contentment, when all at once a quiver passed through the crowd, and
before Kelch had time to wink, the Golden Goblin, with his eyes blazing
with rage, stood before him, looking uglier than ever.
“Ho! ho!” cried the Goblin furiously; “it is you who are trying to rob
me of my subjects—but I’ll give you to the King of Fire. Seize him at
once!”
A crowd of grotesque goblins, all very like their master, rushed forward
and tried to seize Kelch, but he sprinkled them with the magic water,
which burnt like fire, and they all tumbled back in a confused mass. The
Golden Goblin stamped with rage, but was afraid to come near Kelch, lest
he also should be sprinkled with the water of contentment.
“What do you want?” he shouted, as Kelch paused for a moment. “I told
you we would meet again—but what do you want?”
“You know well enough,” retorted Kelch coolly. “I want Filina—you stole
my Filina from me.”
“She’s mine now,” said the Goblin in a grumbling tone, “and I’m going to
give her as a bride to the King of Fire; besides, I paid you well for
her—you took a lot of gold.”
“Yes, but that was a present,” cried Kelch hotly. “I never said I would
let you steal my future wife; I want Filina, not your gold.”
“Don’t want gold!” said the Goblin in astonishment; “you are the first
mortal I ever heard say that.”
“I’ve got no time to talk,” observed Kelch, raising the phial, “so if
you don’t give me back my Filina, I’ll leave you without a single
subject.”
“Stop, stop!” cried the Goblin in consternation; “don’t do that. Come
with me to my palace, and I will give you back your Filina—on
conditions.”
“I won’t make any conditions,” said Kelch, as they walked along; “I want
my Filina, and nothing else.”
The Golden Goblin grinned angrily at this, but as Kelch had the phial,
and could make his subjects vanish, he was afraid to say anything as
they glided rapidly along to the palace. It was gliding and not walking,
for Kelch found that though his legs did not move, still he seemed to be
approaching nearer to the great gold castle in which the Goblin held his
court.
It was all built of shining gold, with innumerable towers, and huge
windows of diamond glass. There was a great flight of steps leading to
the front door, and the Goblin ran up these, followed by Kelch, until at
length they came to a great hall with many golden pillars, and an
immense domed roof all glittering with jewels.
The Goblin went to the end of this hall, and, having seated himself upon
his throne, which was cut out of one gigantic diamond, he offered Kelch
a goblet filled with liquid gold.
“I won’t drink that,” said Kelch, and dashed the goblet out of the
little man’s hand.
“Just as well you refused,” replied the Goblin complacently, pointing to
a golden statue that stood near the throne, “or you would have become
like that.”
Kelch turned to examine the statue, and saw to his grief that it was
pretty Filina thus changed. Every hair of her head, every fold of her
dress was there, but she was nothing but a stiff golden statue.
“I can’t take my Filina back like this,” he cried, turning to the
Goblin, who sat on his throne grinning at Kelch’s sorrow.
“I don’t mean you to,” retorted the Goblin; “it’s far too valuable a
statue to give to you.”
“Filina is still more valuable.”
“Would you rather have Filina than all that gold?”
“Yes, a thousand times!” said Kelch boldly.
The Goblin looked rather discomfited at this, and nodded several times
as if puzzled.
“You’re too good for me,” he observed at length; “I can gain no power
over you. But if I give you back Filina, how am I to pay my yearly
tribute to the King of Fire? If I don’t do it, he will burn all my
kingdom to cinders.”
“He can’t burn it to cinders when it’s all gold,” cried Kelch; “but
can’t I find you a substitute for Filina?”
“Ah, that’s a good idea!” screamed the goblin, while all his ugly little
courtiers jumped with joy at this solution of the problem. “Bring me
Hocky, and I’ll give you Filina.”
“But what will you do to Hocky?” asked Kelch anxiously, for even to
rescue Filina he was unwilling to bring harm to any one else.
“I’ll give him to the King of Fire.”
“But he’ll be burnt up.”
“Only the bad part of him,” said the Golden Goblin; “all that is good in
him will not be touched by the fire. When he is quite purified by the
fire, he will be allowed to return to earth again, and instead of being
a bad man as he is now, he will be very good.”
“In that case I don’t mind,” replied Kelch, much relieved. “But how am I
to give you Hocky in exchange for Filina?”
“Oh, that’s easily done,” said the Goblin, holding out to Kelch a cup
filled with some liquor which sparkled like diamonds. “Drink this, and
you will be immediately transported back to your cottage. There you will
find Filina, who will still be a statue of gold. Get Hocky to pull off
the ring that is on her finger and put it on one of his own, then Filina
will become flesh and blood once more, and Hocky will vanish.”
“Where to?” asked Kelch, taking the cup of diamond water from the
Goblin.
“Down here,” replied the Goblin, grinning; “then I’ll give him to the
King of Fire, and when all the bad is burnt out of him, he’ll go back to
earth again. Come, drink up.”
“No tricks,” said Kelch, placing the goblet to his lips.
“On the honour of a king,” answered the Goblin, placing his yellow hand
on his yellow breast; “but be quick, for there’s no time to be lost.”
So Kelch drained the goblet to the dregs, and as he did so all the
golden palace seemed to spin round and round as he fell down on the
ground. He knew nothing more that happened till he woke up, feeling
quite bright and gay, when he found himself lying on the floor of his
own cottage, and the morning sun shining through the window.
III.
KELCH REGAINS FILINA.
FINDING himself at home, Kelch jumped to his feet with a cry, for at the
end of the room he saw the golden statue of Filina standing in the
sunlight, with outstretched arms, as if she were imploring him to
release her from the enchantment. Kelch hurried forward and saw the
magic ring was still on her finger, but it looked too firmly fixed to
pull off, and although he tried, he could not get it away. The only
thing to be done was to bring Hocky to the cottage and let him try, and
as the Goblin had fulfilled his promise of placing both Kelch and the
statue at home, the youth had no doubt that everything else would soon
come all right.
He hurried out into the open air, and found all the villagers returning
from the fields for their noonday meal. They scowled at Kelch as he
passed, and asked how a wicked magician like him dared to return to the
village from whence he had been driven.
Kelch, however, never minded their anger, but ran to the village green,
where he found Hocky talking to Filina’s father.
“Here’s that wicked magician!” cried Hocky when he saw Kelch, for he
hated the youth almost as much as the villagers hated himself. “Drive
him away.”
“He robbed me of my daughter,” said Filina’s father, lifting up his
staff, as the men and women of the village broke into murmurs of anger.
“I have come back to restore her,” said Kelch boldly; “and if you come
with me to my cottage, you will find her there.”
On hearing this, Filina’s father, followed by Hocky and all the
villagers, hastened to the cottage, and there they saw the golden
statue.
“It is my daughter sure enough!” cried Filina’s father, with tears in
his eyes; “but she is changed into gold.”
“Would you rather have your daughter living, or her golden statue?”
asked Kelch, looking at the old man.
“Say the golden statue,” whispered Hocky, pulling the father’s sleeve.
“No, no!” cried Filina’s father, shaking his head; “no gold would
recompense me for the loss of my daughter.”
“But your daughter is going to marry me,” said Hocky.
“Yes, that is true,” replied the old man.
“Then I would rather have her as a golden statue,” shrieked Hocky
avariciously, approaching Kelch.
“You hear what he says!” cried Kelch: “I love Filina for herself, Hocky
loves her because she is turned to gold, and would rather see the father
unhappy than let her be alive again.”
“She’s mine,” said Hocky rudely, getting in front of the golden statue;
“I have her father’s word, and all this gold is my own.”
“What will you do with her?” asked Filina’s father tremulously.
“Melt her down into broad gold pieces,” roared Hocky, dancing; “into the
furnace she shall go.”
“What! melt my daughter!” said the old man in a wrathful tone. “Never!
You shall not have her—sooner than that I’ll give her to Kelch.”
“Keep your promise, and I’ll change her into a living woman once more,”
cried Kelch eagerly. “I love your daughter for her own sake.”
“Give me my daughter once more, and you will be her husband,” said
Filina’s father quickly.
“No—no!” yelled Hocky; “the statue is mine—mine!”
“What do you all say?” said Kelch, turning to the villagers. “You drove
me from my home because you said I was a magician; now I have brought
back Filina, and can restore her to life, so you see I am not so bad as
you thought I was.”
“You shall be her husband!” cried the villagers; “we believe you to be a
good lad.”
“If you give him the golden statue, I’ll ruin the whole village!” cried
Hocky in a rage. “You know I can do it.”
And indeed it was the truth, for Hocky had lent the villagers a lot of
money, and in return they had given over their lands and houses to him,
so he was really owner of the whole place. All the villagers were
dismayed at this, and Filina’s father began to weep, for he thought he
would never hear his daughter’s merry voice again, when Kelch spoke.
“I’ll restore Filina to life and get rid of Hocky, if you withdraw your
accusations of my being a magician.”
“Yes, yes!” they all cried; “you are no magician—you are a good man, and
shall marry Filina.”
“And how will you get rid of me?” asked Hocky, angrily turning to Kelch.
“By giving you more gold than you ever saw before in your life,” replied
Kelch. “Will you agree to that?”
“Yes, I will,” replied Hocky greedily, “if you give me more gold than
I’ve got, and more gold than there is in this statue of Filina.”
“Very well,” observed Kelch; “in order to see more gold than you ever
saw in your life, all you’ve got to do is to pull that ring off Filina’s
finger and place it on your own.”
“Hurrah!” cried Hocky, turning to the statue. “I’ll do it at once.”
[Illustration]
He pulled the ring off the finger of the statue with the greatest ease,
and slipped it on his own with a greedy laugh, when suddenly there was a
loud crash like thunder, and Hocky vanished into air, while Filina, once
more a bright, laughing girl, hastened forward to kiss her father.
“Where is Hocky?” asked all the villagers, when they had congratulated
Filina.
“Gone where he’ll never trouble you again,” replied Kelch, with a laugh,
taking his sweetheart in his arms. “Now, am I to marry Filina?”
“Yes, yes! Hurrah!” every one cried.
Then Filina put on her bridal dress, all the village was decked with
flags, the school children received a half-holiday, and Kelch married
his sweetheart that afternoon.
They lived long and happily together, and when Filina’s father died, he
left them all his property, and the gold Kelch had brought from the
castle of the Wicked Baron. Hocky never came back again, which made
Kelch think that he must have had a lot of bad in him, as it took such a
long time to burn out.
Kelch paid a visit to the oak tree and thanked the kind Owl; when she,
hearing that the Wicked Baron’s castle was in ruins, left her oak tree
and went to live there, where no doubt she is still.
Kelch and Filina lived happily ever afterwards, and had lots of
children, to whom their father often told the story of his adventures
with the Golden Goblin.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE ENCHANTED FOREST.
I DO not know how long I was in King Oberon’s library, as, being very
much interested in the books, I took no notice of the flight of time.
But reading becomes wearisome even in Faeryland, so, feeling rather
tired with study, I lay down beside the marble-encircled pool, and fell
fast asleep on the soft green carpet. The delightful stories I had been
reading still ran in my head, for my slumber was filled with the most
charming dreams. I seemed to see beautiful faces smiling at me from amid
masses of golden clouds, long ranges of marble colonnades stretching far
away in dazzling whiteness against a dark blue sky, mighty ranges of
mountains with snowy summits roseate with the flush of sunsets, and
sombre Egyptian temples, wherein lovely priestesses danced their mystic
dances before the unseen fane of the sacred Isis. All these wonderful
pictures passed through my visionary brain, blending one into the other
in inextricable confusion, while strains of the most delicious music
kept rising and falling at intervals during this strange phantasmagoria
of dreamland.
At length the music grew louder and louder, until I slowly opened my
eyes to find myself once more in the enchanted forest, lying on the cool
green grass, with the dark blue sky silvered with stars above me, and
the thin pale moonlight shining down on the solemn trees and glimmering
pool. The music had now words to its melody, for a choir of faery
voices, clear and distinct as the sound of tiny silver bells, sang as
follows:
“In the moonshine cold and chill,
Nightingale
To the woods so calm and still
Tells her tale.
Dance the fairies one and all
Lightly at the elfin ball,
To her singing’s dying fall.
In the moonshine chill and cold,
Oberon
Will the fairy revels hold;
So begone
Mortal, who with daring eye
Elfish dances would espy.
Mocking our solemnity.”
After listening drowsily to this song for some time with half-closed
eyes, I sat up and saw that the whole glade was alive with faeries all
running hither and thither, evidently preparing for the coming of King
Oberon. As I had been warned in this song to depart, I did not know very
well whether they meant it or not, when suddenly Phancie, now reduced to
his former size, appeared before me, and I put the question to him.
“It’s not usual to allow any mortal to view our revels,” he said
thoughtfully; “still, as the King allowed you to see his library,
perhaps he will let you stay a little while, so you can wait till he
appears.”
“Has no mortal ever beheld the faery revels?” I asked, after thanking
Phancie for his kindness.
“Yes—one Shakespeare,” he answered, nodding his head: “long, long ago
the King allowed him to see our solemnity; but he told all about it to
the world, which made the King very angry.”
“But he told it so beautifully,” I pleaded.
“I don’t know so much about that,” responded Phancie saucily. “He said
Oberon and Titania quarrelled, which is quite a mistake, for they are
very fond of one another. Oh, I assure you the affair caused quite a
scandal at court; since then the King mistrusts all mortals, and won’t
allow them to see anything.”
“Perhaps, then, he’ll send me away.”
“I can’t tell, but it’s very probable he will; or perhaps he will let
you stay, and then cause you to forget all you have seen, except what he
wishes you to remember.”
“I hope he won’t make me forget the stories I have read.”
“No, he won’t do that; he said you could remember seven, and he never
goes back from his word; but as to remembering our revels, I’m afraid he
won’t let you do that. But hush! the court is approaching. Go and sit on
that fallen tree again.”
I arose obediently, and, walking across the glade to the tree, sat down
on it; then, warned by Phancie, kept quite silent.
“You mustn’t speak unless the King asks you a question,” said Phancie
pompously. “If he does, be sure to address him as ‘Your Majesty.’”
“I won’t forget,” I replied, and then Phancie, having seen all was in
order to receive the King, skipped off to meet the procession, which was
now approaching.
Between two great rose-bushes, which formed a triumphal arch of
beautiful red blossoms, came a company of merry little faeries, blowing
through white trumpet-shaped lilies, followed by a number of crickets
creaking in the most lively manner; then came a band of elves ringing
bunches of bluebells, which chimed silver music; next marched some fays
dressed in thistle down, playing with blades of grass on drums made of
empty acorn cups with rose leaves stretched tightly across them; a
company of fierce-looking bumble-bees carrying thorns for swords came
next; and then a number of beautiful girl faeries in lily-white dresses
danced along, singing gaily. After these appeared Oberon and Titania,
riding upon two purple-winged butterflies, and the rear of the
procession was guarded by a company of soldier elves, and lastly a
disorderly crowd of faeries, who played a thousand merry tricks upon one
another as they ran along.
When the King and Queen of Faeryland arrived near the pool, Oberon
struck the ground with his magic wand, and immediately there bloomed a
great white lily, on the golden cushions of whose heart the royal pair
took their seat, while all the faeries disposed themselves around
according to their rank, and the elfin band played merry music, which
rang shrilly in the night air. From all sides of the glade now appeared
beautiful white rabbits with pink eyes, lithe brown hares, velvety
moles, spiky-looking hedgehogs, and many other strange animals, while
thrushes, nightingales, linnets, cuckoos, and doves perched among the
branches of the trees.
The King and Queen were much taller than their subjects, and Oberon was
dressed in a green hunting-suit, with a crown of dewdrops on his head
and a silver wand in his hand; while Titania wore a delicate pink robe
made entirely of rose leaves, and her golden hair streamed from under a
wreath of lilies of the valley, a spray of the same flowers being in her
tiny hand.
When the royal pair had taken their seats, a loud-voiced cricket chirped
loudly to command silence, and then a wise-looking owl made a very long
speech, in which he bade the King and Queen welcome in the name of their
dutiful subjects. The King was about to reply, when a grotesque figure
with a large head and pointed ears suddenly started up out of the earth,
and rolled like a ball to the foot of the throne.
“Ah, my merry Puck!” said Oberon, laughing at the jester of Faeryland;
“where have you been?”
“Plaguing mortals, please your Majesty!” cried Puck, bounding on to the
top of a great mushroom, where he sat grinning at every one. “I have
played Will-o’-the-Wisp on marshy ground to lead unwary wanderers
astray; pinched the lazy maids who lie slug-a-bed; frightened those
foolish mortals who believe not in faeries; drank the milk, spoiled the
butter, teased the cows, and played merry jokes everywhere.”
“Ah, rogue!” said Oberon, smiling; “thou wert ever cruel in thy pranks.
Some day mortals will punish thee.”
“No, no,” said Puck, shaking his head; “why, they don’t believe faeries
exist.”
“You hear?” sighed Oberon, looking at me gravely; “you mortals don’t
believe faeries exist.”
“I do, your Majesty,” I answered eagerly; “and when I return to earth, I
will do my best to convince other people. Besides, sire, children always
believe in faeries.”
“Yes, the dear children!” cried Titania brightly; “they are our best
friends. Ah, children will always believe in us, although they do not
see us.”
“If you would only show yourselves sometimes,” I suggested, “it would
make every one believe.”
“I don’t think so,” said Oberon, smiling; “you see your wonderful
grown-up people have proved conclusively that there are no faeries, so
it would be quite an impertinence for us to appear and upset all their
fine theories.”
“It might make their hearts better, your Majesty,” I ventured to remark.
“I doubt it,” replied the King of Faery. “With you it is all greed of
money, pursuit of pleasure, and desire of learning; there is no room in
your lives to believe that beings like us exist; we can be turned to no
practical use, therefore you mortals regard us as unnecessary
existences. But while the world moves on, there will always be bright,
happy children who will keep our memories fresh and green in their
hearts, and perhaps some day, when the world returns to its childlike
faith of old, we may once more appear to mortals.”
“Meanwhile”—I began.
“Meanwhile,” repeated Oberon a little sadly, “you will go back to earth
and write down the seven stories you have read in my library; when good
children read them they may perhaps find out their hidden meaning, and
it will make them wiser and more obedient. Tell your child friends that
faeries do nothing without having some good end in view, and if they
want to please us, they must try and be noble and good, for there is
nothing so hateful in the world as wickedness. And now, mortal, I will
permit you to see a faery dance, and then you must leave us for ever.”
“For ever?”
“Unless,” said the King graciously, “you revisit us in your beautiful
dreams. Good-bye, mortal, good-bye:
“Though years may bring thee pain and grief,
In airy elves still have belief,
While thou of earth art denizen.
And may thou ever think as truth
The lovely idle dreams of youth:
This is the Faeries’ benison.”
Then from the elfin band rang out sweet, wild music, and on the smooth
greensward the merry faeries danced lightly in the pale moonshine. They
whirled in and out, swayed into graceful circles, and melted away like
foam on the crest of an emerald wave, floated in long wreaths which
wavered and broke as breaks the mist on snow-peaked mountains, blended
together again in picturesque confusion, while sweet and shrill sounded
the weird music, blown through the warm air of the summer night. The
perfume of a thousand flowers arose from the ground, strange blossoms
bloomed suddenly under the flying feet of the elves, and round and round
the lily throne of gracious Oberon and airy Titania whirled the elfin
circle, singing their farewell song to the sweet voices of the birds:
“Flashing stars and silver moon
Waning in the western skies;
Crimson is the east, and soon
Will the orb of day arise.
Chilly blows the morning breeze,
Dewdrops glitter on the lawn;
Through the branches of the trees
Flushes now the rosy dawn.
Idle faery dreams have fled,
Not a moment can they wait;
Visions of the night are dead,
Sleep has barred her ivory gate.
But when silver moonlight gleams,
Close your eyes, O poet true,
Then from Faeryland of dreams
We will come again to you.”
And through the branches of the trees shone the red glare of the dawn,
which seemed to come nearer and nearer. The great boughs with their
myriad leaves faded into the angry scarlet, a veil of darkness enveloped
me, and, awaking with a start, I found myself seated in my arm-chair in
the shadowy room, with the fire burning redly in the grate.
Even the cricket had ceased to sing, and outside the white snowflakes
still fell, and the wind whistled shrilly round the house. Was it a
dream? Maybe! for it is only in dreams, dear children, that we can ever
hope to visit Faeryland, where dwell all those lovely fancies and
beautiful thoughts which form your enchanted world; but the child who
has once visited the wonderful realm of gracious Oberon must try never
to forget what he has seen, so that, when he becomes a grown-up person,
he can remember his childish glimpse of the delightful Kingdom of
Faeryland.
[Illustration]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Transcriber’s Notes
Pg. 30 - Closing single quote changed to double to match opening quote.
Pg. 30 - Added colon to paragraph end, seems to be a trace in the scan.
Pg. 71 - Closing single quote changed to double to match opening quote.
Pg. 76 - Corrected typo: “... gold box from Salmander” > “Salamander”
Pg. 79 - Period added at end of paragraph instead of comma.
Pg. 104 - Missing period added. Extra spaces in original but no period.
Pg. 105 - Opening single quote changed to double to match opening
quote.
Pg. 130 & 131 - Rose Princess changed to Rose-Princess to match style.
Pg. 141 - “Mirvenetta” changed to “Minervetta,” as that conforms to the
latter, more likely, mention.
Pg. 155 - Closing single quote changed to double to match opening
quote.
Pg. 163 - Added opening quote to match end quote in poem.
Aside from the above, archaic and non-standard spelling and
inconsistent hyphenation have been retained.