Grazing on the sunny hillsides, lying asleep under the shade trees, or
frolicking about the meadows they saw, literally, the lion and the lamb
lying down together, for on this peaceful island, where no cruel man’s
gun had ever been fired or angry master’s whip been used, animals of all
kinds lived as peacefully as if belonging to the same happy family.
The island was very large and all changes of climate were common to it
as well as every kind of animal known to man, from the polar bear of the
frigid zone to the hippopotamus of torrid climes, but the most wonderful
thing about all these animals was that they could talk, though each had
a language characteristic of its particular breed as well as a language
common to all, so that each could make his wants or needs known to any
and all about him.
When our young people heard this they were delighted beyond expression.
“I was never so glad of any one thing in all my life as to know that a
time has come when animals can talk and make themselves understood,”
said Ione. “I have always felt that they could and would some day
because the expression of their eyes is so intelligent, and from the
pathetic looks they have often given us, I have been sure they knew our
minds and comprehended our troubles even though they could not tell us
so.”
“Let us show ourselves to them without our magic robes, and see if any
of our old-time pets are here and will recognize us,” said the Prince.
“Bow-wow-wow!” barked a dog behind Ione and turning she saw a noble
Saint Bernard with eyes beaming with love and tail wagging with joy.
“Oh, Hero! you old darling, how are you?” cried Ione.
“I am very well, I thank you,” he replied.
Hearing her old playfellow answer in a deep bass voice came almost as a
shock to Ione even though she had just been told that all animals on
this island talked.
“Why are you so astonished to hear me speak?” he cried. “You used
constantly to say to me ‘Speak, Hero, speak, I know you can talk if you
try!’”
“Yes; I know, Hero, but now that you do talk, it seems strange and you
must give me time to get used to it. Did you always understand
everything I said to you?”
“Indeed I did, and it nearly broke my heart when you asked me to speak
and I could not. If you will come with me I will show you around and you
can see other pets you used to have on Earth.”
When they turned to go they saw her Indian pony that had been her almost
constant companion while with the Indians.
“And here is Whistle!” she exclaimed, patting her pony, so named because
he made the wind whistle by as he ran, he was so fleet-footed. “You
dear, dear pony. I am too rejoiced for words to see you again, for I
never expected to lay eyes on you again.”
“All I can say, Sweet-Face, is that I am delighted to know that you
escaped from the Indians, for I heard that they were going to force you
to marry Mud Face when he returned from his hunting trip, the trip on
which Mr. Harold killed him. I had made up my mind to run away with you
and try to reach the nearest settlement before I would see you married
to that cruel fiend, even if you thought I was going crazy for not
obeying the pull on my reins. We ponies as well as other animals are
often misunderstood when we try in our own dumb way to help our masters
and mistresses, for they cannot always interpret our actions and
signals, so often think us disobedient when we are really trying to
serve them.”
“You dearest darling!” exclaimed Ione, “to think that you were trying to
plan a way to save me and I did not even know that they intended
marrying me.”
“I knew you did not, but I overheard it by chance, as I grazed
peacefully about while listening to Mud Face and Old Heron Feather talk,
wrapped in their blankets near the camp-fire.”
“Oh! here come my pet doves,” she cried, as a flock of white pigeons
alighted on her head, shoulders and outstretched hands. “You beauties!
Where did you come from and how do you like it up here where you never
need to have a fear of being stoned or shot?”
Looking up, she saw Harold riding off on a pet horse he used to own,
while the Prince was petting an elephant he used to ride in processions
in Siam. The Princess had her arms around the neck of a gazelle and all
this time Mercury stood near smiling to see them all so happy.
“Oh mercy! here comes a bear out of the woods,” cried the Princess as
she ran toward the Prince for protection. But Mercury quieted her fears
by telling her that it was perfectly harmless as were all the rest of
the animals here, even to the usually ferocious Bengal tigers.
“I am sorry, but am afraid I must hurry you,” said Mercury, “if you wish
to visit all the places yet to be seen.”
“Oh! do we have to go?” said Ione. “I am so sorry to leave my old pets
so soon. I would dearly like to take them back to Earth with me.”
“So do I feel sorry to part with them so soon,” said the Prince; “but it
is a great comfort to know that they all live again and that we shall
see them again some day.”
Then away they all flew. Their next stopping place, Mercury told them,
was to be the Frost King’s Isle.
Directly over the North Pole is the island of the Frost King, glistening
in the sun like countless diamonds, one mass of pure white snow, frost
and ice. Every tree is draped with lace-like festoons of frost and ice;
every river is clear as crystal and frozen hard; while the Ice King’s
palace is built of blocks of glistening ice. Before the entrance are
couchant lions of solid ice. The carving round doors and windows, like
chiseled marble apples, pears, and grapes, was all done by Jack Frost.
The people of the Isle were dressed in white furs. The only animals were
white polar bears, white spitz dogs, and white birds. The combined
effect of all this dazzling white was beautiful as a dream, and all was
greatly enhanced when colored lights were seen twinkling under the
snow-capped windows.
As our travelers sped past, Ione said, “This is the coldest region we
ever saw, now please show us the hottest one you have.”
“Very well,” Mercury replied. “Wish yourselves over the equator on the
Isle of Fire and you will find yourselves in a warmer place than you
have even dreamed of.” Almost before this wish had been formed they
found themselves gasping for breath on the Fire Island.
All around them were bonfires, while in the distance a volcano belched
forth fire and hot lava. The streams were liquid fire, with blue flames
rising from them, and the shores of the rivers were red hot sand. They
did not tarry long on this Isle for their human lungs could not endure
the heat for long and they begged to be taken away before they
suffocated.
The next place they visited was the Isle of Vinegar, so named because
everything there was sour. The faces of all the people looked wrinkled,
sour and yellow from eating so many sour things and drinking nothing but
lemonade and lime juice. After taking a drink of lemonade without any
sugar in it (for sugar is unknown in this land) our young friends
started on their way for the Milky Way.
“I am glad that people on Earth like more than one thing. It is much
nicer having a variety of things, sweet, sour, bitter and medium than
all one kind. After all, medium things and people are generally best.
Those who are not too gentle, too cross, too learned, too stupid, too
lively, too quiet but are a combination of each and all, these are the
most congenial people to live with,” sagely remarked Ione.