit-rappers have kindly stepped into their vacant places, and may be
regarded as the true and only children on this side the Atlantic. The
frightful skepticism of the young ones with regard to Kriss-Kinkle has
come to such a pass, that a little girl of three years old, who had been
kept, as her relations thought, in all the verdure becoming to her
tender years, upon her aunt telling her that she ought not to expect
many gifts that season, as it was such stormy weather that poor
Kriss-Kinkle could scarcely venture out, replied: "But, Aunty! could he
not take grandma's carriage--he would not get wet then!"
If the merry old soul really came down the chimney at the Grange, he
shewed great discernment in the gifts he bestowed, for each found in
the stocking some article that had been ardently desired. Ellen, who was
deeply interested in the study of Italian, found a beautiful copy of
Dante's "Divina Commedia;" Mary, who possessed a fine talent for
drawing, and frequently sketched from nature, discovered that a complete
set of artist's colors and brushes had fallen to her lot; George, who
was devoted to skating, found a pair of skates, "real beauties," as he
said, appended to his stocking; all plainly saw that their individual
tastes and peculiarities had been consulted in a very gratifying manner.
Of course they did not neglect to express their pleasure and gratitude
to their kind friends, requesting them to inform that very worthy old
gentleman, Mr. Kriss-Kinkle, of their delight at his selection. Nor were
Uncle John and Aunt Lucy forgotten: their nephews and nieces had all
provided some little gifts, as expressions of love. Mrs. Wyndham
declared that she was quite set up in crochet bags and purses, for a
year to come; and tastefully worked book-markers, with appropriate
sentiments, were very plentiful. Tom Green made himself exceedingly
agreeable to the whole party, by presenting to each some pretty little
box, thimble-case, or other ingenious trifle, which he had made at his
leisure with the aid of his turning-lathe; whereupon Charlie Bolton
assumed an irresistibly ludicrous air of dejection, and asserted that he
felt quite crushed by Tom's superior gallantry. "Really, a fellow is not
much thought of now-a-days, unless he can do something in the pretty
line. I must get a turning-lathe at once, or else learn to carve
brooches out of marbles, and rings out of peach-stones, and baskets out
of cherry and apricot stones. If I can't get up that much artistic
talent, I might as well resign myself to complete insignificance all my
life." Cornelia Wyndham highly approved of his intentions, and told him
that when he had come to perfection in the fancy business, she hoped he
would remember her devoted and perfectly disinterested friendship; her
cousinly affection was of the warmest and truest quality, especially
when there were any hopes of cherry-stone baskets.
Full of enjoyment as they were, none were too intent upon fun and frolic
to neglect accompanying their kind relatives to the pretty little
country church, for it was their uncle's habit to begin the day with
religious exercises: he said it seemed to him ungrateful to spend it in
unbroken jollity, and to forget entirely the original motive of its
institution. It was a very pleasant custom, and very conducive to mutual
attachment, for friends and relations to give and to receive presents:
but this should be subordinate to the remembrance of God's Great Gift to
the children of men, which was celebrated on that happy day. So the
young people passed a unanimous vote that church-going was as regular a
part of keeping Christmas as presents or mince-pie, and gladly set off
to walk through the frosty air to the ivy-covered church, shaded by
ancient trees. It was situated on a hill, and was approached by numerous
paths running across the fields; and as Ellen gazed upon its spire,
standing in relief against the deep blue sky, she thought of that
beautiful line of Wordsworth,
"Pointing its taper finger up to heaven!"
The chime of bells, too, joyfully pealing out, appeared to be the voice
of the church calling upon all who heard it, to return thanks to Him who
blesses the families of men; it seemed to say, "Both young men and
maidens, old men and children, let them praise the name of the Lord."
What a mistake it is, to think of religion only as a refuge from sorrow,
and a solace for the disappointments of the world! It is that, truly,
but it is also the sanctifier of joy: the happy young heart should be
laid upon God's altar, as well as the stricken spirit, and the eye
moistened with tears. That the services of the church had not a
depressing effect upon the minds of any, was very evident from the
heart-felt greetings and warm shakes of the hand which were exchanged by
all, as they left the house of prayer. It was a very pleasant sight to
behold young and old, rich and poor, joined together in one common
feeling of brotherhood, under the genial influences of the season. "A
merry Christmas" seemed not only to spring from every tongue, but to
sparkle in every eye.
If I were to attempt to describe the varied pleasures of that day, which
was declared by Charlie Bolton to be the most glorious one he had ever
spent, I should be obliged to dip my pen, not in ink, but in a solution
of rainbow, or dancing sun-beams, or in any thing else that is proved to
be the most joyful thing in nature. At dinner-table, after being helped
the second time to a slice of "splendid" turkey with oyster sauce,
little Louis Green, the youngest of the party, occasioned a general
burst of laughter by laying down his knife and fork, which certainly
deserved a little rest if activity ever can earn it, and leaning back in
his chair, saying with the greatest earnestness: "Uncle, if I were asked
to point out the very happiest time of the whole year, I would fix upon
Christmas day, at exactly this hour--the dinner hour--as the thing for
me!"
"O you gormandizer!" said his sister Ellen, "you don't really think the
dinner the best part of the day?"
"Indeed I do, though," replied Louis; "and I rather guess a good many
people are of the same opinion. And, sister Ellen, if you were a boy,
and just come home from boarding-school, where they always want you to
eat potatoes, I think you'd value turkey and mince-pie as much as I do!
Hurra for Christmas, I say!"
There was some conversation at the dinner-table about the origin of the
different modes of keeping Christmas day in our country. Mr. Wyndham
remarked, that probably the reason why it was so universally kept in
Philadelphia, was from the large mixture of the German element in the
population of Pennsylvania: perhaps the little Swedish colony which Penn
found already settled on the ground when he came over, may have had some
influence, as the nations in the middle and north of Europe have always
celebrated the day, making it a sort of festival of home, and fireside
pleasures. He said that when he was a young man he had passed a winter
in Germany, and was spending some time in the house of a friend, in the
month of December: being very intimate with all the family, he had been
admitted into numerous little secrets, both by young and old. He had
seen beforehand the drawings and the ornamental needle-work which were
intended as a surprise to the parents, and were executed after they had
retired to rest; and he had been allowed to hear the new songs and
pieces of instrumental music, learnt by stealth during their absence
from home; and had even been privileged to hear the little boy of eight,
the pet of the family, recite the verses composed in honor of the joyful
occasion, by his oldest sister. And the parents, also, had their own
mysteries: for a fortnight before the eventful day, the blooming,
comfortable mamma rode out regularly, and returned laden with bundles,
which were immediately transferred to a certain large parlor, the
windows of which were carefully bolted, the door locked, and the very
key-hole stopped up, so that nothing was visible. The children were sent
out of the way, and then there were raps at the door, and the carrying
of heavy articles along the hall, into the mysterious chamber--Blue
Beard's room of horrors was not more eagerly gazed at, than was this
parlor, but its blank walls told no secrets.
At length the long-expected day arrived; on Christmas Eve all were
assembled in a dark room adjacent--you see I have taken a few hints from
my German friends--and at last the doors being thrown open, the mystery
was revealed. The room was ornamented with evergreens and colored lamps,
very much in the style of our hall, and a large tree blazed with light
and sparkled with candied fruits and gilded cornucopias; I made up my
mind then, that if ever I had a house of my own, I would keep Christmas
Eve in the same way. The little children stood a while, awe-struck by
the grandeur of the spectacle: for I can tell you, young people, that
the German children are kept in a state of innocence--what you would
call _greenness_--that would amaze you. The good mother then came
forward, and took them by the hand: "Come in, Carl; come in, Hermann;
fear nothing, little Ida; come in and see if there is any thing here for
you." Encouraged by this invitation, all entered, and the room was found
to be lined with tables, piled with articles both for use and pleasure;
there was a separate table for every one in the house, including the
servants, who in Germany live many years in one family, and even for the
baby. Their guest also was not forgotten; I found upon my table a pair
of slippers, and sundry other gifts, some of which I still keep with
care, as a memorial of that very happy evening.
"That must have been really charming! I think the mystery adds very much
to the pleasure," said Alice. "And, uncle, is not the custom of hanging
up the stocking derived from Germany?"
"I think it is. In Holland there is a little variation, for there the
_shoe_ is placed at the door of the chamber, for adults as well as
children enter into the sport. I heard an amusing story connected with
this practice, when I was in Holland; if you like, I will relate it; the
event is said really to have happened."
"Do tell it, uncle!" said John Wyndham. "I like true stories."
"There was a poor, but very handsome and excellent young minister, a
licentiate, I think they call it, when a young man is not yet settled in
a church; to support himself until he was appointed to a congregation,
he took the place of tutor in a rich burgomaster's family, where he fell
in love with the pretty, amiable, and mischievous daughter. She fully
reciprocated his feelings, and as her parents approved of the match, she
gave the bashful young man all the encouragement she could: she felt
very sure as to the nature of his sentiments towards her, but
notwithstanding all she could do, the young man _would not propose_--as
she rightly concluded, the thought of her superior wealth deterred him;
and meantime the foolish fellow became pale and melancholy, as if he
seriously meditated going into a decline. So the merry maiden thought,
'This will never do; I must take strong measures, or the poor soul will
mope himself to death.' Christmas Eve came round, and the assembled
family were joking about the presents they expected. 'Put your slippers
outside your door to-night, Dominie,' said the father, calling him by
the title commonly applied to clergymen in Holland, and among the
descendants of the Dutch in the State of New York, 'I have no doubt your
friend Caterina has something to put in them.' 'Oh, it is not worth
while--no one cares for me, sir.' 'But, indeed, we do,' replied little
Caterina; 'I have something for you, but I am not at all sure you will
condescend to accept it. 'Have you indeed, Miss Caterina? I shall feel
highly honored; I give you my word that whatever it is, I will accept it
joyfully.' 'Very well: only please to remember this, when you see what
is in your slippers.'
"The next morning, when the young Dominie opened his door, full of
eagerness to see what was in store for him, lo and behold! his slippers
had vanished. 'I might have known that the light-hearted, mischievous
maiden was only laughing at me--and well I deserve it--fool that I am to
dream about one so much above me!' Thus trying to scold himself into
stoicism, the young man went over to the breakfast-table, where all were
gathered together except Caterina. 'A very merry Christmas! but my dear
Dominie, how sober you look!' 'Do I, indeed? that is very improper; but
I've been thinking of going away--I had better do so--that makes me look
rather sad, perhaps; I've spent so many happy hours among you all.'
'Going away! oh, no, you are not to think of that; I cannot allow such a
word. By the way, what have you found in your slippers?' 'To reprove my
presumption, no doubt, my slippers have been spirited away in the night:
it is not for a poor fellow like me to receive gifts from lovely young
ladies.' As he spoke these words, the door opened, and Caterina entered,
bright as the morning, her face covered with smiles and blushes; she
shuffled along in a strange way, and all eyes naturally fell upon her
little feet, which were sailing about in the Dominie's slippers! Amid
the general laughter, she walked up to the diffident youth, who could
scarcely believe his eyes, and said with an air of irresistible
drollery, by which she tried to cover her confusion: 'Here is your
Christmas present, sir; do you hold to your promise of accepting it?' Of
course, the lady having broken the ice, the Dominie could do no less
than speak out, and, all being willing, the two were soon converted into
one; a good church was procured for him by the influence of the
burgomaster, and they lived as happily as possible all their days."
"She was a determined damsel!" cried Cornelia; "I think she had brass
enough to set up a foundry."
"Probably it was leap-year, Cornelia," replied Ellen; "you know it is
then the ladies' _privilege_--great privilege, forsooth!--to pay
attention to the lords of the creation."
"I hope, when women take advantage of their prescriptive rights, they
will wear the Bloomer costume, and make themselves look as little like
the rest of their sex as possible!" said Mary.
"Come, girls," cried Charlie Bolton, "you are too hard on that frank
little Caterina; I approve of such conduct entirely, and some ten years
hence, when I am ready to be appropriated, I shall certainly leave my
slippers outside my door as a hint to whomsoever it may concern. It
would save us men a great deal of trouble, if all girls were as sensible
as Caterina."
"Us men, indeed! How long since?" said Cornelia.
"Ever since I got out of frocks and into trowsers," replied Charlie,
laughing good-naturedly. He and Cornelia were always sparring, but never
quarrelled.
In the evening they played at various games; among others, at writing
rhymes. Each had a slip of paper, and would write a line, then double it
down, and hand it to the next, telling the last word; the second person
then added a line rhyming with the first, the third started a fresh
rhyme, and so it went on. When read, it of course made the greatest
farrago of nonsense imaginable. Ellen then proposed "Cento," a Spanish
or Italian game, which requires great readiness of memory, and a large
acquaintance with poetry. One person quotes a well-known line, the next
another that rhymes with it, and so on, making some sort of connection
whenever it can be done; but after trying it, and finding that only
three or four of the eldest could think of appropriate passages, they
voted Cento _a bore_, Cornelia remarking that there was great stupidity
somewhere; of course they could not think it was in themselves, and
therefore it must be in the game.
Mary said that there was another game requiring a good memory, but the
advantage of it was, that the more you forgot the more merriment you
made; if you were not witty yourself, you were the cause of wit in
others. It was called _Genteel Lady_, and was played by one person
politely bowing to his neighbor, and reciting a certain formula, which
must be repeated, with an addition, by the next, and so round the
circle; whenever the least mistake or omission was made, the person had
to drop the title of Genteel Lady, or Genteel Gentleman, and putting a
horn of twisted paper in the hair or button-hole, could now glory in the
dignity of being a One-horned Lady or Gentleman. Very soon horns become
so plenty that few can claim any gentility; as the description proceeds,
and becomes more complicated, it is perfectly laughable, and the whole
party look ludicrous enough.
"Here is a whole bundle of lamp-lighters," said Cornelia; "let us begin
the game, I think it must be comical."
Mary bowed to Tom Green, and commenced. "Good evening, genteel
gentleman, ever genteel, I, a genteel lady, ever genteel, come from that
genteel lady, ever genteel, to tell you that she owns a little dog with
hair on its back."
Tom bowed to Ellen: "Good evening, genteel lady, ever genteel, I, a
genteel gentleman, ever genteel, come from that genteel lady, ever
genteel (bowing to Mary), to tell you that she owns a little dog with
hair on its back, and a red tongue in its mouth."
Ellen took up the play: "Good evening, genteel gentleman, ever genteel,
I, a genteel lady, ever genteel, come from that genteel gentleman, ever
genteel, to tell you that he owns a little dog with hair on its back, a
red tongue in its mouth, and two ears on its head."
It was now Charlie Bolton's turn: "Good evening, genteel lady, ever
genteel, I, a genteel gentleman, _ever_ genteel, come from that genteel
lady, ever genteel, to say that she owns a little dog with ears on its
back, a tongue in its head, hair in its mouth, and a bone between its
teeth."
"Charlie! Charlie! three horns!"
"All honorable horns! hurra! I'm the only one with horns!"
"You'll soon have companions in misfortune," said Mary, laughing.
"Good morning, genteel lady, ever genteel," said Gertrude, bowing to
Alice, "I, a genteel lady, ever genteel, come from that three-horned
gentleman, ever three-horned, to say that he owns a little dog with hair
on its back, a red tongue in its mouth, two ears on its head, a bone
between its teeth, and a tail a yard long."
"Good morning, she said! that's one horn!" cried the other children.
"Good evening, genteel gentleman, ever genteel," said Alice, reverently
bowing to John Wyndham, "I, a genteel lady, ever genteel, come from that
one-horned lady, ever one-horned, to say that she owns a little dog with
hair on its back, a red tongue in its mouth, a bone between its teeth, a
fell a yard long, and three legs and a half."
"You left out two ears on its head! a horn!"
"I'm resigned," said Alice, "gentility seems to be at a discount."
So the game went on, becoming every moment more difficult and more
ludicrous--as Charlie called it, more _trippy_--and by the time it went
round the second time, none escaped the horns. Any thing will do for the
genteel lady to own, and it makes it more agreeable to vary it each time
it is played: for instance, an eagle with a golden beak, silver claws,
diamond eyes, ostrich feathers, bird-of-paradise tail, a crown on its
head, a diamond ring on its thumb, a gold chain round its neck, a
pocket-handkerchief in its hand, and any other nonsense you can string
together. A lady's étagère or what-not would be a good medium for
collecting together absurdities--Mont Blanc at the top, a gridiron
below, a gold thimble at the side, the poets in a corner, a breakfast
set on one shelf, a card-case above, a smelling-bottle at the side, a
work-box, a writing-desk, a piece of coral, etc. A _genteel_ lady's
description of her mansion--certainly an extraordinary one--would be
suitable; a modern-built house, with a _porto-ricco_ in front, and a
_pizarro_ in the rear, a summer-house _contagious_, and _turpentine_
walks, etc.
Being now weary of games, Amy proposed that they should vary their
pleasures by a tale, which gained the general approval; and Ellen Green
was commissioned to relate it. Ever ready to oblige, she told them she
would, if they chose a subject. "What sort of a story will you have?"
"An Indian story!" exclaimed the younger boys.
"Do tell us about some great historical character--Washington, or King
Alfred, or Napoleon Bonaparte, or some other hero!" cried John Wyndham.
"I go in for a very frightful ghost-story, that will make our hair stand
on end, and make the girls afraid to go to bed!" said his brother
George.
"Tell us a romantic narrative about a knight going to the Crusades, and
his fair lady following him in the disguise of a page!" said Alice
Bolton.
"That's exactly like you!" cried her brother Charlie; "now, I say give
us some exciting adventures by sea or by land; a real fish-story, or
escape from a lion or tiger, or a tale of a bear, or something of that
sort."
"Poor Cousin Ellen! How can she please you all?" said Mary. "As Amy
first proposed it, let us leave it to her to choose the kind of story
she prefers, and so settle the difficulty."
"Agreed! agreed! choose, Amy!"
"As for me, I always like a real fairy-tale," said Amy, her eyes
sparkling with pleasure as she saw with what good nature all had left
the choice to her.
"Then you shall have it; and I don't doubt that Aunt Lucy or Cousin Mary
will contrive to please all in turn, another day."
"Most especially, I hope they will not forget to give Charlie that brush
with the _bear's tail_ that he wants so much!" said Cornelia, with a
saucy glance of her eye.
"Attention, Miss Cornelia! or you will prove that you deserve it
yourself. Don't you see that Ellen is ready to begin?"
The Fairy Wood.
Upon the banks of the Rhine there stand the ruins of an ancient castle,
which still attracts the attention of the passer-by, from its gigantic
remains, and the exceeding beauty of its situation. And if now, when its
glory has departed, the traveller is irresistibly impelled to ask its
name, how imposing must it have been when its dark shadow was thrown
unbroken upon the smooth waters below, and troops of cavaliers and armed
retainers rode over its drawbridge, and mounted its battlements. Here,
in the olden time, dwelt the noble Baron Sigismund; and here, nothing
daunted by the gloomy grandeur of the fortress, his little son Rudolph
romped and frolicked the live-long day. A charming fellow he was, with
eyes of heavenly blue, and a complexion of pure milk and roses; a true
boy, full of activity and vivacity, and with not a slight touch of
mischief in his composition. And yet he was such an affectionate and
good-hearted little soul, that his arms would be about your neck in a
moment, if he thought you were offended by his conduct; and so generous,
that he would take the cake from his own lips to give it to the
beggar--no trifling stretch of charity in a boy.
Is it wonderful, that Rudolph was the idol of his parents, the favorite
of his playmates, and the cherished darling of the whole castle? His
merry spirit and winning ways completely gained the hearts of the
servants and retainers, and many voices in the adjacent cottages were
loud in the praise of the beautiful, golden-haired boy. What a proud man
was Fritz, the old seneschal, when he taught him to manage the horse, to
couch the lance, and draw the bow! and when, for the first time, the
young heir followed him to the chase, who so happy as he? And Rudolph
reciprocated his affection; next to papa and dear mamma, sweet little
black-eyed Cousin Bertha, and the ugly, shaggy mastiff to which he was
devoted, old Fritz came in for his warmest love. And some people were
malicious enough to say that there was a strong resemblance between
these last two favorites, both in countenance and character; certain it
is, that both Bruno and Fritz were faithful, every ready to contribute
to his amusement, and although rough with other people, gentle enough
with their young master.
One day, in the absence of his father, he set out to ride, with Fritz
for his only attendant. It was a splendid afternoon; the sky was of that
pure exquisite blue you sometimes see, rendered deeper by a pile of
snowy clouds in the west; the birds were silent, as if unwilling to
disturb the holy calm of nature; not a leaf stirred, save here and there
a quivering aspen, emblem of a restless, discontented mind. Rudolph was
in excellent spirits, and Saladin, his good Arab steed, flew like the
wind; old Fritz tried to restrain his ardor, but in vain; the impetuous
boy kept far ahead. They were soon some miles from home, and Rudolph saw
before him a point where the road branched off in several directions,
one of them leading back again to the castle, another taking a circuit
of some distance, and a third, a narrow, unfrequented path, entering
into a dark forest. Into this wood the boy had never been allowed to
enter, from the evil name it had acquired in the traditions of the
peasantry. Some said that robbers haunted its deep recesses, for
travellers had entered it, notwithstanding all the entreaties of those
who would have detained them, but had never been seen again; in fact,
none had ever been known to return, who had been fool-hardy enough to
enter into that snare. Others argued that they had been devoured by the
wild beasts, whose savage roar might sometimes be heard at night; or
that, losing their way, they had perished with hunger. But the older and
wiser shook their heads at these suggestions, insinuating that
skepticism on such awful subjects might bring down vengeance upon the
unbelieving; and intimated, more by look and by gesture than by word,
that the whole forest was enchanted ground, and that powers more than
mortal claimed it as their own. All agreed that the Fairy Wood--so it
was called--was a dangerous place, and few, indeed, would venture into
its shady depths. Rudolph's curiosity had been excited in the most vivid
manner by what he had heard concerning the mysteries of the forest, and
he had long determined to seize the first opportunity of gratifying it.
Old Fritz would not have consented to his entering it, if he had given
him his weight in gold, but the worthy seneschal was now out of sight,
and here was a glorious opportunity for the boy--he dashed into the
wood, and urging Saladin onward, was soon involved in the intricacies of
the forest.
On went the fearless boy, determined to explore, and doubting nothing,
although the dark, gloomy shades might well have appalled an older
person, and the numerous, faintly defined paths would certainly have
made an experienced one hesitate. On he went, deeper and deeper into the
wood, until he was suddenly startled by low, prolonged, growling
thunder. He tried to retrace his steps, but was only more entangled in
the maze: the sky had become black as midnight, the rain fell in
torrents, the lightnings flashed fearfully, and all nature appeared
convulsed. Rudolph had never before witnessed such a storm, and brave
boy as he was, his heart quaked with terror--he felt how powerless a
human being is, when, unsheltered, he is brought face to face with the
elements, lashed up to fury. He now realized, in addition, that he had
lost his way, and feared that in his efforts to extricate himself, he
might penetrate still deeper into the wood; so he determined to throw
the reins upon his horse's head, and trust to his instinct, as he had
often heard that travellers had done successfully, when they had
wandered out of their road. He accordingly did so, and speaking cheerily
to Saladin, allowed him to choose his own path: to his surprise his
beautiful Arab left the track, and set off on what he concluded to be a
short cut out of the forest. After about an hour, however, poor little
Rudolph began to doubt the instinct of horses, for the aspect of every
thing around him became wilder every moment; but, happily, the rain had
ceased falling, and as far as he could judge from the occasional glimpse
he got of the sky, it had cleared up. On went Saladin, and did not stop
until they entered an open glade; when, as if his task were quite
accomplished, he came to a dead halt. Rudolph alighted, and looked about
him: all was so still and beautiful, that it had the effect of calming
the agitation of his spirits, and filling his mind with an indescribable
awe,--it looked pure and holy, as if the foot of man had never trod
there, from the foundation of the world. The setting sun, at this
moment, pierced through the clouds, tinting them with purple, crimson,
and gold, and revealing the full beauty of the scene. Rudolph found
himself in a circular opening, around which lofty trees, overgrown with
moss and lichen, seemed planted as a wall of defence. As he approached,
seeking to leave the spot, they tossed their long arms as if warning him
away, and the thick darkness behind appeared to become denser, and to
frown him back. A superstitious fear crept into his heart, and he turned
his eyes to the sweet glade rejoicing in the sunlight, where all looked
smiling and inviting. In the centre, upon a gentle mound covered with a
carpet of the softest, richest green, there towered a majestic oak,
which had looked upward to the sky for centuries, while generation after
generation of men had entered the world, had laughed and wept, grown old
and died. It showed no signs of the decrepitude of age, and raised up
its head proudly like the monarch of the forest; but a deep rent in its
heart showed that decay was at work, and that the lofty tree would, one
day, he laid low in the dust. Led by an irresistible impulse, Rudolph
ascended the mound, and entered the little chamber in the oak. The boy
was exhausted by fatigue and excitement, and, insensibly, his eyes
closed, and his weary frame was wrapt in slumber.
And now a strange thing occurred. Whether he dreamed, or whether he
waked, he scarcely knew; but delicious music stole through his soul, and
he opened his eyes. The little woodland glen was steeped in soft
moonlight; and, if it looked wonderful and beautiful when the sun shone
upon it, how much more so now, when the very light was mysterious, and
suggestive of something beyond! Around the mound there doated--for that
word only can express their motion--like bright and fleecy clouds, a
band of lovely beings, resembling none he had ever seen before. As he
gazed upon them, he thought not of creatures of earthly mould, but of
the most rapturous and fleeting sights and sounds of nature;--of the
rainbow, spanning the sky after a storm; of the dashing cataract,
descending in mist from stupendous heights; of the nightingale, singing
in her hidden nest; of harmless sheet-lightning, suddenly revealing
hills, domes, and castles in the clouds, then as suddenly dispelling the
illusion. As he looked more closely, he found that, as with linked hands
they glided round, their gossamer wings moving through the air waked up
a melody like that of the Eolian harp; while a few, standing apart, made
silvery music by shaking instruments, which looked like spikes of
bell-shaped flowers, and deeper tones were evolved from larger, single
bells, struck with rays of light. As the bells swung to the breeze, and
the cadence swelled and rose, a delicious fragrance of wild-flowers
filled the air, and from the depths of the forest all animated creatures
came forth to gaze upon the spectacle. The glow-worm crept there, but
his tiny lamp was dimmed by brighter fairy eyes; the noisy cricket and
the songsters of the grove hushed their notes, to listen to the harmony.
The wolf and the bear drew near together, but laid aside their
fierceness; the deer and the hare came forward fearlessly, under the
influence of the potent spell. Suddenly, from a hollow in the oak, an
owl with glaring eyes flew down: the music and the dance were hushed,
and all listened to his voice. To his surprise, Rudolph found that he
could understand the language of all animals, which had formerly seemed
to him mere unmeaning sounds.
"Bright Fairy Queen, shall mortal dare
On beauty gaze beyond compare;
Shall one of earth unpunish'd see
The mazes of your revelry?
That ancient oak, by your donation,
For years has been my habitation;
And now a child usurps my right,
Sleeping within its heart to-night;
Nor that alone, but dares to view
The mysteries of nature too.
And shall he go, unscath'd, away?
As Privy Counsellor, I say nay!
Else man will learn our secrets dread.
And higher raise his haughty head:
All nature soon would subject be,
Nor place be left us, on land or sea.
E'en now, prophetic, I see the day
When steam exerts resistless sway--
And iron monsters, with breath of flame,
Shall blot from earth the fairy name.
Then to the beasts that throng the wild,
Dread Queen, give up the intruding child!"
At this address, to which the wolves howled a dismal chorus of assent,
all eyes were turned upon the chamber in the ancient oak, in which
Rudolph sat, his heart quaking with terror at the thought of the fate
before him. But a sweet voice, clear and piercing, spoke his name, and
commanded him to descend, fearing nothing if his conscience was pure,
and if he had not obtruded through vain curiosity upon the revels of the
Queen of Fairy Land. Rudolph obeyed. The Queen was standing, with the
ladies of her court ranged on either side. They all were beautiful, but
she was like the brightness of the morning and the freshness of flowers.
Dazzling loveliness distinguished her, and a dignity to which all paid
obeisance. Upon her brow sparkled the evening star, her only diadem. She
gazed mildly, yet searchingly, upon the boy, as if she read his very
thoughts; and then she spoke:
"'Tis true, wise Counsellor, that according to our laws of Fairy Realm,
the child should die; and yet my heart yearns to the innocent, blue-eyed
boy. Does no one have compassion upon him? Have none a plea to offer for
his pardon? I solemnly declare that he shall be saved, were my very
crown and life endangered, if but one act of kindness and mercy shown by
him to weaker creatures, can be proved. For to the kind and merciful,
mercy should ever be shown; this law stands higher than any judicial
enactment."
As she spoke these words, a dove with gentle eyes and downy breast flew
to her feet, and thus timidly offered her prayer:
"I plead for mercy, gracious Queen,
I pray you to forgive!
And if my voice were silent now,
I were not fit to live.
One day, when absent from my nest,
A falcon, fierce and strong,
Seized me, all helpless to resist--
Soon would have ceased my song.
Just then, young Rudolph, brave and fair,
Perceived my urgent need;
He risk'd his life in saving mine--
And shall that kind heart bleed?"
"It shall not: he is saved; and you, gentle dove, ever wear this collar
round your neck as a token of my approbation; it shall descend in your
family to the latest generations." The Queen then touched Rudolph with
her golden wand; an electric thrill passed through his frame, and he
fell down senseless to the ground. When he awoke, he found himself lying
upon a couch of purple and gold, in a superb crystal hall, whose
pillars, sparkling with gems, rose upward to a lofty transparent dome of
blue, through which the sun was shining brilliantly. Over him bent the
Fairy Queen, radiant in beauty, and eying him with indescribable
tenderness. At last she spoke, kindly caressing him: "My son, you are
now in my dwelling, where no harm shall befall you; fear nothing. Here
you shall live forever, in splendor and happiness; your every wish shall
be gratified; no more scorching suns, no more dark and gloomy days for
you--all shall be joy, unvaried pleasure, eternal youth and health. One
solitary restriction I must lay upon you, but that is positive; on no
account shed a tear, for on that day when you weep, you must return to
earth--even my power could not keep you here. Tears must never sully the
palace of the Fairy Queen. But why should you weep? I myself will take
care of you, teach you, be a mother to you: when you feel a desire,
mention it to me, and it is already accomplished."
With ardent gratitude and passionate love and admiration, Rudolph
embraced the beautiful Queen, and said, "Is this really true? and is
this splendid place to be my own home?" "It really is; I have adopted
you for my son. It is my intention to educate you myself." "How very
good of you! how I love you! And my papa and mamma, and dear little
Bertha, can they live here too? And may Bruno, and Saladin, and old
Fritz come too?" "Oh no, little Rudolph, you must not talk about those
other people; they belong to the earth--let them stay there. You must
forget about that old home of yours, for all that has passed away; your
home is with me, in Fairy Land. It is much more beautiful here; there is
nothing on earth that can compare with it. I will show you such splendid
things! I will teach you how to paint the flowers, and to make diamonds,
and emeralds, and pearls. You shall see me mix the rainbow, and scatter
the dew upon the flowers at night. I have a thousand pretty things I
want to teach you: do you not wish to learn them?" "Oh, very much
indeed! I should like to do such things; I love dearly to work: mamma
often lets me water her flowers with a little watering-pot; is that the
way you scatter the dew?" "Child, child! How ignorant he is! But under
my tuition he will soon learn to understand the mysteries of nature. On
earth, children are so mismanaged--no wonder they become the sort of men
they do. My Rudolph shall be different; he shall hear no silly nursery
tales, shall waste no time in learning exploded nonsense, but shall
early become acquainted with _things_, and shall learn to value science.
I quite long to begin! It is a grand experiment; the work of education
is a noble one. And when he is a man, and has become under my teaching
a perfect specimen of what a man should be, what then? Shall I let him
return to earth? It is time enough yet to think of that." "May I go now,
and play, pretty lady? You are not talking to me." "True, I forgot
myself; come with me, Rudolph, and I will show you through my palace and
pleasure-grounds: recollect that you are now my son."
What words can describe the sights of beauty that awaited him? All
spectacles that could enchant the eye, all melodies that could ravish
the ear, were collected together, in infinite variety. Nothing that was
exquisite upon earth was unrepresented; but the grossness and the
imperfection which will cleave to every thing earthly, was left out. It
was the very palace of delights. And nothing faded here--the flowers
were ever-blooming, and if picked, were instantly replaced by fairer
blossoms. Delicious fruit, ever ripe, but never decaying, hung from the
boughs; streams of milk, wine, sherbet, and other delicious drinks,
trickled from the rocks into marble basins, and gold cups were suspended
near, to invite the thirsty to partake; while pure, sparkling water rose
high into the air, as if ambitious to greet the kindred clouds, and then
fell into large receptacles, fashioned out of one pearl, emerald, or
ruby. The pleasure-grounds were separated from the gross outer world by
a thick and lofty wall of evergreens, impervious to mortals, which
forbade both ingress and egress: at least, Rudolph's eyes could see no
mode of exit. But what could be wished for beyond? It was a paradise!
Rudolph was allowed to roam undisturbed through the splendid saloons,
vast halls, and pillared galleries of the palace, where at every step he
saw some new subject of wonder. No treasure-house of princes could for
one moment compare with the wealth and grandeur here exhibited, and the
Fairy Queen informed him that all should be his, when by knowledge he
had earned a title to it--it should be the reward of his application to
the noble studies to which she wished to introduce him. "I would do a
good deal to get all these beautiful things: I hope the lessons are not
very hard, for I never did like to study. I love play a great deal
better." "But play is only meant for babies and kittens, Rudolph: it is
unworthy of a being who can think. I know you have great talents, and I
am the one to develop them. I mean to teach you mineralogy and
chemistry, natural philosophy and history, astronomy and geology, botany
and geometry. You shall be wise, and shall learn to look beyond the
surface of things into their natures and constituent parts. You shall
know _why_ every thing was made just as it is, and shall understand the
exact proportions of all things to each other, and to the universe, so
that the whole system goes on in perfect and beautiful harmony. You
shall learn the balancings of the clouds, and the potent spell which
keeps the sun in its place, and makes the moon circle round the world.
You shall go with me into the dark caverns of the earth, and see how
rocks and metals are made in nature's forging shop. You shall witness
the operation of the subterranean forces which have altered the whole
aspect of this planet, and thrown up the lofty mountains, and tossed out
from the treasury below the varied wealth it held, making the world both
beautiful and rich. And I will show you ancient creatures, more huge
than whales, which once frolicked on the earth, before man was made: oh,
I have a thousand wonders to point out to you, and a great deal to
teach." "Thank you; you are very good. But indeed it sounds very hard,
and I don't like such things at all. I'd much rather play ball."
"Silly child!" thought the Fairy Queen, "he has been too long perverted
by the trifling ways of man: I should have taken him younger. I see that
I cannot at once indoctrinate him into the arcana of nature; I must
gradually lead him on, as if in play. Good! a bright idea! that must be
the right way to educate frivolous, frolicksome childhood. Science in
sport! excellent. Yes, I'll teach him the vocabularies in rhyme, and set
them to lively music--that will do; he'll like it nearly as well as if
it were nonsense. I'll lead him on to the knowledge of principles, by
means of beautiful experiments: he'll think I am amusing him, when I am
gravely in earnest in the work of instruction. I will set rewards before
him, to impel him onward: I will excite his curiosity, and make it a
favor to gratify it; and then the boy will swallow knowledge as if it
were cake."
"Come with me, Rudolph, I have something pretty to show you." "That I
will: I love to see pretty things, dear lady." "Call me mamma, Rudolph:
you are now my son." "Indeed I cannot: nobody is mamma but my own dear
mamma who loves me so--oh, I do _so_ wish I could see her!" "Hush,
child, that's silly. Now keep very quiet in this dark room, and you'll
see something. What is this I hold in my hand?" "A great glass jar, like
one of mamma's preserve jars, only much larger." "Do you see any thing
in it?" "Yes, ma'am, ever so much iron wire twisted round and round."
"Is there any thing else in the jar?" "Nothing at all." "Nothing you can
see, but there is a kind of gas we call oxygen, which will burn when I
put in a lighted piece of stick, very carefully. Look!" "Oh, beautiful,
beautiful! how the wire burns! only look at the sparks! that is very
pretty indeed, ma'am. Now it has all burnt out--what a pity!" "Now,
Rudolph, I want to tell you about it. You must know that the air we
breathe is made up of this oxygen, of nitrogen, a very little carbonic
acid gas, and a small quantity of water. If the oxygen was taken out of
the air, you could not live for one moment: I'll show you. You see this
jar? It is full of nitrogen--of air with the oxygen taken out." "But
what are you putting into it? A little mouse, I declare!" "Yes: but you
see it dies instantly; it cannot live because there is no oxygen in the
air." "Poor little mouse, how I wish you had not killed it! It is a
shame! If _I_ did such a cruel thing, my mamma would punish me." "Don't
talk so, child! it's silly. The mouse died without any pain, and if one
principle of science is fixed in your head, it is well worth the
sacrifice of its insignificant life. There will be less cheese eaten in
the world--that's all. Now, do you understand about oxygen and nitrogen,
which chiefly make up the atmospheric air?" "I know that oxygen made the
wire burn beautifully, and I know that horrid nitrogen killed the poor
little mouse; but I don't half believe that they are in the air I
breathe. I like to see pretty experiments, but I do hate explanations.
Now will you let me fly a kite?" "Yes; come out into the open
air--remember it is composed of oxygen and nitrogen--and I'll make you a
kite."
So saying, she led him into the gardens, and waving her wand over a
piece of birch bark, behold three splendid kites! The larger one
resembled an eagle, and as it mounted into the air, and its light wings
flapped in the wind, it seemed about to pounce upon the two smaller
kites, which were in shape like pigeons. Rudolph was enchanted, and
clapped his hands with glee. After allowing him to enjoy the novelty for
some time, the Fairy said to him, "To-morrow I will show you another
kite, more wonderful than these. I will make it so, that it will draw
down the electricity from the sky. Have you ever rubbed a cat's fur the
wrong way, in the dark?" "Oh, that I have! it's great fun. There's our
black cat, at home, I have often done it to her, and I can see the
sparks in cold weather." "Well, that is electricity, and there is
electricity in every thing, only some objects have more than others.
When you see the sparks, it is the electricity leaving a thing which is
overcharged with it, for another which has less, to keep up a balance.
The lightning is nothing but electricity, and to-morrow I'll make a
storm, to show you how to draw down this subtle element from the
clouds." "Oh, don't trouble yourself! I like this kind of kite well
enough: if I have to learn about that old electricity, I'd rather give
up playing kite."
"Rudolph, would you like to play at soap-bubbles?" "That I would! How I
wish Bertha was here--wouldn't she clap her hands and jump, as the large
bubbles fly up into the air!" "I do not wish you to think about little
Bertha. Here are your basin of soapsuds and your golden pipe; now blow
away, my boy!" "Oh, how very pretty! Do you see that big fellow, how he
shines in the sun, and shows all the colors of the rainbow? Isn't it
fine?" "That is the very thing I want to tell you about. The sun,
shining upon vapor and falling water, makes all these beautiful colors.
That is the way I mix the rainbow. The science which teaches about the
rays of light, their reflection and refraction, and the coloring they
give to different objects, is called Optics: it is an interesting study,
and I wish you to be a proficient in it." "Optics, is it? That seems to
me very different from blowing soap-bubbles. I do hate to be cheated
into learning big words, and understanding things, when I am playing."
"The child has no brains for science, I fear!" thought the fairy. "I
almost repent my bargain! However, I will not be discouraged quite yet,
perhaps the proper chord has not been struck." Accordingly, she
invented for him various pretty toys, since then copied by men: the
kaleidoscope, with its infinite variety of shifting figures; the orrery;
the prism; the burning-glass; the microscope and the telescope; and the
magic lantern, with its vast variety of entertainment. Another magic
spell she put into operation, by which, with the aid of an instrument in
a little square box, the sun was compelled to paint landscapes and
portraits, so true to life that they seemed only to lack motion. Rudolph
was very happy, playing with these beautiful and ingenious toys: he
thought them more entertaining than marbles, or battledore and
shuttle-cock. But when the _rationale_ came to be explained, his
preceptress found her labor was all lost--there was no mistaking the
fact that the child had an invincible dislike to science.
"I believe I see my mistake," thought the unconquerable Fairy. "I began
at the wrong end. Children _feel_ before they _think_. I must elevate
his fancy, and train his imagination by communion with forms of beauty.
I see that he cannot yet penetrate into the reason of things around him;
but he can feel the power of the external, and when his nature is
sufficiently exalted and matured, then he will of his own accord seek
knowledge. Yes, sentiment comes first, and reflection will follow in its
train."
Accordingly, the Fairy Queen commenced his poetical training, and for
some time she flattered herself that it advanced charmingly. As the
attraction of novelty had worn off from her extensive pleasure-grounds,
she caused the landscape daily to change, so that all the beauties,
scattered over the wide earth, were in succession placed before him. At
one time, the lofty Alps rose to the sky, filling his soul with the
sense of the sublime; and the chamois, with fleet foot, climbed their
snowy pinnacles; while the deep, frowning precipices and the dark
valleys gave him a sensation of terror, not unmingled with pleasure.
Suddenly the scene would change, and he stood upon an island of the
Pacific, a little emerald gem of the ocean. Around the coral reefs the
waves lashed themselves into fury, and the white surf flew upward; but
one little opening admitted the water gently into a quiet bay, where the
deep blue rivalled that of the sky, and the water-birds swam in peace.
The cocoa-nut, the plantain, and the banana spread their broad leaves to
the sun, and flowers of brilliant hues and exquisite fragrance enlivened
the landscape. Behind, there uprose tall cliffs covered with the richest
foliage, and cascades, like silver threads, dashed downward to the sea.
Again the spectacle changed, and Vesuvius appeared in flames, reddening
the sky, and paling the moon; floods of lava rolled down, and rocks and
ashes were tossed aloft. It seemed as if evil spirits were sporting
beneath, and the mountain shook in agony. In the distance, peacefully
slept the city of Naples, and that broad and beautiful bay, the
admiration of the world. These objects, however, did not last. Rudolph
soon lingered among sweet-scented orange groves, and plucked the golden
fruit by the light of the moon, and rejoiced in perfect beauty; or
wandered off into a magnolia forest, where the huge white flowers shone
forth among the dark glistening leaves, and the air was heavy with
fragrance. Or he paddled his small canoe among the waters of the Amazon,
and saw those magnificent water-lilies, on one of whose round green
leaves, with up-turned edges, he could float with perfect safety; while
the brilliant tropical birds flew around, and monkeys climbed the tall
trees, which were festooned with vines of luxuriant growth. Again did
the scene vary--and Niagara thundered down its cliffs, filling his
heart with delighted awe; resistless and changeless, rolled it then,
when the deer wandered undisturbed upon its shores, as now, when
thousands of visitors marvel at its grandeur, and feel the infinitude of
nature and the insignificance of man.
One day the Rhine was presented to his view--its vine-clad hills, its
frowning castles, its romantic scenery, and the happy peasants coming
from the vintage, with songs of rejoicing. But this struck a chord
untouched before. It brought up home and homely pleasures with a force
and vividness that made the boy, in the midst of all sensual delights,
feel a sudden sickness of the heart, a longing for the fireside, and for
the every-day occupations from which he had been snatched. He thought of
his father and mother, so kind and good; of merry little Bertha, ever so
pleased to frolic with him--and he almost felt her chubby arm around his
neck; he remembered old Fritz, and his rides upon Saladin, with his
arched neck and flowing mane. He thought of the ancient hall, in which
he had played such mad pranks with Bruno--even the black cat came in for
a portion of his regret. And never, never more was he to behold these
objects of his love! So feels the Swiss, when in a foreign land, when
breathing the balmy air of Italy, or wandering amid the gayeties of
Paris, he hears the Ranz des Vaches; the simple notes recall the Alpine
home, the mother and the friends: he sickens and dies.
Rudolph's sad countenance soon attracted the notice of his kind
protectress, who eagerly asked what she could do to promote his
happiness. He told his trouble, and especially dwelt upon his
loneliness; he longed to see his papa and mamma, and little Bertha; and
he wanted companions of his own age--human children, with whom he could
laugh and play, whom he could toss in the snow in winter, and with whom
he could rove the fields in summer, picking the flowers and chasing the
butterflies. The Fairy Queen shook her head: "You ask an impossibility,
Rudolph; my very existence was endangered by bringing you here, and how
can I convey other mortals to the crystal palace, the inner temple of
nature? It cannot be--however, now I think of a plan; yes, to-morrow you
shall have your wish, only you must smile and be happy once more,
Rudolph."
On the morrow, with the early dawn, a troop of merry, rosy children
awaited his waking: how soon they were friends! children, and child-like
hearts, are not long in knowing each other. They were all pretty, but
different, both in appearance and disposition; they were crowned with
flowers and green leaves, of various sorts. "What funny names you have!"
said Rudolph, as they introduced themselves. "Yes; but we did not name
ourselves," they replied; "it is not our fault if we have hard
names--you'll soon learn them." And so he did: there was Cochlearia, a
sharp-witted girl, who made rather biting speeches occasionally; there
was Daucus, a red-headed youngster, and Raphanus, a pretty child of
brilliant complexion, crowned with violet-colored flowers; there was
Brassica, and Zea, and Maranta, and Capsicum, a fiery fellow, and
Nasturtium, crowned with bright orange-flowers, and a great many others.
Rudolph liked most of them very much, but his especial favorites were
little Solanum and Farinacea, brother and sister, both crowned with blue
flowers. He thought they were so good, he could never get tired of them;
perhaps Brassica and Zea were sweeter, and Raphanus was more piquant,
but these two friends of his could never cloy his taste; he should
always love them. As for Cochlearia, he could not abide her: she was so
pert. Several times she came near disturbing the harmony of the little
band by her speeches: she reproached Daucus with his carroty head, and
told Capsicum that his temper was too hot, and called Nasturtium only a
weedy fellow, after all. Hereupon, Solanum, who was a very amiable soul,
told her she was enough to bring tears into anybody's eyes; and at that,
she turned round, and informed him that he was such a mealy-mouthed
fellow, he was no judge at all. At last Rudolph was obliged to tell her
that he had never known a child whose society he relished so little, and
that he would be compelled to complain of her, unless she went away;
accordingly she did so, and then they enjoyed uninterrupted peace. How
happy was that day! how varied the amusements! what joyful shouts! what
heart-felt laughter! Rudolph, long debarred from the company of other
children, was almost out of his wits with excitement.
But the sun now approached the west, and with one accord they hastened
away, notwithstanding all his entreaties. "Why must they go? They could
sleep with him; there was plenty of room in the palace; they should not
leave." "They would return to-morrow, but now they must go; before the
sun set--good-by, good-by." "You shall _not_ go," cried Rudolph, seizing
hold of Solanum and Farinacea, who struggled hard to evade him, while
their companions swiftly passed them, and vanished through a little
postern gate he had never seen before, into the forest beyond. "Why
should you want to go? Do you not love me?" said Rudolph, as the two
struggled yet more earnestly to escape his grasp. "I assure you we
_have_ hearts, but we cannot now stay," was all they could utter, for at
that moment the sun sank below the horizon, and the beautiful children
vanished from his sight: in their place, there fell to the ground--two
potatoes! Scarcely believing his eyes, he quickly opened the little
gate, calling to his friends to return; but no voice replied, and no
children were to be seen. Instead, scattered about upon the ground, were
radishes, carrots, turnips, parsneps, cabbages--all that remained of his
playmates. The disappointed child burst into a fit of passionate
weeping. Was all deception, illusion? Was there nothing real, naught to
satisfy the heart? Was he ever to be alone, consumed by vain longings
for affection he was destined never to receive? What did _he_ care for
all that beauty and grandeur--one heart-given human kiss was worth it
all.
The child was still sobbing bitterly when the Fairy Queen drew near. Her
starry crown was dim, like the evening star seen through a mist; the
sparkle had gone out of her eye and her face. She was sad, for she knew
that she must lose her little protégé; she was vexed, for she had been
completely baffled. "And cannot I make you happy?" she said. "Is all the
power, and the grandeur, and the wisdom, and the beauty you see in Fairy
Land, insufficient to satisfy that foolish heart of yours? Silly boy! he
longs for human love. Go then--even if I _could_ keep you, I think I
scarcely would; I can teach you nothing." "And may I really go? Go to my
own dear, sweet mamma? Oh, how happy I am!" "You little ungrateful
wretch! is that all the thanks I get for the pains I have taken to make
a man of you?" "Of course you are very good: but indeed I always told
you I wanted to remain a little boy." "Out of my sight!" said she,
stamping her tiny foot upon the rock on which she was
standing--sympathizing with her passion, it threw out sparks, which
hardened into diamonds when they cooled. "My experiment has proved a
signal failure; I see a child will be a child, in spite of all the
charms of science: if ever I take another--if ever I try again to bring
up a philosopher, may I lose my crown!"
Rudolph, affrighted, had run through the little gate, which immediately
closed behind him. He looked around; the scene was strangely familiar.
He found himself at the border of a wood, in a place where three roads
crossed. "It was there," thought he, "that, a year or two ago, I dashed
into the forest on Saladin, and got lost: and since then I have been in
Fairy Land." At that moment he lifted up his eyes, and saw old Fritz
approach, leading Saladin; he ran forward to meet him, and Fritz, on his
part, seemed overjoyed at seeing his young master. "You dear old soul!
how glad I am to see you! Why, you don't look a day older than when we
parted!" "It would be queer if I did, as we only parted company an hour
ago, when you rode off and left your poor old Fritz. How you have
frightened me! I thought you had gone home the nearest way, and rode
there to see: but no, you were not at the castle. So I came back again,
very much worried about you on account of the shower that came up so
suddenly, and met your horse, quite near the wood. I'm glad to find you
at last!" "Is it possible it was only an hour ago? I can hardly believe
it." "Oh yes, no more, though it has seemed longer to me, I have been so
anxious." Rudolph laughed. "I do believe I have been asleep! and I have
had the funniest dream! Do you know, I thought I was in Fairy Land? It
was all so sweet, and so grand, and learned, and tiresome--Oh, I am glad
it was only a dream. I did want so much to get home again, and have some
fun."
"How could he wish to leave such a charming place, where there was every
thing that was lovely on earth?" cried Gertrude. "I think he had very
little taste."
"There was all there," said Aunt Lucy, "but the very things he
wanted--his father and mother, his playmates, kind old Fritz, and his
horse and dog--not to speak of a very important thing in a boy's eyes,
liberty to play without being pestered with continual lectures."
"I think your Fairy Queen has a tart temper of her own, sister Ellen,"
said Tom. "When she was rating the poor little fellow for ingratitude, I
thought of that passage in Virgil, where the rage of the gods is spoken
of--'Tantæne animis coelestibus iræ!'"
"Do translate, for the benefit of the unlearned. It is so _mannish_ to
quote Latin," said Cornelia.
"'Can such anger dwell in celestial souls?' You see I am all obedience,"
answered Tom.
"You should remember, my dear critic, that fairies never yet claimed to
be perfect beings. They are very far from being angels, and are
decidedly of the earth, earthy. You know that the inferior specimens of
the race--the vulgar fairies--delight in playing tricks upon careless
housekeepers, spilling their cream and spoiling their butter: that is
not very angelic, I'm sure. Of course, the Queen would be too dignified
and too spiritual for such frolics; but she could not understand much
about human nature, or child-nature, and especially she would think the
affections to be great nonsense. But she has bought her experience now,
with Rudolph."
"One comfort is, that she does not intend to take another child to
educate--she has had enough!" said Amy.
"She could not, if she would," replied Mary. "I think the day has now
come, foreseen by the prophetic owl,
'When iron monsters, with breath of flame,
Shall blot from earth the fairy name.'"
"Steam engines and locomotives?" said Louis.
"Nothing else," replied Ellen. "I do not doubt in the least that the
whole of that Fairy Wood has been carefully surveyed and graded, and
iron tracks run directly through the palace itself."
"Oh what a shame!" cried Harry.
"'Tis very sad, indeed, to have all romance spoiled in this way," said
Mrs. Wyndham. "But we have a modern substitute for the magic of
Elfdom--this very steam-engine, which works such wonders; the electric
telegraph, which beats time itself, making news depart from Philadelphia
for St. Louis, and reach its destination an hour before it started, if
you may believe the clock. And some of those toys, originally invented
by the Fairy Queen, if we may credit Ellen--the telescope, bringing down
the moon so near to you, that you feel inclined to take a long step, and
place yourself in another planet--and photography, which enables you in
one moment to possess upon metal or paper an exact fac-simile of your
friend. If these things do not surpass all we read of in Fairy Land, I
know nothing about it."
"I have one very serious objection to your Fairy Queen, Cousin Ellen,"
said Charlie Bolton, trying to keep a long, sober face.
"What is that? Poor Queen, how she is criticised! If she were here, she
would show her temper now, I think!"
"She is such a horrid _blue_. It's all very well for her to dance, and
mix the rainbow, and sprinkle the dew upon her flowers, and wear the
evening star on her forehead, if she does not find its weight
oppressive--that's all feminine enough. But when she tries to come over
us as an _esprit fort_--a strong-minded woman--it's rather too much.
Oxygen and hydrogen, and all the _ologies_--I never can stand that sort
of thing in a woman."
"Just as if we had not a right to knowledge as well as the lords of the
creation! And besides, I want to know, Master Charlie, which is the most
disgusting--for a woman to lisp learning, or for a man to talk politics,
as the creatures will do!"
"Oh, I beg your pardon--I very humbly retract, my dear Coz. I must use
the words of that sensible 'Coon, who has earned immortality by meeting
his death like a philosopher--'Is that you, Captain Scott?' 'Yes.' 'Then
you need not fire--don't take the trouble to raise your rifle--if it's
you, Captain Scott, I might as well come down.' So, if it's you, Miss
Cornelia Wyndham, you can spare your shot, for I'll come down at
once;--I would rather face the Woman's Rights' Convention, in full
conclave assembled, than my Cousin Cornelia, when she stands up for the
rights of her sex to be pedantic and disagreeable!"
"I was quite amused at the Queen's experiments in education," said Mr.
Wyndham. "She is not the only one who has tried to force knowledge upon
unwilling minds, and to develop children as we would spring peas and
asparagus, by subjecting them to hot-house stimulants. These fancy
methods of training the young idea do not appear to succeed very well;
to see some of the cards used in infant schools, and to read occasional
school advertisements, you would deem it quite impossible that any
dunces could escape the elevating processes now applied to the
unfortunate little ones--yet, happily, the constitutions of most
children are very elastic, and there are not as many instances of dropsy
on the brain as we might expect."
"I wonder the Fairy did not take a hint from the bees," remarked Mary.
"How is that? Have they any particular mode of training?"
"Very much so: when they want to rear up a sovereign who shall be fitted
to govern the hive with wisdom, they take any one of their hundred
little grubs at random, and put it under tutors and governors. These
cram it, not with lectures on political economy, books on international
law, or any thing of that sort, but with food much more to its
taste--the very best honey, and a kind of _royal food_, which I suppose
it is considered high treason for a subject to touch. Day by day, the
grub becomes more and more the princess, and finally expands into
queenly magnificence, when, of course, she must have a hive of her own,
or do as Dido of Tyre--colonize, and found a Carthage."
"Quite amusing! But is it true?"
"Yes, actually; and if only some such process could be applied to
children, would it not save trouble?"
"And wouldn't we like it!" cried George Wyndham, "Ah, but I'd make a
bonfire of my Euclid and Virgil, and all the other worthies, or bury
them, as the fellows do yearly at Yale College--I had much rather be fed
with some essence of knowledge, like the bees."
"This talk about fancy modes of mental culture," remarked Mr. Wyndham,
"reminds me of a Life I lately read of Mr. Day, the author of that
delightful book, Sandford and Merton. He was a remarkably benevolent and
excellent man, but visionary, and had some peculiar crotchets about
education. When quite a young man, he took charge of two poor, pretty
orphan girls, and had them trained up in accordance with his own ideas,
intending to make one of them his wife. Both grew to be fine women, but
to spoil the romance, fell in love with other men! so that he enjoyed
the pleasure of sedulously educating good wives for two worthy
tradesmen, and being left in the lurch himself. A second experiment
turned out yet worse, for it cost him his life: he had doubtless had
enough of girls, so he took another animal, which he thought might be
tamer and more tractable--a horse. He would not allow it to be broken in
the usual method, which he considered very cruel: he would talk to it,
caress it, make it his friend, win it by kindness. But unfortunately for
his experiment, the horse killed him, by a kick, I believe, before it
had succeeded."
"Poor Day! Uncle, you remind me of the cow that the man wanted to train
so as to consider eating a superfluity--she was coming on admirably, but
unfortunately for the full success of the experiment, she perversely
died, the very day her owner had reduced her to one straw."
"How very unlucky!"
"Aunt Lucy," said Alice, "when Ellen gave us the Queen's theorizing in
education, I could not help thinking of the old saw, 'Bachelors' wives
and old maids' bairns are always the best guided.' It's very easy to
manage _dream_ children; but when you come to real flesh and blood, it's
quite another matter. It does not appear to me that all this
systematizing and speculation does much good."
"Not a bit of it," cried George Wyndham. "We boys must be boys to the
end of the chapter; and I tell you, some of us are pretty tough
subjects! The only hope is that we may turn out not quite so horrid,
when we grow up."
"I once heard a plan proposed for getting rid of boys of your age,
brother George," said Cornelia.
"Much obliged; what was that?"
"To bury them at seven, and dig them out at seventeen; how do you like
it?"
"'Tis a bad plan. There would be nobody left in the world to run errands
for older sisters--it would never do."
"When little Rudolph was so fond of his vegetable friends," said Mary,
"and found them so good, so sweet, so much to his taste, I thought of an
account I had somewhere read, written, I think, by the witty Sydney
Smith, of a conversation a new missionary in the South Sea islands held
about his predecessor, who had been eaten by the cannibals. He asked the
natives if they had known him--we will call him Mr. Brown, as it's
rather fabulous. 'Mr. Brown? Oh yes! very good man--Mr. Brown! very
good.' 'And did you know his family?' 'Oh yes! such sweet little
children! so nice and tender! But Mrs. Brown was a bad woman--she was
_so very tough_.' She was not to their taste."
"But, Cousin Ellen," said Amy, "I want to know about those vegetable
friends of Rudolph. I know that Capsicum is a kind of pepper, and I have
often met Nasturtium, crowned with his orange-flowers; I suppose, of
course, that Solanum and Farinacea are potatoes--but who is that sharp
Cochlearia, who told Solanum he was a mealy-mouthed fellow?"
"Horse-radish--which Solanum thought enough to bring tears into
anybody's eyes."
"And Daucus--was he a carrot?"
"Yes; and Raphanus, with his brilliant complexion, was a radish. Maranta
was arrow-root, Zea was Indian corn, and Brassica, a turnip--we often
enjoy their society at table."
"I shall always think of Cochlearia when I eat horse-radish on my beef,"
said Charlie Bolton. "Especially when I take too much, by mistake."
"And when I find, to my sorrow, that potatoes have hearts I shall think
of Solanum."