A NIGHT JOURNEY.
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"THIS has been a fine day!" I said, as I sat down by Brighteyes' pillow.
"Certainly it cannot be said that you five mice spend your time in
idleness. The only wonder is that your uncle's hair has not turned gray
from anxiety, long before this. I never saw such mice. Positively,
Pun-Chin is nothing to you."
"And who is Pun-Chin?" asked Brighteyes. "And who are you, if you
please?"
"Pun-Chin is a Chinese mouse--I mean boy," I replied. "And I am the Man
in the Moon. I live in a silver palace--" and then I told her all about
myself, as I had told Downy and the twins the night before. But
Brighteyes was much more excited about it all than the little ones had
been. Very little children take everything for granted I find, like my
friend little Mary West, who, when a great green frog jumped right into
her lap the other day, as she was sitting by the brook, merely said
"Poor frog wanted to sit down, was tired!"
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"Oh!" cried Brighteyes. "How delightful! how perfectly delightful! and
are you really true, or am I only dreaming you? and what is your name?
and may I call Nibble?"
"One thing at a time!" I replied. "I certainly am true, as true as
moonshine. As for dreaming me, why, that depends on what you call
dreaming, you know. And as for my name--humph! can you pronounce
Bmfkmgth, for example? that is the name of my dog, and it is a good
name, too."
"No!" said Brighteyes. "I certainly cannot. It sounds like sneezing and
barking and whistling all at once."
"Exactly!" I replied. "That is the language of the dog-star. But _my_
name is very much harder than that, so there really would be no use in
my telling it to you. There are twenty-four j's in it, and seventeen
g's, so you may imagine that it is difficult. The other children call me
Mr. Moonman, and you may as well do so too. As for Nibble," I continued,
"if he sleeps in this little room close by, it is an easy matter to call
him. Whisk, just ask that boy's bed if it will please step in here, will
you?" The good beam did his errand quickly, and in another moment the
two beds stood side by side, and shook castors in a very friendly
manner. Nibble, who was as fast asleep as heart could desire, was very
much astonished as Brighteyes introduced him to me, and told him all the
wonderful things she had heard.
"But how did you get down here?" he asked. "Did you come on a falling
star?"
"No!" I replied. "I always ride on my own beams, which are much more
manageable, and swifter as well. Why, I can go round the world in two
whisks of a comet's tail."
"Oh! oh!" cried Nibble. "Mr. Moonman, don't you think you could let me
ride on one some time? I can ride very well, indeed I can! Uncle Jack
lets me ride Castor sometimes, and even Jose never can get me off,
unless he lies down and rolls! oh! _please_ let me ride on a moonbeam!
it would be _so_ jolly!"
"Jolly enough, but not quite safe enough, my young friend!" said I. "It
is very easy to ride on a moonbeam when one knows how, but very
different when one does not. There are, however, other ways of getting
about. A nice little cloud is what you want." I looked out of the
window, but not a cloud was to be seen in the sky.
"Oh dear!" said the mice. "We should _so_ like to have a ride, Mr.
Moonman. Couldn't you take us on your moonbeam? we would sit very still,
and not say a word!"
"And you shall have a ride," I said; "but not on Whisk. Run now to your
uncle's bureau, and bring me from the top drawer two of his largest silk
handkerchiefs." Yes, that was soon done. "Now 'Whisk,'" said I, "there
must be some little Winds about here with nothing special to do. See if
you cannot find some who are willing to give these mice a ride."
Off went Whisk through the window, and back he came in a moment with
seven merry little Winds, all ready for a frolic.
They had sung all the birds and all the flowers to sleep, they said, and
had been sitting under a tree, whistling for something to do, and now
nothing would give them greater pleasure than to blow the two little
heavy ones (for I am sorry to tell you, children, that you are all known
by that name among the lively spirits of the air,) wherever they liked
to go.
"That is well then," said I. "And where will you go, you two mice?"
"To China!" said Nibble.
"Oh! yes, to China!" cried Brighteyes. "Then we can see Pun-Chin, the
naughty boy you spoke of, and you can tell us more about him as we go
along!"
"Yes! yes! to China," said Nibble, again; and he began to dance wildly
around the room, as if nothing would stop him. At last the two mice were
ready for their long journey through the air.
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"China it is then!" I said. "Spread the handkerchiefs out on the
window-sill. That's right! Now sit down on them--so! now, little Winds,
blow steadily and off we go!"
Ah! that was a ride worth taking, you may believe. Away through the soft
May night, over the tree-tops, over the hill-tops, the two mice, half
frightened, half delighted, sitting cross-legged on their handkerchiefs,
like two little Turks, and the merry little Winds puffing away with
might and main, while Whisk and I led the way, and lighted it too. Yes,
it was a pretty sight, had there been any one there to see it. But if
you had been there yourself, you would only have said "See those two
great white owls! how fast they fly."
Now we came to the sea. Hundreds of my beams were there sparkling over
the shining water, and playing with the little waves, which put up their
faces, each in its white nightcap, and laughed and danced merrily. They
called to the seven Winds and said:
"Come down and play with us!"
But the Winds said "No! no! we have work to do now. We can be very
steady fellows when we choose, though you might not think it."
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And they puffed away bravely, to the great relief of Nibble and
Brighteyes, who had been wondering what would become of them if the
merry Winds should take a fancy to play with the waves.
Now they began to sing, the seven Winds, and the waves answered them as
they leaped and danced. And this is the song they sang:
"Ever singing, ever sighing,
Ever floating, ever flying
Over land and sea.
Bringing summer's glow and gladness,
Bringing winter's snow and sadness,
Merry winds are we!
"Greeting all with soft caresses,
Shaking out the maiden's tresses
Till she laughs with glee.
Whispering to the bonny flowers,
Fanning them through sultry hours,
Merry winds are we!"
Then the waves tossed up their nightcaps and sang:
"Ever coming, ever going,
Ever ebbing, ever flowing,
Children of the sea.
Creeping o'er the silver beaches,
Foaming o'er the rocky reaches,
Merry waves are we!
"Blue and golden in the sunlight,
Gray and silver in the moonlight,
Beautiful to see.
Giving back each star its brightness,
Giving back each cloud its whiteness,
Merry waves are we!"
"That is charming!" said Brighteyes. "Dear little Winds, how sweetly you
sing! and how strange that we have never heard you before."
"Look!" cried Nibble. "What is that, that shines so over yonder? is it a
sail?"
Yes, it was a sail, and as we came nearer we saw a stately ship,
sailing slowly along. All her crew seemed to be asleep, except one man,
who was pacing up and down the deck.
He looked up as we passed, and cried "Hi! albatrosses! how queerly they
are flying! wake up, shipmate, and look at those birds!"
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But before any of the sailors were awake, we were flying far away, while
the Winds and the Waves sang together:
"Wake the ship!
And shake the ship!
And over the sea we will take the ship!
Filled with oranges, candy, and toys,
Some for the girls and some for the boys."
"Oh! is it really?" asked Nibble. "I wish I had some! this flying makes
one hungry."
But here now was the land again. We bade farewell to the merry Waves,
and flew along over the sleeping country. The lights of a great city lay
before us.
"Let us fly lower," said Brighteyes, "and then we can peep into some of
the windows and see the people asleep."
"That is not very safe!" I replied. "In these great cities there are
plenty of people awake all night; and it would never do for us to be
shot at, you know."
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Just then a puff of smoke from a tall chimney came up, and got into the
children's eyes and noses, so that they were glad to fly higher, where
the air was pure, and fresh.
We passed over vast and gloomy forests, where the solemn pines bowed
slightly as the seven Winds swept by; and over green meadows, where
flocks of sheep lay huddled together, fast asleep. As we went further
and further eastward, the darkness began to fade.
"In China it will be broad daylight," I said, "and Whisk and I shall
fade almost out of sight; but we shall still be with you, so you need
feel no alarm."
"Are we near China now?" asked Brighteyes. "And you have not told us
about Pun-Chin, Mr. Moonman!"
"To be sure!" I answered. "What an excellent memory this mouse has!
well, we may very likely see Pun-Chin, and then you shall judge for
yourself. The last time I saw him, he had just painted his little
brother bright green from head to foot, and was telling him that his
father would chop him up into little bits and sow him for grass-seed.
The poor little boy was very much frightened, as you may imagine. Yes,
he is a bad fellow for mischief, that boy.
"But now we must fly lower," I added, "for we are over China now. Use
your eyes well, my little mice, and see all that you can see, for there
is no knowing when you will be here again."
The mice did use their eyes well; and indeed there were many strange
things to look at. Green rice-fields, with bright streams of water
flowing through them, made the country beautiful. Pagodas and temples,
gaily painted, and gilded, glittered in the sun, and the queer, narrow
streets were filled with people dressed in strange garments of blue,
red, and yellow. They all carried large paper umbrellas covered with gay
figures.
In one street we saw a boy sitting on a queer sort of gate. Three dogs
were fastened to this gate by their tails, and as they leaped about in
their efforts to free themselves, the gate swung to and fro, thus saving
the boy the trouble of swinging himself.
Now a man came slowly along the street, reading a paper attentively, and
thinking of nothing else. Just as he was passing by the gate, however,
the boy made a sudden spring, and alighting on the man's shoulders,
knocked him flat in the muddy street; then springing up again like a
flash, he resumed his place on the gate, and looked as innocent as a
lamb. But the man picked himself up slowly, and turning round, poured a
torrent of angry words on the sportive youth.
"Child of perdition!" he cried, "may the Red Dragon make his next meal
of thee, and use thy bones for chopsticks! my life is of no value to me,
on account of thy tormentings. Am I never to be left in peace?"
The boy, smiling sweetly, was about to reply; but at that moment a
woman, who was passing by, happened to look up, and caught sight of the
two red silk handkerchiefs in the air, with Nibble and Brighteyes on
them. Me they could not see, nor the seven Winds, but the children were
plainly visible, and very funny they must have looked.
"Hop-Wang!" cried the woman. "Look up quickly, and see these strange
things in the sky! it is some fearful sign from the gods, I fear."
Hop-Wang looked up, and started; but instead of being frightened, he
showed every sign of delight.
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"The Red Dragon! the Red Dragon!" he cried. "Do you not see the
fluttering of his wings?" (Indeed, the Winds were blowing the corners of
the handkerchiefs, which were almost as large as small tablecloths, in
every direction, to screen the two children, so that they really did
look rather like flapping wings.) "I have prayed to the Big Idol," he
continued, addressing the woman, "ever since this imp of wickedness here
set fire to my beautiful pig-tail and burned it off, to send one of his
strong dragons to carry off my tormentor. And now my prayers are
answered, and the Red Dragon, strongest of all, is here! Hokkaloo!
hokkaloo!" and he danced with delight.
But his joy was shortlived. The boy, as soon as he heard the words "Red
Dragon," and saw the fluttering wings, turned three somersaults in
succession, and was out of sight in the twinkling of a satellite; and I,
thinking that distance would lend enchantment to the view, and to be out
of danger, begged the Winds to blow the handkerchiefs up a mile or so.
Accordingly the bright vision receded gradually from the sight of the
disappointed Chinaman, and finally vanished, leaving him very
disconsolate, and once more at the mercy of his tormentor.
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"Mr Moonman!" said Brighteyes, as we rose slowly through the clear air.
"Well, Mouse Brighteyes!" I said, "what is it?"
"Was that Pun-Chin?"
"That was Pun-Chin!" I replied.
"I thought so!" said Brighteyes. And she was silent for some time,
thinking, perhaps, of the tail-feathers of the sixty-five parrots.
"How delightful it will be," said Nibble; "to tell Uncle Jack and the
twinnies about this wonderful ride. Just think how surprised they will
be!" "There is a slight difficulty about that," I replied, "which is
that you will not remember in the morning a single thing that has
happened to-night." "Oh! Oh!" cried both the children, "how can that be
possible, Mr. Moonman? we _could_ not forget all these wonderful things,
even if we tried, and we do not want to try." "That is all very well," I
replied, "but it will make no difference whether you try or not, for all
will be as I say. If you had carried a sprig of the sea-flower in your
hands it might have been otherwise; but I take care never to give that
to children, remembering what trouble my cousin Patty once had from
doing that very thing."
"Who is your cousin Patty?" asked Nibble. "Pray tell us about her." The
little Winds nodded their heads.
"We know all about her!" they said. "She is the Sea Fairy, and lives in
the palace which is hollowed out of a single pearl, under the Indian
Ocean. There are fine things there, Father Moonman!"
"You are right!" I said, "and some night these two mice shall pay her a
visit, and see for themselves. But as I was saying, she got into trouble
once, by giving a sprig of the sea-flower to a little boy of whom she
was very fond. I took him down to see her one night, and she gave him
many beautiful things, among them a pair of diamond trousers."
"Diamond trousers!" exclaimed Nibble. "Who ever heard of such things!"
"There are many things which you have not heard of," I replied, "and one
seems to be that you are not to interrupt when other people are
speaking."
Nibble hung his head and was silent.
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"She gave him," I continued, "a pair of diamond trousers, which shone as
brightly as Whisk does when he shakes himself. The boy, a little English
fellow named Arthur, was of course, very much delighted, and putting the
trousers on, he capered all about the palace, kicking his little legs up
and down, to make the diamonds sparkle more and more. 'Now there is a
rule among all the Light Ones (as we are called to distinguish us from
human beings,) that no heavy one shall ever be allowed to take anything
away with him when he comes to see us. It is a very necessary rule, for
there would be all kinds of trouble without it. So on this occasion, if
Patty had not given little Arthur the sea-flower, all would have been
well. He would have enjoyed his diamond trousers while he was under the
sea, and when he woke up in the morning he would not have known anything
about them. But the poor little boy, having the sea-flower in his hand,
woke up with his head full of the past night, and fully expecting to
find the diamond trousers hanging over the back of a chair close by his
bed. When he looked, therefore, and saw nothing but his little brown
knickerbockers, with a patch on each knee, it was a bitter
disappointment. His first thought was that his beautiful present was
stolen, and he began to scream and cry: 'Where are my diamond trousers?
somebody has stolen them! stop thief! they are mine, and Patty gave them
to me!'
"Well, his mother hearing those cries, came in, and on hearing the
child's story she thought he had gone mad, and was very anxious about
him. Still he cried and screamed for his diamond trousers; but suddenly,
as he raised his hand to push away the chair on which the despised brown
knickerbockers lay, he dropped the sea-flower! Instantly everything
about Patty and the diamond trousers passed out of his mind like a flash
of lightning, and looking up at his mother, he said: 'What was I crying
about, Mamma? Isn't it time to get up?' And his mother said: 'Yes, my
darling, it is high time to get up, and I think you have had the
nightmare, Arthur dear.'
"So you see," I continued, "that it is not at all a wise thing to give
the sea-flower to little people like you. But, bless me! here we are at
the Mouse-trap again. Now, my mice, creep into your nests! say good-by
to the little Winds, and thank them for blowing you so far, for they
must be tired."
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"Oh! thank you! thank you! dear little Winds!" cried the two mice. "We
have had such a glorious ride, and we are so much obliged! and thank you
too, dear Mr. Moonman! will you come every night, please, and tell us
more wonderful things?"
"We will see about that!" I replied. "Every night is very often, and
there are many other children who look for me. But I will come soon
again, I promise you. Now good night, and a pleasant waking to you!" and
as Whisk and I flew upward, we heard the seven little Winds singing
softly, as they swung to and fro in the grape-vine outside the nursery
window:
The birds may sleep, but the winds must wake
Early and late, for the birdies' sake;
Kissing them, fanning them, soft and sweet,
E'en till the dark and the dawning meet.
The flowers may sleep, but the winds must wake
Early and late, for the flowers' sake;
Rocking the buds on the rose-mother's breast,
Swinging the hyacinth-bells to rest.
The children may sleep, but the winds must wake
Early and late, for the children's sake;
Singing so sweet in each little one's ear,
He thinks his mother's own song to hear.
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The rain came down from the sky,
And we asked it the reason why
It would ne'er stay away
On washing-day,
To let our poor clothes get dry.
The rain came down to the ground,
With a chattering, pelting sound.
"Indeed, if I stayed
Till you called me," it said,
"I should not come all the year round!"