{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_75499/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_75499","id":"gutenberg_75499","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/75499","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Children's poetry","Fairy tales"],"text":"By Abbie Farwell Brown\n\n\n  THE STAR JEWELS AND OTHER WONDERS. Illustrated. Square 12mo, $1.00.\n\n  THE FLOWER PRINCESS. Illustrated. Sq. 12mo, $1.00.\n\n  THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS. Illustrated. Square 12mo, $1.10, _net_.\n    Postpaid, $1.21.\n\n  A POCKETFUL OF POSIES. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.00, _net_. Postpaid,\n    $1.09.\n\n  IN THE DAYS OF GIANTS. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.10, _net_. Postpaid,\n    $1.21. _School edition_, 50 cents, _net_, postpaid.\n\n  THE BOOK OF SAINTS AND FRIENDLY BEASTS. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.25.\n\n  THE LONESOMEST DOLL. Illustrated. Sq. 12mo, 85 cents, _net_.\n    Postpaid, 95 cents.\n\n  HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.\n  BOSTON AND NEW YORK\n\n\n\n\n  THE STAR JEWELS AND OTHER\n  WONDERS\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: WAVILOCKS AND THE CRAB (Page 10)]\n\n\n\n\n  THE STAR JEWELS\n  AND OTHER WONDERS\n\n  BY\n  ABBIE FARWELL\n  BROWN\n\n  PICTURES BY ETHEL C. BROWN\n\n  [Illustration]\n\n  BOSTON AND NEW YORK\n  HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY\n  The Riverside Press, Cambridge\n  1905\n\n\n\n\n  COPYRIGHT 1905 BY ABBIE FARWELL BROWN\n\n  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED\n\n  _Published September 1905_\n\n\n\n\n_To the Mermaid of the Pink Grotto_\n\n\n\n\nThanks are due to the publishers of _The Churchman_ for permission\nto reprint \u201cThe Star Jewels,\u201d \u201cThe Balloon Boy,\u201d \u201cTrees,\u201d and \u201cChild\nor Fairy;\u201d to _The Interior_ for \u201cKarl and the Dryad;\u201d and to _The\nCongregationalist_ for \u201cThe Green Cap.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n  \u201cWhy nature loves the number five,\n  And why the star-form she repeats.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nFORE-WORD\n\n\n  In the land of Far-away,\n    In the time of Used-to-be,\n  Wonders happened, so folk say,\n    Which we all should like to see.\n\n  But perhaps, if we knew how,\n    In the pleasant land of Here,\n  In the lovely time of Now,\n    We could witness sights as queer.\n\n  Oh, for Faith without an end,\n    And the blessed eyes to see!\n  Let us beg the Fairies send\n    Such a gift to You and Me.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n  _Stories_\n                                          PAGE\n    THE STAR JEWELS                          1\n\n    THE BALLOON BOY                         23\n\n    THE GREEN CAP                           41\n\n    KARL AND THE DRYAD                      65\n\n    THE INDIAN FAIRY                        95\n\n\n  _Rhymes_\n\n    FOREWORD                                ix\n\n    OCEAN WONDERS                           21\n\n    BALLOONS                                40\n\n    CHILD OR FAIRY                          64\n\n    TREES                                   93\n\n    FAIRIES                                134\n\n\n  _Pictures_\n\n    WAVILOCKS AND THE CRAB      _Frontispiece_\n\n    THE LITTLE MAN                          31\n\n    THE OLD WOMAN IS SURPRISED              55\n\n    KARL AND THE DRYAD                      73\n\n    ROB AND THE INDIAN FAIRY               131\n\n\n\n\nTHE STAR JEWELS\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTHE STAR JEWELS\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a little mermaid who lived down at the\nbottom of the sea in a cave of pink coral. Her cheeks were as pink\nas the coral itself; her teeth were like a row of the pearls which\nhung around her neck; and her hair--which was very long and wavy--was\nas green as the greenest seaweed you ever saw. And though green hair\nsounds strange to us, it was accounted a mermaid\u2019s greatest beauty.\nHer name was Wavilocks. Also she had instead of two rosy feet a funny\nlittle scaly tail with which she steered herself through the water. She\nwas a famous swimmer.\n\nWavilocks was a pretty little mermaid, and old Triton, her father,\ndoted upon her and spoiled her, as foolish papas sometimes do. He gave\nhis little daughter everything that she wanted,--everything in the\nwide ocean which a sea-child could wish. She had her own little coral\nplayroom, with its toys of shell and sponge; and her pets among the\nfishes and curious ocean creatures. She had a living flower-garden\nof beautiful sea anemones, pink and purple, yellow and red. She had\na little chariot all her own, in which to ride about the sea, like\nthe grown-up ocean folk. It was of pinky, pearl-lined shell, most\nbeautiful, and it was drawn by a span of sea-horses, the sweetest\nlittle fellows in the whole kingdom of Neptune.\n\nShe had also the prettiest things for her toilet,--golden combs, with\nwhich to comb her long green hair, mirrors of polished pearl, and\nfans of coral, scarves of silky seaweed, and ornaments of shell. But\nthe thing of which she was most proud was the beautiful necklace of\npearls which her father had given her. All the mermaids wore lovely\nnecklaces, but Wavilocks had the most beautiful of any. Old Triton,\nwho knew every cave and corner of the sea, had scoured and scraped the\nocean treasuries to find the finest pearls for his little daughter.\nShe wore always about her neck a long rope of them, wound around and\naround, such as the Sea Queen herself could not match. Some of the\npearls were as big as kernels of corn; some were as big as grapes; and\na few were like hen\u2019s eggs, as large and smooth, and twice as white as\nthe whitest. Nobody ever saw such pearls as Wavilocks wore about her\nneck every day of her life. The sea-mothers found fault with doting old\nTriton, and said he had no business to let a little mermaid wear such\ngorgeous jewels. But when he told Wavilocks of this, she chuckled and\nsaid that they were jealous because they had no such jewels themselves.\nShe may have been partly right about this, but they were right too in\nwhat they said.\n\nNow you would think that Wavilocks must have been contented and happy\nin her lovely home, where she had everything that a little mermaid\ncould wish. And she was happy so long as she could have her own way.\nBut there came a time when she could not have her own way, and then she\ngrew sulky and discontented. For days and days she moped in her coral\nplayroom, and nothing that poor old Triton could do made her smile.\n\nWhat do you suppose she wanted? She had happened to sit up one night\nlater than a little young mermaid should, and she had seen the diamond\nstars twinkling in the sky. She wanted them for a necklace! She\ndeclared that she _must_ have them for a necklace. She was tired of her\nbeautiful rope of pearls, and vowed that she would not wear it any more\nunless she could have the starry one to wear with it. This made poor\nTriton very unhappy, for he had taken great pride in his beautiful gift\nto his little daughter, but now she cared nothing at all for it, and\ndemanded something which he could not give her.\n\nThe naughty little mermaid teased and wept and refused to be good. \u201cI\nshall cry always, always, until I have those lovely stars. Boo-hoo!\u201d\nshe sobbed. Her father was at his wit\u2019s end. He worried and worried\nbecause it would be dreadful to have Wavilocks always crying for\nsomething which he could not give her. He worried until his green hair\nbegan to turn white, and his poor old eyes looked as wild as those of a\ncuttle-fish. Then he said to himself:\n\n\u201cI will go to King Neptune and see whether he can help me or no.\nPerhaps he will tell me how I can get the stars from the sky for\nWavilocks, for I am sure I do not know.\u201d\n\nThat very night Triton went to the King\u2019s beautiful palace in the\ndeepest, greenest part of the sea, and told him how his little daughter\nneeded a starry necklace which he could not get for her. And he begged\nthe Sea King to tell him what must be done. But Neptune looked very\nstern.\n\n\u201cTell your child,\u201d he said, pulling his sea-green beard, which waved to\nand fro in the water, \u201ctell her that she is an ungrateful daughter, and\nthat I forbid her to think any longer of the far-off jewels. Already\nshe has the most beautiful necklace in the sea,--such a one as not\neven my Queen can match. A starry necklace is fit only for the Sky\nQueen to wear. No other may possess those wonderful jewels. There are\nfair enough gems in the sea for any mermaid\u2019s use. If she cannot be\ncontent with them she shall be punished.\u201d\n\nOld Triton was alarmed at these words, for he could not bear to think\nof his dear daughter being punished. Very sadly he went home, and very\nsadly he told Wavilocks what the King had said.\n\n\u201cHe does not wish me to have the starry necklace, because the Queen has\nnone,\u201d pouted the naughty little mermaid. \u201cBut I must have it, I _will_\nhave it, or I shall cry always and always.\u201d\n\nInstead of spanking her, as he should have done, Triton only shook his\nhead and said sadly,--\n\n\u201cI would gladly give it to you if I might, dear daughter. But the King\nhas spoken. The stars are not for you; you must not even think of them\nagain. Never go out when they are shining in the sky. Be a good girl,\nand to-morrow I will bring you a beautiful new coral belt, such as no\nmermaid ever before wore.\u201d\n\nBut Wavilocks sulked and sniffed and declared that she did not want\na coral belt, and she would not kiss her kind father good-night. He\nsighed and went away, poor merman, to his thinking-place in a rocky\ncavern.\n\nNow there was one creature who had overheard the talk between Wavilocks\nand her father, and his little eyes gleamed wickedly at mention of the\nstarry necklace. The Crab was the most evil of all the sea-creatures,\nand old Triton had forbidden Wavilocks ever to play with him or\nlisten to his words. The sea-folk hated the Crab because of his\nmischievousness and because of his wicked history. He had not always\nbeen the sneaking nuisance of the sea. Once, long before, he had lived\nin the sky. He was a cousin of the great Sky Crab, the guardian of\nthe star jewels, and once he too had helped to take care of them. But\nbecause he had tried to steal a few for his own use, the big Sky Crab\nhad indignantly cast him out of heaven, down to the lowest depths of\nthe sea. Oh, yes, the Crab knew all about the stars which Wavilocks so\nlonged to own!\n\nWavilocks had never been told this story, but she knew that she must\nnever have anything to do with the ugly, crawling fellow. And so, when\nshe heard his harsh voice close beside her cradle, she ought not to\nhave listened.\n\n\u201cHist!\u201d said the voice. \u201cHist!\u201d\n\nWavilocks knew who it was, and she knew that sly whisper meant\nmischief. She herself was feeling very naughty.\n\n\u201cWhat is it, Crab?\u201d she whispered.\n\n\u201cI have accidentally overheard what you were saying to Master Triton,\u201d\nhe hissed, \u201cand I do not blame you at all. The King is wrong. You,\nfairest Mermaid, ought to wear the starry necklace,--it is your right.\nThe jewels are said to be even more beautiful when closely seen. But\nthey are hardly fair enough for you!\u201d\n\nSo spoke the wicked old Crab with a flattering tongue. Wavilocks was\npleased. \u201cI should like to see them closely,\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cOne could climb up there, I think,\u201d said the Crab slyly.\n\n\u201cOh, how? Tell me how it can be done, dear Crab?\u201d cried Wavilocks\neagerly. The Crab winked one eye.\n\n\u201cThere is a silver staircase that leads up to the moon. Sometimes one\ncan see it, sometimes not. To-night it is very bright. The moon is a\nround silver doorway through which streams light, and beyond it is a\nbeautiful land where my cousin, the Sky Crab, lives and has charge of\nthe star jewels. I have always wanted to go up there and see him, but I\ndo not care to go alone. If I could find some one to go with me--\u201d The\nCrab stopped and sighed.\n\n\u201cOh, how I should like to go with you, Crab!\u201d exclaimed Wavilocks,\nsitting up on the edge of her cradle. \u201cBut my father and the King have\nforbidden me even to think of the starry jewels.\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense!\u201d whispered the Crab. \u201cCome with me to-night, and for my\nsake my cousin will give you all the stars you wish.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I dare not go!\u201d sighed Wavilocks. \u201cThe King will punish me for\ndisobeying him.\u201d\n\n\u201cPooh!\u201d snorted the Crab. \u201cHe would never know. Let us go this very\nnight. I long to see my dear cousin. I can scarcely wait another\nminute!\u201d (What a wicked story that was!)\n\nWavilocks slipped out of her cradle. \u201cI can hardly wait another minute\nto have those star jewels!\u201d she cried. \u201cYes, I will go. Come then, wise\nCrab, and show me the way.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will take you upon my back,\u201d said the Crab. \u201cWe shall travel faster\nso, since you have no feet for climbing.\u201d\n\nWavilocks seated herself upon his broad shell, and away he crawled, the\nwicked fellow, very stealthily, so as not to be seen by the grown-up\nsea people, and especially by old Triton.\n\nUp and up they went until they came to the surface of the sea, where\nthe big silver moon was shining upon the water, glorious and bright.\n\n\u201cLook where the flight of silver stairs comes down to the sea,\u201d said\nthe Crab, pointing with his claw. \u201cWe will climb up there, Wavilocks,\nand pay a visit to my dear cousin. How glad he will be to see us!\u201d And\nhe chuckled wickedly to think how he was going to repay the Big Crab\nfor having turned him out of the sky.\n\nOut to the bright spot upon the water where the silver moonbeam\nstaircase touched the sea crept the Crab, with Wavilocks upon his\nback. And no one saw them go. They reached the foot of the stairs and\nbegan to climb,--up and up, step by step, while the little mermaid\u2019s\ngreen hair streamed out behind. Her long pearl necklace she used as a\nbridle, and so she drove her strange steed up the steep way, until they\nreached the silver gateway of the moon. The door was open, and from the\nwonderful sky-land beyond the light streamed out, so that Wavilocks was\ndazzled. But she was even more dazzled when they had passed through\nthe gateway and came out upon the wide sky floor, where burned and\nflashed, with a thousand rainbow colors, the five-pointed star jewels\nwhich she had seen shining from afar.\n\n\u201cOh, the beautiful diamond stars!\u201d cried Wavilocks. \u201cLet us make haste\nto find your cousin, the Big Crab, that he may give us some for my\nnecklace.\u201d\n\nBut the Crab winked his eye. \u201cWe need not wait for that,\u201d he said. \u201cMy\ncousin loves me so well that I am sure of his generosity to you. Let\nus pick all we wish first, and then we will go to him. But hist! We\nmust be very quiet about it, or the other sky-people will learn what is\nbeing done, and will be jealous.\u201d\n\nThe two set eagerly to work, gathering up the jewels which lay\nsprinkled over the velvet sky-carpet like daisies in a meadow. The Crab\ngathered them star by star with his clumsy claw, as one would pick\nberries. Wavilocks scooped the five-pointed stars by handfuls, and\npoured them into the great conch shell which she had brought for the\npurpose, until it was brimming over with rainbow flashes.\n\n\u201cOh, what a wonderful necklace I shall have,--grander than any one ever\nsaw before!\u201d cried the greedy little mermaid.\n\n\u201cOh, how angry the old Crab will be when he sees how we have robbed his\ntreasure!\u201d chuckled her wicked companion to himself; and they went to\nwork even faster than before.\n\nSuddenly there was a loud noise behind them.\n\n\u201cWooh! Hooh!\u201d cried a terrible voice. \u201cRobbers, wretched robbers, what\nare you doing with my jewels?\u201d\n\nWavilocks screamed and the Sea Crab gave a snort of fear. There behind\nthem was the Big Crab, sprawling his enormous ugly shape among the\nstars. His great claws were snapping viciously, and his goggle eyes\nwere glaring at the pair, as he crawled nearer and nearer.\n\n\u201cIt is the Crab!\u201d gasped Wavilocks\u2019 companion. \u201cI am lost!\u201d and away he\nscuttled as fast as his claws would take him, while the little mermaid\nclung to his back as well as she could, for he had quite forgotten her.\nThen began a dreadful race to the shining staircase. The great Sky\nCrab clattered after them, puffing and blowing out fire.\n\n\u201cWicked Sea Crab,\u201d he cried, \u201cso it is you who again are seeking to\nrob me of the precious stars entrusted to my care. You have come up\nhere from your nasty, moist den in the sea, to which I tossed you.\nMoreover, you have brought this strange sea-creature to help you steal\nthe jewels. Ah! this time I will punish you both.\u201d\n\nThey could feel the flaming breath of the Big Crab. It scorched, it\nsizzled, it melted the hard shell of the Sea Crab until it became soft\nand useless. It crisped the mermaid\u2019s pretty green hair, which streamed\nout behind her in their rapid flight. Wavilocks screamed. Her awkward\nsteed hissed with terror, dislodging many stars from their settings\nas he scrambled among them. At last they were almost safe at the head\nof the staircase, when Wavilocks felt the great claw of the Big Crab\nseize the necklace of pearls which hung about her neck. Snap! The\nstring broke, and the pearls went flying helter-skelter over the sky,\nscattering themselves among the stars.\n\n\u201cMy necklace, oh, my necklace!\u201d wailed she, but they could not stop to\ngather up the lost pearls.\n\nThey had reached the stairs. The Crab plunged forward, and they tumbled\nand rolled and slid down from the sky to the sea, into which they fell\nwith a great splash. Glad enough they were to cool their poor scorched\nbodies in the wetness. Down, down, they sank together to the bottom of\nthe ocean, two very miserable creatures.\n\nNow the Crab had shriveled and shrunk and become the tiniest, most\npitiful little fellow you ever saw. Moreover he was now quite helpless\nand unprotected.\n\nFor his hard shell, which had served him as a shield against his\nenemies, was now melted and soft, and was no longer of any use to\nhim. He was at the mercy of the whole sea, which was indignant at his\nnew wickedness. Thenceforth he must slink and hide away wherever he\ncould, an outcast thief. He became the Hermit Crab, whom to-day one\nfinds borrowing the shells which other tiny creatures have abandoned,\ncreeping away into dim corners, and always carrying his home upon his\nback, because he is afraid to venture his poor, unprotected body out of\ndoors.\n\nNeptune decreed that the wicked Crab needed no other punishment worse\nthan this. As for Wavilocks, she also had been punished enough. The\nbeautiful green hair which had been her pride was scorched into an ugly\nbrown. Sobbing with shame, she cut it off--all its splendid length,\nand tossed it away into the sea. Sometimes you may find strands of it\nnowadays, washed ashore by the tide. Long, long afterward her green\nhair grew again; but for months and years she was laughed at and teased\nabout her short mop of brown hair, so unfashionable in the sea-kingdom.\nA sad little mermaid she was in those days. For not only had she\nlost her wavy locks, but the lovely rope of pearls was gone forever,\nscattered among the jewels of the sky. You can see some of them to this\nday if you look hard among the flashing stars; bright jewels they are,\nbut they do not twinkle like the others. The Big Crab now watches over\nthem also with his other treasures, and it would have to be a sly thief\nindeed who could steal them back again. Wavilocks must go without any\nnecklace, although the other mermaids wear theirs proudly. Yes, she has\nno necklace at all. For what do you think became of the stars which she\nwent so far to steal and had so sad a time in gathering?\n\nWavilocks had clung closely to the conch shell which held her stolen\ntreasure during all the terrible time of her fall down the silver\nstaircase. And when she came to the bottom of the sea she still held\nit fast. But alas! When the poor little scorched mermaid came to look\nat the stars which she had hoped to wear about her neck, she found\nthat they had sadly changed. The shell was full of something living,\nsomething squirming and cold. One by one she took out the five-pointed\nstars which had been so beautiful, and they had come alive; they were\nstar-fish! The first star-fish that had ever been seen in the ocean.\n\nHow Wavilocks screamed when the moist, writhing feelers touched her\nhand! So this was the end of the lovely necklace which she had hoped\nto wear so proudly,--a conch shell full of ugly, wriggling sea-stars.\nShe tossed them away as far as she could, and fled sobbing to her poor\nold father, who tried to comfort her, and forgot to punish her for\ndisobeying him.\n\nPoor little sea-stars! One cannot help pitying them, who used to be\nthe beautiful jewels of the sky. One sees them sometimes lying in the\npools, red and purple, blue, pink and yellow; beautiful colors indeed,\nsuch as jewels have, but no longer sparkling and clear, as once they\nwere. They lie and stare up wistfully through the green water, up at\nthe sky which was once their home, up at the other stars of which they\nwere once the shining brothers.\n\nAnd it was all the fault of the naughty little mermaid, who was not\nwise enough to know when she was happy.\n\n\n\n\nOCEAN WONDERS\n\n\n  Far below the purple waves,\n  In the hidden ocean caves,\n  Floating softly to and fro,\n  Wonder-creatures come and go.\n\n  Monsters hideous and queer,\n  Curious lovely shapes and dear\n  Dwell beneath the silent tide,\n  Where the rainbow fishes glide.\n\n  Who can say what things may be\n  In the mystic, magic sea?\n  In the depths so cool and green\n  Which no man has ever seen?\n  And what wonders happen there\n  Such as mortals may not share?\n\n  But a bit of pearly shell,\n  Or of sea-weed green, may tell\n  Just a hint of secret lore\n  As we walk along the shore.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BALLOON BOY\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTHE BALLOON BOY\n\n\nCarlo was the brown-skinned boy who stood on the corner of the Avenue\nevery morning with a great bunch of red and blue balloons tied to a\nstick. Carlo used to wait smiling for the children to come up with\ntheir nurses and pick out the balloons with which they loved to play.\nThe balloons bobbed and danced above Carlo\u2019s head as if they wanted to\nfly away. Indeed, one of them once succeeded in escaping, just after it\nhad been bought by little Johnny Parker. Johnny had forgotten to hold\nit tight, and _Pouf!_ Off it sailed over the trees. No one ever knew\nwhat became of that little red balloon, which soared up far beyond\nthe reach of Johnny\u2019s wailing. But the other little balloons were\nalways trying to follow after, and sometimes they pulled so hard at the\nstrings that they seemed almost ready to lift Carlo off his feet and\nbear him with them over the tree-tops.\n\nCarlo was a happy boy, for he had come from a happy country where the\npeople still believe in fairies, and he had not lived in this land long\nenough to catch the disease which makes one believe that there are \u201cno\nsuch things as the Little People.\u201d Carlo was a kind boy, and he loved\nthe little children who bought balloons of him and paid their pennies\ninto his rough, brown hand. Carlo had a little sister at home in the\nold country, and when he had earned money enough by selling red and\nblue balloons he meant to send for Nita to come and live with him, so\nthey could have a little home of their own.\n\nOne morning it rained hard, oh, very hard! Carlo did not go out to the\nAvenue, for he knew that the children would all stay indoors that day,\nplaying in their nurseries with their house toys. But in the afternoon,\nafter dinner-time, the rain cleared away and the sun came out, hot and\nbright and beautiful, so that the sidewalks were soon as dry as dry.\nThen Carlo took his bunch of balloons and trudged to the corner, where\nhe always stood. For he knew that all the nurses and all the babies,\ntired of being in the house, would soon be hurrying out for an airing\nin the Park. And of course they would need balloons.\n\nCarlo took up his station as usual on the corner where the Avenue stops\nshort before the high gates, and wishes it could go on into the Park.\nThis was where the children looked to find him every day, and he had\nnever yet disappointed them.\n\nIt was just the hour when the big boys are let out of school. Carlo had\nforgotten this. He did not like big boys. Suddenly--with a rush and a\nwhoop--a crowd of them came tearing around the corner from the next\nstreet. They raced up and down the Avenue, shouting and laughing and\nfull of mischief, for they had been shut up all this rainy day and\nwere glad to be out of doors once more. As they came running back down\nthe Avenue, one of them spied Carlo standing on the corner.\n\n\u201cHallo! Balloons!\u201d shouted the boy, and immediately the noisy crowd\nrushed upon Carlo and surrounded him.\n\n\u201cGive me a red one!\u201d\n\n\u201cHi! Blue\u2019s my color!\u201d\n\n\u201cPass me down a red one, quick, or I\u2019ll cut the whole string!\u201d But they\noffered him no money in exchange. Carlo held back, trying to defend his\nballoons from their snatching fingers. Then one boy cried,--\n\n\u201cHo! Let\u2019s cut the whole string, anyway, and see them go!\u201d And quick\nas a flash, before Carlo had time to do anything, a sharp penknife\nhad severed the string above the stick, and away went forty balloons,\nsailing over the trees merrily, glad to be free.\n\nThe boys gave a yell and danced up and down. But some one cried,\n\u201cLook out! Here\u2019s a policeman!\u201d and off they scampered in every\ndirection, before Carlo fairly knew what they had done. Yes, there was\na policeman, but he had not seen what had happened, and already he was\nturning the corner. Even if Carlo could catch up with him he could not\nspeak enough English to tell the man his troubles. Besides, not even a\npoliceman could bring back those flying balloons.\n\nPoor Carlo! No customers for him this day. He looked down at the bare\nstick in his hand, and then up to where he could just see some tiny\nspecks on the blue sky, far, far away. The balloons were seeking their\nlittle brother who escaped long before. Carlo\u2019s eyes filled with tears,\nfor he was not a very big boy, and this was a dreadful thing which had\nhappened to him. Already the procession of babies was coming down the\nAvenue, eager to buy Carlo\u2019s balloons. But he had nothing to sell them\nthis afternoon.\n\nSlowly and sadly he turned away and slunk down a side street toward\nanother entrance to the Park. But the children wondered what had become\nof their balloon boy, who was always waiting for them on the corner,\nsmiling pleasantly.\n\nCarlo wandered into the Park and walked about the twisting paths,\nwondering what he should do. He had no money to buy more balloons. How\ncould he start out afresh in business? He had sent his last earnings\nback across the water to the little sister in the land where they still\nbelieved in fairies, and she had saved almost enough to bring her here\nto him. But now, what was he to do now? How buy food and lodging, and\nespecially how buy more balloons with which to pile up future pennies?\n\nCarlo wandered about for a long time, thinking and puzzling, until the\nshadows began to lengthen, and it was almost night. Then he went to\na little arbor in the Park, far from the place where the nurses and\nchildren mostly gathered. It was a spot that he loved, for it was full\nof grape-vines, which reminded him of the beautiful home from which he\nhad come,--the country where the fairies still lived. He was very tired\nand hungry, and he curled up on a settee in the arbor and went to\nsleep.\n\n[Illustration: THE LITTLE MAN]\n\nHe must have slept a long time, for when he woke the Park was quite\ndark, save where the electric lights made queer patches of brightness\namong the leaves and on the grass and gravel walks. In the arbor itself\nhung a light which made the grape-vine with its half-ripened clusters\nlook strange but very beautiful.\n\nCarlo awoke with a start, for he had certainly felt something touch his\nknee. Yes! Carlo looked again, and rubbed his eyes. There at his knee\nstood a little man,--a little, thick man in a queer long gown, with\na rope about his waist,--one of the very same Little Men of whom his\nmother had often told him in the land across the sea!\n\n\u201cWhat is the matter, Carlo?\u201d asked the Little Man, in Carlo\u2019s own home\nlanguage. And Carlo answered in the same soft tongue:\n\n\u201cThe boys have cut my balloons away, and I have nothing left with which\nto earn my living, that I may send money to Nita.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is too bad!\u201d exclaimed the Little Man. \u201cWhat can we do about it?\u201d\n\nCarlo stared hard at him, for he had always wanted to see a Little Man.\nHis hat was tall and had a broad brim, and on his feet were sandals.\nHis brown gown clung tight about him, like the skin upon a russet\napple, seeming ready to burst with the plumpness inside. His cheeks,\ntoo, seemed ready to burst with laughing, even when Carlo told him the\nstory of the boys\u2019 wicked deed.\n\n\u201cThat is too bad!\u201d he cried again, but not sadly. \u201cWhat can we do about\nit?\u201d\n\nHe glanced thoughtfully around the arbor in which they were sitting.\nIt was a grape arbor, as I have said, and already the grapes were\nbeginning to turn red and purple in the autumn coolness, though some\nwere still green.\n\n\u201cThe bad boys will steal them,\u201d said the Little Man to himself,\nlooking at the grapes. \u201cThey will not bring good to any one, only\nstomach-aches.\u201d Carlo wondered what he could possibly mean. Still the\nLittle Man stared around the arbor, nodding his head slowly up and\ndown, as if making up his mind about something very important. At last\nhe turned to Carlo and asked suddenly,--\n\n\u201cDo you know where I came from?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Carlo. \u201cI have been wondering. You do not seem to belong to\nthis country at all.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t,\u201d said the Little Man. \u201cThey don\u2019t even believe in me here,\nso they never, never see me--how could they? The babies who play\nover there,\u201d--and he twisted his thumb toward the fountain and the\nsand-heap,--\u201ceven if they were to come in here now, could not see me.\nFor their stupid nurses have told them that I don\u2019t exist. Perhaps\nthere might be one or two who still believe; and of them I should have\nto be very careful. For I don\u2019t want to be discovered. But they do not\noften come here.\u201d\n\n\u201cI come here often,\u201d said Carlo.\n\n\u201cOf course,\u201d chuckled the Little Man, \u201cnaturally!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut how happens it that you are here?\u201d asked Carlo, eagerly.\n\n\u201cWhy, I came with you, to be sure. I am the Little Man of your father\u2019s\nhouse. And when you left the dear old country over the sea you brought\nme with you.\u201d The Little Man sighed. Carlo sighed too. But quickly he\nremembered to be polite. \u201cIt was very good of you to come,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cNot at all,\u201d answered the Little Man. \u201cI had to follow. Some of them\nbring poison creatures in the fruit which they sell,--tarantulas and\nscorpions. Some of them bring measles, and the evil-eye, and other\ndreadful things. But you brought _me_, and I have been watching over\nyou ever since. I am glad you come here every day, so I can live in\nthis very nice place. Now I am going to help you.\u201d\n\nCarlo thanked him, but he seemed not to hear. Nimbly as a squirrel he\nwas climbing up the vine which draped the arbor with its leaves and\ngrapes. Presently down he came again, and in his hand he held a fine\nbunch of grapes, purple and red and green.\n\n\u201cIt is not stealing,\u201d he said, in a whisper, \u201cfor this bunch has\nstopped ripening; I can tell by signs which a fairy knows. It would\nsoon wither, and would not even attract the bad boys. So I will use it\nfor my purposes. Now, please give me your stick.\u201d\n\nCarlo handed him the shorn stick, wondering. With a few deft knots the\nLittle Man tied the bunch of grapes to the handle, where the balloons\nused to bob.\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d he cried, nodding delightedly, \u201cThere you are! Now of course\nyou must go to sleep again. I cannot let you see how the last touches\nare done.\u201d He tapped Carlo three times on the forehead. Immediately\nCarlo\u2019s eyes began to close, his head nodded, and before he knew it he\nwas lying on the bench in the arbor, snoring lustily and forgetting all\nhis troubles.\n\nThen the Little Man must have done something very strange and wonderful\nand marvelous; though no one saw him, and so no one knows just what\nthat something was. But when in the morning Carlo awoke with a start, a\nbaby in a pink dress stood in the arbor holding out a little hand in\nwhich was a silver dime, and he was saying,--\n\n\u201cPlease, Boy, give me a _green_ balloon!\u201d\n\nCarlo jumped up and reached for the stick, which was propped between\nthe bars of the seat beside him. And what do you think? The bunch of\npurple and red and green grapes seemed to have grown and grown, and\nswelled and swelled, until each grape had turned into a beautiful big\nballoon of the same color! And that is why on that particular day\nCarlo had some green balloons in his bunch, although the children had\nnever seen any like them before. And he sold one to the pink baby, and\nothers to the other babies who came crowding around when he went out\nupon the Avenue, until the green balloons were all gone. For of course\nthe babies wanted the unusual kind first. But after that he sold off\nthe ordinary blue and red ones, and went home with his pockets full of\ndimes, and with nothing more on the end of his stick than when the bad\nboys let loose his bunch of balloons. But now there were no tears in\nhis eyes--no, indeed!\n\nNow I do not know just what happened next. But Carlo always looks\nsmiling and happy about something. The children buy his balloons every\nday, and every night he carries home a pocketful of silver. Carlo is\ngrowing rich. And now little Nita has come across the sea to be with\nhim. When the cold weather comes I daresay the Little Man will go to\nlive in their house, as he did in their old home in the land where\npeople still believe in fairies. But you may be sure that as long as\nhe can he will stay in the pretty grape-vine arbor. If you are one of\nthe wise children who believe in him, perhaps you will see him there\nyourself, some day. At any rate, whether you believe in the Little Man\nor not, if you go at the right time you will be sure to see the Balloon\nBoy, sitting on the bench and smiling happily at something, with the\nbunch of red and blue balloons bobbing over his head. And if you pay\nten cents you may have a balloon all for your own, which will tug and\ntug and will try to get away, just as little Johnny Parker\u2019s did.\n\n\n\n\nBALLOONS\n\n\n        Where do they go,\n        I want to know,\n  The little balloons which fly, and fly,\n  Over the trees and up so high\n        Into the sky?\n\n  Do they sail as far as Heaven\u2019s gate,\n  Where chubby cherubs watch and wait,\n  Who stretch out their hands with an eager cry\n  As the little balloons come floating by?\n\n  Do the cherubs play with the pretty things,\n  Flitting about on their baby wings,\n  While the little balloons bob to and fro,\n  Just as they did in the world below?\n\n  They never come back the tale to tell,\n  So no one knows what each befell.\n        But if they can stay\n        In that Land for aye,\n  Where the sun ever shines and the sky is blue,\n    I do not blame them for longing to fly\n  Over the trees and up so high;\n    And when mine goes I will not boo-hoo,--\n        Will you?\n\n\n\n\nTHE GREEN CAP\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTHE GREEN CAP\n\n\nOnce upon a time in the far East, where people live upon rice and tea,\na little old woman dwelt all alone in a tiny hut on the edge of the\nforest. The little old woman was very, very poor; but she was a brave\nsoul, and so long as there was a little tea in her little teapot, a\nlittle rice in her little rice bucket, and a little water in her well\nshe would smile a little smile and say, \u201cOh, I have enough, and that is\nall which any one needs in this world. I am doing very well indeed.\u201d\n\nBut there came an evil time for the poor little old woman. There was a\ndrought in the land, and all the wells ran dry. There was a famine,\nand no more rice nor tea were to be had for love or money. One night\nthe little old woman went about to get her evening meal and she was\nvery, very hungry. First she went to draw a dipper of water from the\nwell. But when she peered down into the well she saw that it was almost\ndry.\n\n\u201cAlack!\u201d she cried, \u201cwhen I have used this last dipper of water there\nwill be none left for to-morrow. After that I must go dry. And how long\ncan I live so?\u201d\n\nSlowly and sadly she went back to the house and took her little rice\nbucket down from the shelf on the wall. But when she opened it she saw\nonly a few grains of rice scantily covering the bottom of the bucket.\n\n\u201cAlack!\u201d she cried, \u201cwhen I have taken out the handful for my supper\nthere will be no more left for to-morrow. After that I must go hungry.\nAnd how long can I live so?\u201d\n\nShe shook her head mournfully and went to her little teapot, which hung\nbefore the fire. But when she took off the cover thereof she cried\nagain, \u201cAlack and alas! Now even my tea is gone, and whatever shall I\ndo? There is but a drop in the pot, and when I have eaten my supper\nthere will be none left for the morrow. After that I must go thirsty.\nBut so I cannot live. Day after to-morrow I shall die!\u201d And the poor\nlittle old woman shed a tear which almost fell into the teapot to salt\nthe last drop of tea which remained there.\n\nNow she sat down to her scanty supper and hesitated to take the first\nmouthful, for it would so soon be gone. She gave a sigh and a groan as\nshe lifted the little teapot to pour out the last drop of tea, for the\nlittle old woman loved her tea best of all.\n\nJust at that moment there came a knock on the door, a low-down knock\nsuch as a very little child might reach to give.\n\n\u201cTap--tap!\u201d\n\n\u201cCome in!\u201d said the little old woman, and she set down the teapot\ncarefully.\n\nThe latch clicked, the door opened, and in came a queer little creature\nthe size of a child and walking upright upon two legs; but it was not\na child. It was a funny little monkey, with a wee black face and a\ncurled-up handy tail, and on its head it wore a tiny green cap.\n\n\u201cUgh!\u201d cried the little old woman, who did not like monkeys, \u201cUgh, go\naway!\u201d\n\nBut the monkey skipped briskly across the floor to the fireplace, and\nstood there shivering and holding out its small hands to the blaze\nquite as a little child might have done. The old woman stared at it in\nsurprise. \u201cBless my stars, how ugly it is!\u201d she said. \u201cBut the poor\nthing seems cold. Let it stay and warm itself if it wishes.\u201d\n\nAt these words the monkey turned about and made a low courtesy to the\nlittle old woman.\n\n\u201cBless my stars!\u201d said she again, for she had never seen so remarkable\nan animal, even in the land where monkeys were common.\n\nNow the monkey had ceased to shiver, and it came skipping up to the\ntable where the old woman sat, ready to eat her supper.\n\n\u201cUgh! Go away!\u201d cried the little old woman. \u201cGo away, you ugly\ncreature!\u201d\n\nBut the monkey rested its chin upon the board and looked wistfully at\nthe supper. \u201cMay I not share with you?\u201d it seemed to say, though it\nspoke no word, and it put its little hands out towards the old woman,\nbeggar-fashion.\n\n\u201cBless my stars!\u201d cried the old woman again, \u201cit has the way of a\nchild. But what an ugly child! Ugh! I cannot bear to have it near me.\nYet--it is hard even for a monkey to be hungry.\u201d She looked at her\nscanty dipper of water, at her little dish of rice, at her teapot with\nits drop of tea.\n\n\u201cI have but one dipper of water left, one handful of rice, one drop\nof tea,\u201d she said ruefully. \u201cWhen these are gone I know not whence\nto-morrow\u2019s food will come; yet, little creature with the hands of a\nchild, you shall share with me so long as I have a morsel. I cannot\nrefuse those hands. But do not come too near, for I love not monkeys.\u201d\n\nNow the monkey seemed to understand every word the old woman spoke,\nalthough it could not answer in words. It bowed gratefully over its\nclasped hands as the old woman helped it to half the scanty meal,--half\nthe dipper of water, half the rice, half a drop squeezed from the\nlittle teapot. The monkey ate hungrily, and when it had finished patted\nits little stomach and grinned happily at the old woman as if to say,\n\u201cThat was very good!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am glad you are satisfied,\u201d said the old woman with a sigh; \u201cand now\nwill you begone? There is nothing more in the house for guest or for\nhost.\u201d\n\nBut the monkey laid its head to one side upon its little hands and\nclosed its eyes, showing that it was fain of sleep. Then again it held\nout its hands, beseeching the old woman.\n\n\u201cOho!\u201d said she, \u201cyou want to sleep here, too? Well-a-day! That ever I\nshould have an ugly monkey napping in my hut! But I cannot turn a poor\ncreature out into the cold night. You may stay, but keep as far from me\nas maybe, at the other corner of the cottage. Come, now, let us sleep\nand try to forget that to-morrow must be a hungry day.\u201d\n\nSo they slept, the old woman on her hard little cot and the monkey\ncurled up on the floor, which was no whit harder. And the old woman\ndreamed wonderful and beautiful dreams.\n\nWhen it was light she opened her eyes, and at first she thought she\nmust still be dreaming, for she had forgotten the happenings of the\nlast night. There was the monkey with its little green cap on one side\nfrisking about the cottage, sweeping the hearth, tidying the corners\nand setting things to rights.\n\n\u201cBless my stars!\u201d cried the little old woman. At these words the monkey\nturned, and with a grin beckoned towards the table, where dishes were\nalready set out as if for a meal. Then the old woman remembered what\nhad happened the evening before. But she remembered also the empty\ncupboard, and sighed wearily.\n\n\u201cBreakfast!\u201d she grumbled; \u201cit is little breakfast we shall have this\nday. Did we not share yestereven the last dipper of water, the last\nhandful of rice, the last drop of tea? There will scarcely be any\nbreakfast for me this day, and you, who are strong and frisky, had\nbest seek one elsewhere, leaving me to die.\u201d\n\nBut the monkey shook its head, grinning knowingly, and still beckoned\nto the table. It lifted the dipper and showed how it was still full of\nwater. It lifted the cover from the rice dish, and lo! there was a mess\nof steaming white rice. It shook the little teapot, and a drop trickled\nfrom the spout.\n\n\u201cBless my stars!\u201d cried the little old woman, \u201clast night my eyes must\nhave cheated me. I certainly thought there was not another mouthful\nin the hut. Well, here is indeed a goodly meal,\u201d and she sat down to\nthe table. The monkey looked on wistfully, but did not venture near.\nPresently the old woman looked up.\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d she cried, \u201cshall you not share, little guest, you who so\ncleverly prepared my breakfast? Did I not say that you should share so\nlong as I had a morsel upon the board? Come, then, and eat.\u201d\n\nThe monkey grinned happily and drew to the table. The scanty meal was\nsufficient for them both. When they had finished, the old woman nodded\nher head at the monkey and said,--\n\n\u201cEven a morsel tastes better when one shares it with company. But\nlittle I thought that a monkey would prove so pleasant a guest.\u201d\n\nAt these words the monkey squirmed with happiness and frisked about\nthe cottage like a mad thing. After that it went on with the household\nduties, quite like a handy little maid. But when it had finished these\nit skipped out of the door and disappeared into the forest.\n\n\u201cNow it is gone forever,\u201d said the old woman with a little sigh, \u201cand\nI shall be left alone to die of hunger and cold. For even my store\nof firewood is gone, and I have not strength to go to the forest for\nmore.\u201d And she sat down and cried bitterly, for the poor old woman\u2019s\ncourage was quite gone.\n\nThe daylight dimmed and the night came on, and the old woman sat\nrocking herself to and fro, trying to forget how hungry she was.\nBut presently the door burst open and in came the monkey, staggering\nwith arms full of fagots for the fire. It made a bright blaze on the\nhearth and then came timidly up to the old woman and laid a hand upon\nher knee. This time the old woman did not shrink or cry out, \u201cUgh! Go\naway!\u201d for she seemed no longer to hate monkeys as once she had done.\nShe looked up with half a smile and said:\n\n\u201cAh, you have come back, little guest! I thought you had deserted me.\nI know you think it is supper-time; but nay, there will be no supper\nto-night. There is naught in the house for us to eat, or I would gladly\nshare it with so willing a helper.\u201d\n\nBut the monkey shook its head and drew the old woman gently by the\nskirts towards the door.\n\n\u201cThere is no use in going to the well,\u201d said the old woman; \u201cit is\nquite dry.\u201d But the monkey continued to pull her dress, and at last the\nold woman rose, shaking her head because she knew that the quest was\nuseless. The two went out to the well, and the monkey let down the\nbucket. When it came up the old woman thrust in the dipper, and lo! she\nbrought it out full once more with clear, cool, sparkling water.\n\n\u201cBless my stars!\u201d she cried in astonishment, \u201cthere is witchcraft\nhere,\u201d and she looked at the monkey suspiciously. But the little\ncreature only grinned.\n\nOnce more it pulled at her skirts, as though it would lead her back\nto the house. Wondering, the old woman followed, dipper in hand. The\nmonkey led her straight to where the rice bucket stood on the shelf.\nThe old woman shook her head hopelessly as she took down the bucket,\nbecause she knew that it was as empty as a last year\u2019s bird\u2019s nest. But\nwhen she drew off the cover she nearly dropped it with surprise. There\nwas still a handful of rice in the bottom of the bucket.\n\n\u201cBless my stars!\u201d cried the old woman, and she looked again at the\nmonkey. But the monkey only grinned and pointed towards the teapot.\n\n\u201cThat at least I know to be empty,\u201d said the old woman positively,\n\u201cfor I squeezed out the last drop with my own hand.\u201d But what was her\namazement when she tilted the spout and out came an amber drop of\ncomfort.\n\n\u201cBless my stars!\u201d again cried the old woman. \u201cHere is really enough\nfor another meal. Witchcraft or no, you have certainly brought me good\nluck, little guest, and though we may die of hunger to-morrow we should\ngreatly rejoice now, for we thought to be dead, even this same day.\u201d\n\nSo that night passed, and another and still others. Every morning, as\nat first, the monkey prepared breakfast for the little old woman ere\nshe was awake. And still there remained a dipperful of water in the\nwell, a handful of rice in the bucket, and a drop of tea in the teapot.\nEvery night the old woman found the same for their supper.\n\n[Illustration: THE OLD WOMAN IS SURPRISED]\n\nShe was growing very fond of this queer little creature who helped\nher so heartily, and she wondered how she could ever have disliked\nmonkey-folk. She even forgot that she had once thought her guest ugly,\nfor the small face seemed, indeed, to have changed and to have\nbecome more human. The old woman had made for the monkey a pretty dress\nof green to match the green cap which her guest ever wore upon its\nhead. The long tail which once she had used as an extra strong hand had\nshrunk away and disappeared beneath the pretty dress; perhaps it was\ngone altogether--for the monkey was certainly changing in many ways,\nthough the poor old woman was too weak-eyed to see how greatly this was\nso.\n\nNow the weeks passed, and the months passed, and it was exactly a year\nand a day from the time when the monkey had first appeared. On that\nmorning the old woman woke up and saw as usual the little green figure\nflitting about the cottage, making things neat and tidy, and preparing\nthe tiny breakfast which was always the same,--scanty and simple, but\nsufficient for the two, with kindness and good feeling to eke it out.\nThis morning, when the old woman was ready to get up, the busy little\ncreature came skipping up to the cot. And as it stood looking down,\nsmiling kindly, the old woman suddenly blinked and rubbed her eyes.\n\n\u201cBless my stars!\u201d she cried. \u201cHow big you are! How pretty you have\ngrown! What! Who is this? You are not my little monkey, you are a\nlovely girl smiling at me.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood morning, Mother,\u201d said a sweet voice. \u201cI am your little guest. I\nam the same poor creature whom you took in out of kindness, and whom\nyou have allowed to dwell with you this long year, sharing your scanty\nstore. I owe you more than words can say.\u201d\n\n\u201cWords!\u201d cried the old woman, \u201cand how long since a monkey could use\nwords?\u201d She sat staring blankly.\n\n\u201cYou see I am really the same,\u201d said the pretty girl. \u201cI still wear the\ngreen dress which you made for me and the green cap which I had upon\nmy head when I came to you. In that green cap lies my secret. I am a\nFairy, Mother.\u201d\n\nThen she told the old woman a strange story,--how because she was\nnaughty the Fairy Queen had punished her by giving her that ugly\nmonkey-shape, which she must wear for a year and a day. But at the end\nof that time she could take her own shape and go back to Fairyland. And\nnow the time had come.\n\n\u201cBut you have been so kind to me, dear Mother, that I may give you one\nwish before I go back to my beautiful home,\u201d said the Fairy maiden.\n\nThen the old woman burst into tears and flung her arms around the neck\nof her little guest. \u201cOh, do not leave me, kind Fairy-child!\u201d she said.\n\u201cI love you very dearly, and how shall I live without you? I loved you\nwhen I thought you were only a little monkey, but now I love you a\nthousand times more.\u201d\n\nGently the Fairy kissed her and said, \u201cNow hear what the gift is\nthat I may give you. I may give you one wish of three, and you shall\nchoose between them. You shared your simple food with a poor little\nanimal-guest. Now for the first wish: Would you live always on princely\nfare? If you so choose you may have more than you need to eat. You\nmay have meats and fruit, fine wheaten bread and choice sweets, such\nas are set upon palace tables. You may have everything that a dainty\npalate could desire, and every day a different feast of goodies. This\nyou may choose, if you so will. Or, if you think the second choice a\nbetter one, you may become young again as I am now, for I am a picture\nof your lost youth which you have forgotten. You may have health and\nstrength, and appetite to enjoy life, and the hearty meals which you\nwill be able to earn. That is a goodly gift, is it not?\u201d\n\nThe old woman nodded, but still her eyes were unsatisfied.\n\n\u201cThen there is the third choice,\u201d said the Fairy, and her voice was\nvery soft. \u201cBut that one it seems selfish for me to name, because it is\na wish for my happiness.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is the third wish?\u201d asked the old woman eagerly.\n\n\u201cYou may wish, if you choose--and the wish will be granted by the Fairy\nQueen--that all may remain as it now is; you will be what you are, a\ndear old woman living still in this little hut, with your little well\nin which there will ever be one dipperful of water, no more; with your\nlittle bucket in which there will ever be one handful of rice, no more;\nwith your little teapot in which there will ever be one drop of tea,\nno more. It is scanty fare for one, Mother; yet withal, if you would\nhave one to share it, I will do so still, as I have done so long. I\nwill become your child--no longer a Fairy-child, but your little human\ngirl-child, such as I seem now. I will live with you always, love you\nand take care of you always and share your scanty portion.\u201d\n\nThe old woman gave a cry of joy. \u201cBut do _you_ wish it?\u201d she said.\n\u201cWould you not rather go back to your beautiful Fairyland, where you\ncan be happy and care-free always?\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, dear Mother,\u201d said the Fairy; \u201cif the choice were mine I would\nrather remain here with you than anywhere in the whole wide world, for\nI have been very happy here and I have learned many things. I do not\nwant to go back to Fairyland to be an idle, careless, selfish Fairy. I\nwould rather be a human child and share my mother\u2019s joys and sorrows.\nDear Mother, will you have it so?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I will have it so!\u201d cried the old woman joyfully.\n\n\u201cThink,\u201d said the Fairy, lifting a warning finger, \u201cthink of the\nfine feasts and the dainties you might have. Think of the youth and\nstrength. Would you give up all this for only me--who must share half\nthe refreshment from your well, your bucket, and your teapot?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is enough,\u201d said the old woman. \u201cWhat do we need more? We can\nstill offer a sup to any poor stranger who may come as you came to my\ndoor. Oh, dear child, if you will stay with me, that is all I ask!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then, let us sit down and have breakfast,\u201d said the dear little\ngirl, tossing her green cap into the fire. \u201cNow I am a Fairy no longer,\nbut your very own little girl-child. And here is a dipper of water--the\nonly one left in the well. Here is a dish of rice--I used the last\nhandful from the bucket. Here is just a tiny drop of tea in the teapot.\nOh, Mother, I am so glad!\u201d\n\nSo they sat down to their frugal meal, and they laughed, and they\nlaughed, and they laughed, they were so happy.\n\n\n\n\nCHILD OR FAIRY\n\n\n  \u2019Tis good to be a Fairy-thing,\n  And flit about on gauzy wing;\n  To sleep in cradles made of flowers,\n  Or play through all the joyous hours.\n  For Fairies have no grief nor care,\n  Happy they are, and always fair,--\n          I suppose.\n\n  And yet \u2019tis better far to be\n  A little human child like me,\n  With lessons hard and tasks to do,\n  And sometimes little troubles, too.\n  For I have Mother\u2019s tender kiss,\n  And nothing is so good as this,--\n          Every one knows!\n\n\n\n\nKARL AND THE DRYAD\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nKARL AND THE DRYAD\n\n\nThere was once a lad named Karl who lived with his father and mother\nin a little village of the Flat Land. Karl was a big fellow, tall and\nyellow-haired. But all his strength was in his long, lean body. There\nwas none in his poor head. Karl was the village simpleton.\n\nPoor Karl! His life was a sorry one. He was despised and jeered at by\nthe whole village. The children followed and tormented him at every\nchance, because he could not learn at school; the grown folk were\nlittle kinder, but nudged one another and made jokes about him when he\ncame to the market-place. Even the cur-dogs followed and barked at him,\nbut they knew no better. They were cruel folk, those dwellers in the\nFlat Land.\n\nKarl\u2019s own parents were the unkindest of all. They did not love their\nson nor pity his wretchedness, but were ashamed because he was so\nsimple. They were angry, too, because in their poverty he could not\nhelp them earn a living. For there seemed little indeed that poor Karl\ncould learn to do,--he was so very simple. His parents were continually\ntelling him how useless he was in this workaday world.\n\n\u201cOh, you stupid fellow!\u201d they would sometimes say, driving him\nout of the house with blows of broom or stick. \u201cOh, you great\ngood-for-nothing, sitting here and eating our bread without doing aught\nto pay for it! Were ever parents troubled with so worthless a son?\nOther folk have bright boys and girls who will grow up to do some good\nin the world and be a credit to their parents. But you will always be a\nbig, overgrown baby for us to take care of. Bah! Karl, we are tired of\nseeing you about!\u201d\n\nWith the tears streaming down his face poor Karl would shuffle out of\nthe mean little cottage where they lived, the most unhappy boy in the\nwhole wide world. There was one place whither Karl loved to go at such\ntimes, the only place where he was sure of finding rest and quiet and a\nfriend. In a corner of the village was a little wood,--a rare sight in\nthe Flat Land, where trees grew but sparsely.\n\nFew other persons came here, for the folk of the country cared little\nabout rest or quiet, and nothing at all for the beauty of nature. They\nwere quite satisfied with the look of their clean-shaven country,\ntheir smooth lawns and geometrical canals, their straight, shadeless\nroads, curbed neatly on either hand. It had never occurred to them to\nplant trees for beauty and shade, and for the other good things which\ntrees offer. The little wood had grown quite by accident, and no one\ncared anything about it. But Karl loved the lonely, pretty place, and\nespecially the great oak which grew in the midst thereof, the only\noak in the whole Flat Land. It was so big, so sturdy, and yet withal\nso gentle when it stretched its great limbs protectingly over his\nwretchedness, giving the comfort of its shade and coolness to refresh\nhim in his troubles. It was Karl\u2019s only friend.\n\nA hot, sultry day came upon the Flat Land, and it seemed to be Karl\u2019s\nevil day. In the morning a rout of children and dogs chased him through\nthe village, pelting him with bad eggs and fruit, and with stones,\ntoo. They chased him until the school bell rang, when he escaped; for\nKarl did not go to school,--he was too simple. When he returned home,\nbreathless, bruised, and weary, scarcely able to speak from fright and\nexhaustion, his father beat him because he could not tell where he had\nbeen all the morning. Poor Karl! There was no part of the whole town\nwhere he had not been in that dreadful chase. But he had not the words\nto explain this to his parents; so his cruel father punished him, and\nhis mother drove him out without his dinner.\n\nMore wretched than ever before, Karl fled to his refuge, the little\nwood, and flung himself on the greensward beneath the giant oak tree.\nHe buried his face in the cool, soft moss, and cried as though his\nheart would break.\n\n\u201cPoor fool! Poor fool!\u201d he wailed. \u201cPoor Karl, good for nothing!\u201d\n\nWhile he lay thus, sobbing aloud and filling the cups of the moss\nwith his tears, he heard a heavy tread approaching. Glancing up\nfearfully,--for he had no hope to meet a friendly face, since none in\nall the world had ever smiled upon him,--he saw a Farmer approaching\nwith a great axe over his shoulder.\n\n\u201cHullo, there!\u201d cried the Farmer when he spied Karl under the tree.\n\u201cYou Simpleton, better get up. I am going to cut down that tree which\ngrows over your head.\u201d\n\n\u201cCut down my tree!\u201d gasped Karl, and he began to tremble. Was he to\nlose his only friend?\n\n\u201c_Your_ tree!\u201d jeered the Farmer. \u201cPoor Fool, I never knew that you\nowned anything, even your senses. The tree is mine, with the land on\nwhich it grows and acres on every hand. I am going to cut down the tree\nto make firewood for next winter. That is all trees are good for.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, do not do that!\u201d begged Karl, spreading out his arms as if to\nprotect the tree. \u201cI will not let you cut it down!\u201d\n\n\u201cHo ho!\u201d laughed the Farmer. \u201cHow will you prevent it, Simpleton? And\nwhat is the tree to you, anyway?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe only big tree there is anywhere!\u201d sobbed Karl. \u201cThe only shade;\nthe only safe, quiet, cool, kind place in the whole world! O Man, do\nnot cut down the tree! You cannot make another.\u201d\n\nThe Farmer had lifted his axe to strike, but now he paused and\nrested it on the ground. Karl\u2019s last words had struck him with a\nnew thought. \u201cThe Fool speaks a word of wisdom,\u201d he growled to\nhimself. \u201cIt is easier to cut down a tree like this than to make\nanother. The acorn which I might plant to-day would become no such\ntree in my lifetime--nor in that of my son, or my grandson, or my\ngreat-grandson, for that matter. Fool, I will think it over (the\nmore fool I, \u2019tis likely). I will spare _your_ tree--ha ha!--for a\ntime. I can cut it down whenever I like. But as you say, I cannot soon\ngrow another. My folly bids yours good-day, Fool.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: KARL AND THE DRYAD]\n\nShouldering his axe, the Farmer trudged half sulkily away. Then Karl\nfell to sobbing again, but this time with joy that his tree was spared.\nHe flung his arm around the great trunk and pressed his lips against\nthe rough bark, kissing it again and again. Suddenly he heard a sharp\ncrack in the oak; another and another, as if the bark were being ripped\naway. He started up in a fright and stood back from the tree, wondering\nwhat was happening to his old friend.\n\nPresently a long vertical slit appeared in the side of the tree and\ngrew gradually wider and wider. A door was opening in the trunk! Karl\nstood gazing spell-bound at this amazing sight, when out from the\ndark entrance stepped a figure most wonderful to see. It was a lovely\nmaiden, dressed all in brown,--the color of the tree-bark. About her\nhead was twined a wreath of green oak leaves and acorns, and in her\nhand she carried a wand, made from a branch of the tree. She was a\nDryad, the spirit whose home was the old oak tree; but Karl was too\nsimple to know that. He merely stood staring at the beautiful stranger,\ntoo much surprised even to close his poor foolish mouth, which hung\nwide open.\n\nThe Dryad smiled sweetly at the lad and said, \u201cThanks, kind friend,\nfor saving my tree. I heard your wise words to the cruel Farmer, and\nbrave you were to speak them. Now what can I do to make you happy, as\nwe Dryads love to make happy him who does kindness to our sheltering\ntrees?\u201d\n\nPoor Karl did not understand how he had saved the tree. He only knew\nthat for some reason the cruel Farmer had changed his mind. As little\ndid he understand why the Dryad thanked him. But he heard the kindness\nof her voice, and knew she offered aid.\n\n\u201cOh, can you help me, beautiful Stranger?\u201d he cried, clasping his\nhands eagerly and looking at her with tears in his eyes.\n\n\u201cIndeed, I will help you all I can, kind lad,\u201d said the Dryad, waving\nher wand and taking a step towards him. \u201cTell me about your trouble.\u201d\n\nThen Karl told the Dryad all the sorrow of his life,--how he was\nfoolish and of no use, a burden to his parents and a disgrace to the\ntown; how all the village, even the little children and the cur-dogs,\nhated and despised him; how unhappy and lonesome he was.\n\n\u201cO fair Stranger,\u201d said Karl as he finished the sad little tale, \u201cI am\nonly a poor simpleton, and I can never do anything good or great. But\nif you could only teach me how to do some little thing that will be of\nuse to the world, so that I shall not always be hated and despised even\nby the little children and dogs of the village, I should be so very\nhappy! Will you do this, dear Tree-Maiden?\u201d\n\nThe Dryad looked at him pityingly, and the tears stood in her own brown\neyes when she heard his wish. \u201cPoor boy,\u201d she said, and her voice was\nvery sweet, \u201cyou ask nothing for yourself, neither riches nor happiness\nnor even wisdom. You ask only to be taught how your simplicity may be\nof some use to the world which has treated you so unkindly. Some would\ncall it a foolish wish. But I say, O Karl, that it is not foolishness.\nTwice to-day you have spoken wisely, lad.\u201d\n\nThe Dryad looked up into the tree under which they stood; she looked\ndown upon the ground; then she glanced around and about, thinking hard\nfor Karl\u2019s sake. And at last she spoke again.\n\n\u201cRemember the words which you spoke to-day when the Farmer raised his\naxe. You told him that he could not make another such tree; and those\nwords saved this great oak. You were right, Karl. And he was right when\nhe agreed that the acorn which he might plant to-day would not become\nlike this king of trees in his lifetime, nor in that of his son, or his\ngrandson, or his great-grandson. Yet the acorn which you plant will\ngrow, and its shade, its beauty, its greenness will one day equal\nthis. Though you may never see it, the world will be better for your\ndeed, and future generations will bless you for it. This shall be your\ntask, Karl, to fare forth upon a lifelong pilgrimage and plant as you\ngo the blessed trees which will shelter the many people who are to come\nafter you. Thus the Flat Land will become famous for all time as the\nplace of happy wayfaring.\u201d\n\nNow poor Karl understood not one word of all this which the Dryad had\nso prettily spoken, save that he was to go away. But this thought he\nseized eagerly.\n\n\u201cI am to go away!\u201d he cried. \u201cWhen, dear Maiden, and where?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must go to-night,\u201d answered the Dryad, waving her wand. \u201cSee,\nalready the shadows are falling. You must not be missed nor sought for\nthis night. You must take with you only this,--a sack of acorns upon\nyour shoulders. See where they lie all about us under the tree, ready\nfor you to gather! And look! I will take this green mantle which I wear\nand make of it a sack to hold your burden. Take it, Karl, and fill it\nthus with the gift of your old friend, the oak.\u201d\n\nKarl did as she showed him, and presently he had the long, soft sack\nfilled with brown acorns. Then the Dryad gave him a lesson in planting.\nShe showed him how to dig a little hole for each acorn and cover\nit with mould; and though Karl was so simple he learned the lesson\nreadily, for he had a loving teacher. Then the Dryad told him how he\nmust walk a hundred paces from the planting of one acorn before he\nturned earth to cover the next.\n\n\u201cNow, Karl, you shall go forth,\u201d she said, \u201cfrom village to village\nwherever your thought may lead,--for it does not matter,--planting\nacorns on either side of the way. And if any one asks you why you do\nthis, do you tell him the story of this day; and I warrant you will\nneed no other pence to pay for food or a bed whenever you need them. Do\nnot forget this story, Karl. Do not forget.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am a simpleton,\u201d said Karl humbly, \u201cyet I shall never forget this\nday\u2019s happenings, nor your words to me. But shall I indeed be doing\nsomething for the world\u2019s good? I do not see how that can be.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrust me, Karl,\u201d said the Dryad kindly. \u201cIndeed and indeed, you will\nbe doing much, I promise you,--more than many men who call themselves\nwise. But see, already the night is falling. It is time that you were\nstarting upon your journey.\u201d\n\nThereupon she helped him to place the stout sack of acorns upon his\nshoulders, and with a wave of the wand started him forth upon his\npilgrimage. Smiling with joy to think that at last he was about to be\nof some use in the world, Karl bent his long frame under the heavy\nburden, and trudged out of the little wood. When he reached the\nhighroad, he turned to wave a last farewell to the Dryad. But already\nshe had retreated into her tree-cell, closing the door behind her so\ntightly that one would never know where it opened. It was to his friend\nthe great oak, alone, that Karl bade his last good-by.\n\nThus Karl began his pilgrimage with the green sack of acorns on his\nback, and with neither penny nor crust in his pocket. He began his\npilgrimage at dusk, when every one was indoors at the evening meal; so\nno one thought of him, or spied his doings. With great glee the simple\nfellow planted his first acorn in the heart of the village, just within\nsight of the parent oak. So long as light lasted he trudged on with a\nhappier heart than he had ever known. He was being of some use to the\nworld! He did not understand how, but he believed the gentle Dryad\u2019s\npromise. At every hundred paces he planted an acorn, and he was so busy\ncounting his steps between whiles that he forgot all his troubles. And\nthis, too, the wise Dryad had foreseen.\n\nAt last, when the way had grown so dim that Karl could barely see to\ndig earth for the last planting, a wayfarer accosted him.\n\n\u201cWhat ho, Stranger! What are you doing there?\u201d cried this man.\n\n\u201cI am planting an acorn,\u201d said Karl simply.\n\n\u201cHo ho! what an idea!\u201d cried the fellow with a guffaw. \u201cYou\u2019ll never\nlive to enjoy the oak that grows from that acorn. Why do you take so\nmuch trouble for nothing, my funny fellow?\u201d\n\nThen Karl told him the whole story, as the Dryad had bade him do. And\nwhen he paused at the end, the man was silent for a little time.\n\n\u201cPoor fellow!\u201d he said at last. \u201cSimple, simple! What a story made of\nfool\u2019s fancies! An oak tree--a maiden coming out of it--acorns to be\nplanted along the road for shade and rest! Yet--there is something in\nthat last thought. It might not be a bad thing to have trees along\nour highways, though I never before heard of such a thing. Whew! I\nknow I should have been glad to-day for the shade of a tree when I ate\nmy luncheon in the burning sun.--Have you supped? Where do you lodge\nto-night, lad?\u201d\n\nKarl dropped his foolish mouth and said blankly that he did not know.\nIn truth, he had never thought of the matter until that minute. But the\nstranger clapped him on the shoulder and said,--\n\n\u201cCome home with me and I will give you a bed and a sup. Your wonderful\nstory deserves so much reward.\u201d\n\nSo Karl fared well that night, and on the morrow once more started\nhappily forth upon his mission. Thus indeed he fared wherever he went.\nAt first folk laughed at the story which he told. But when they came\nto think it over, they found it not so ridiculous. Looking at the\npoor fool\u2019s eager face and watching his tireless labor for the good\nof people whom he would never see, their hearts smote them for their\nown selfishness, and they were ashamed. They treated him well. Karl\nnever lacked for a meal or a bed; the telling of his story always\nearned either. Yet he never expected this reward, but was continually\nwondering why folk were so good to him. He thanked them humbly for\ntheir charity, and when he was refreshed, went forth again upon his\npilgrimage with no care for the morrow or for the next meal. Karl was\nindeed a simpleton.\n\nThe days and the weeks and the years went by, and Karl still wandered,\nplanting the acorns as he went. He never retraced his steps, but\nwent on and on, down new roads, new avenues, new boulevards, into new\ncountries. He never was curious to see how his work was faring. He was\ntoo simple to think of that. He had been told what he must do in order\nto be useful in the world; that was enough. The Power that watches over\nlittle acorns and great oaks, over simpletons and wise men, would take\ncare of the work which Karl had begun.\n\nMile after mile he traversed, country after country he visited; the\nyears passed over his head, silvering his hair and bending still more\nhis tall frame. As Karl grew older the burden on his shoulders became\nlighter to carry; but very gradually. The sack made from the Dryad\u2019s\nmantle must have had magic woven in its tissue. For that first stock of\nacorns from the old oak tree lasted throughout the entire pilgrimage,\nduring the whole of Karl\u2019s life, so that he had no need to return to\nthe unfriendly village for a fresh supply. On and on he went, and\nbehind him for miles and miles through the countries and the years\nstretched rows of little oak saplings, of various heights and sizes,\nand full of promise,--the beginning of a wonderful arched avenue.\nFor after he had passed out of sight, the people of every village,\nremembering his strange words and his wild story, began to think of him\nas a holy man, and to look upon the acorns which he had planted as holy\nthings. So the sprouts were cherished carefully and more carefully as\nthe years went by.\n\nNow at last, after many years, Karl was grown old and feeble, and the\nacorns were few in the bottom of the Dryad\u2019s green sack; and he knew\nthat his pilgrimage was almost over. He was many, many miles from home,\nand for the first time he thought of returning, longing for the Tree,\nhis friend. He was now bowed and white-haired. A snowy beard descended\nto his waist; his garments were in rags and his shoes were mere strips\nof leather bound around his bare feet. But he was very happy, for he\nknew his work was done.\n\nIn a little village of the far South country he planted the last\nacorn, and sank upon the spot, unable to go any farther. The towns-folk\ngathered around him, saying, \u201cWho is this? What holy man is this?\u201d\nFor his face was indeed that of a blessed saint. Then once more, for\nthe last time, he told his story. He told it in a faint and faltering\nvoice, and it was so sad, so sweet, that every one wept to hear it, and\nmarveled greatly, saying,--\n\n\u201cSurely, he is indeed a holy man! See, the green wonder-sack is empty.\nThis is the end of his pilgrimage. Our village is blest and shall be\nfamous as the end of his pilgrimage. We will set up a shrine in his\nhonor where the last acorn is planted. But first we must take him home.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, take me home!\u201d said Karl, who understood only this word of all\nthe praise they gave him.\n\nThey laid him on the green mantle and started gently to carry him where\nhe would be. He could not tell them the name of the place, but they\ntraced the way by the acorns which he had planted and which had sprung\nup in his honor. As they went from village to village, folk came out\nwho remembered the holy pilgrim who had passed erewhile, telling\nhis quaint story; and they claimed a share in bearing the blessed\nburden. So that poor Karl had a continually growing company of people\nministering to his wants and doing him the kindnesses of love. But he\ndid not know why, thinking only that the world was grown wondrously\nkind since the days of his boyhood. As they passed on, the wonder grew\nat the length of his pilgrimage and the extent of Karl\u2019s work. For the\njourney was not a matter of days but of months, even at the steady pace\nthey held. And as they measured back mile after mile, the planting of\nKarl became still more wonderful to see. From little sprouts the acorns\nhad now grown tiny treelets. Further on the saplings were waist-high,\nshoulder high, above the heads of the tallest. In lands where he had\npassed years before grew rows of tall, beautiful oaks on either side\nof the road. But it was when the goodly company entered at last the\nFlat Land itself that they saw the trees become so sturdy and so\nbroad that already it was a fair avenue down which Karl was borne.\nIt was many, many years since he had passed that way. He himself was\nforgotten, but there remained the tradition of a simple lad who had\nonce gone by, planting the blessed oaks which were now the pride of the\nland. And his own countrymen joined the company in greater numbers than\nany heretofore. For now the wisdom of the planting began to be seen.\nThe trees were so tall and so broad-limbed that already they cast a\ngrateful shade, under which the pilgrims rested at every stage. Men,\nwomen, and children, even the animals whom they passed, taking shelter\nfrom the summer heat under these same trees, blessed the wisdom which\nhad done this thing. But Karl knew nothing of all this. He only knew\nthat he was going home; and he slept, being very weary.\n\nAt last they came to the village where Karl was born; but he did not\nknow it for such, he was so simple. Nor did the people who flocked to\npraise him remember Karl, he was so changed. They only knew him for the\nunnamed benefactor and friend who had made their town the fairest and\nmost famous in the whole land. Among them were the very children, now\ngrown old like him, who had teased and tormented him that woeful day.\nBut now they crowded around the green litter as it was borne along,\nseeking to kiss the hand of the wise man who had given them shade and\nshelter on their weary way to and from the market. The company of\npilgrims bore Karl past and under the trees which had sprung up to mark\nhis passing from the town. They came to the last tree, the first which\nKarl had planted in the heart of the village on that first day, and\nhere they paused, troubled. For they said,--\n\n\u201cThe avenue ends here. Whither shall we now carry the holy man, and\nwhat would he have us do? For he has spoken no word since we began the\njourney.\u201d\n\nBut under this last tree Karl opened his eyes, and raising himself\non his litter stretched out his arms to the East. Gazing whither he\npointed, the company saw a little wood, and rising out of it a single\ngiant oak, greater than all the others which Karl had planted,--greater\nthan any which those men had seen.\n\n\u201cThere, there!\u201d cried Karl, with joy in his voice. \u201cTake me there!\nHome, home!\u201d\n\nWondering, they bore him to the great oak and laid him on the\ngreensward beneath the tree. Then a marvelous thing happened. In the\nsight of all the people a little door opened in the side of the oak,\nand out stepped a maiden dressed all in brown, with a girdle of green\nand with a crown of oak leaves on her head. She bore a branch of the\ntree in her hand, which she waved gently as she stepped towards Karl.\n\n\u201cWelcome home!\u201d she cried sweetly, smiling upon him. \u201cWelcome home,\ndear friend. You have had your task and it is ended. Your wish is\nfulfilled. You have been of great use to the world, and it will bless\nyour name more and more as the years go by. Come, now, and rest.\u201d\nTenderly she took him by the hand, aiding him to rise. He lifted\nhimself, feebly at first, but seeming to gain strength from her touch.\nThe Dryad wrapped her green mantle around his shoulders, leading him\ntowards the oak. And lo! When they reached the little door, he turned\nand smiled at the company, waving his hand in a last farewell, but\nspeaking no word. And they looked at him amazed, such a change seemed\nto have passed over him; but they could not say how, save that the\nweight of years, the weariness, the sorrow, the yearning, seemed to\nhave slipped away. He smiled at them, and it was not the smile of a\nsimpleton, but of one who knew the meaning of strange things. Then the\nDryad drew him gently after her and they passed in through the little\ndoor, into the heart of the great oak tree. Noiselessly it closed\nbehind them, leaving not a crack to show where it had been. And this\nwas the last ever seen of Karl and the Dryad.\n\nBut the people were left staring at one another, as folk do when they\nhave seen something that they cannot understand.\n\n\n\n\nTREES\n\n\n  However little I may be,\n  At least I too can plant a tree.\n\n  And some day it will grow so high\n  That it can whisper to the sky,\n\n  And spread its leafy branches wide\n  To make a shade on every side.\n\n  Then on a sultry summer day,\n  The people resting there will say,--\n\n  \u201cOh, good and wise and great was he\n  Who thought to plant this blessed tree!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE INDIAN FAIRY\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTHE INDIAN FAIRY\n\n\nI\n\n\u201cKatie has been complaining again of the queer noises in the cellar,\u201d\nsaid Rob\u2019s mother, as she passed the coffee cup to her husband across\nthe breakfast table.\n\n\u201cIt must be rats,\u201d said Rob\u2019s papa. \u201cWe will get a trap.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is very strange,\u201d said Mamma again, \u201cthe girls declare that the\nnoises seem to come from the old well. That is what all our servants\nhave said for years. You know some of them have been so frightened that\nthey gave us notice, because of the noises in the well. They think it\nis bewitched.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is \u2018bewitched,\u2019 Mamma?\u201d asked Rob.\n\n\u201cPooh, pooh!\u201d said Rob\u2019s papa. \u201cIt is only rats, I know, and the noises\ndo not come from the well, but from the wall. There must be a rat\u2019s\nnest in the wall close by the well. I have heard about those noises\never since I was a little boy. Sometimes I used to think that I heard\nthem myself, and I fancied all sorts of queer things. But of course it\nwas nothing but rats.\u201d\n\nRob had been listening with round eyes, and now he cried eagerly, \u201cO\nPapa! I did not know that there was a well under the house. How did it\ncome there, and what is it for?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, yes, there is an old well,\u201d said his papa. \u201cIt has been down there\nlonger than I can remember, for it is even older than the house,--older\nthan the city, too, I daresay. It was an Indian spring, and my\ngreat-grandfather built the house over it, so as to have fresh water\nalways conveniently at hand. It is covered now with a trapdoor, so that\nno one can fall in by mistake. That is why you never saw it, Rob.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn old Indian spring!\u201d cried Rob excitedly, \u201cand we drink that very\nsame water every day! How splendid!\u201d He sipped some water from his\nglass and smacked his lips.\n\n\u201cOh, no,\u201d said his papa laughing. \u201cThis is ordinary spring water bought\nat the store. Our old well has not been used for years and years. Since\nthe city has been built up so closely around our house, which was one\nof the first ones here on the Hill, we have not dared to use the well\nwater, because it might not be clean. I daresay the well is quite dry\nby this time. I have not looked into it for years.\u201d\n\n\u201cO Papa! I want to look down into the well!\u201d cried Rob.\n\n\u201cWell, you shall do so some time,\u201d said his papa as they rose from the\ntable. \u201cBut I am in a hurry now. Good-by, Mamma. Good-by, Rob. I will\nbuy a trap on my way down town to-day, and we will put an end to the\nnoises in the cellar which trouble Katie.\u201d\n\nNow of course Rob was very anxious to see that well, for he loved\neverything that had to do with Indians. He thought that he could not\nwait for his father to show it to him. He ran into the kitchen and\nbegan to bother Katie.\n\n\u201cKatie, Katie,\u201d he begged. \u201cPlease come into the cellar and show me the\nold well. I want to look down into it.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Saints preserve us!\u201d cried Katie, lifting up her hands in horror.\n\u201cWhat for do ye want to be lookin\u2019 into the well? No, me b\u2019y! It\u2019s I\nthat will be kapin\u2019 away from that same, and thank ye kindly. \u2019Tis\nbewitched it is, what with the funny little noises a-comin\u2019 out of it\nday and night.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat funny little noises, Katie?\u201d asked Rob. \u201cPapa says it is rats. He\nis going to buy a trap to catch them.\u201d\n\n\u201cRats! A trap!\u201d sniffed Katie scornfully. \u201c\u2019Tis no rats at all do be\nmakin\u2019 them quare little noises. \u2019Tis bewitched, I tell ye. \u2019Tis stark\nbewitched, that well. And I wouldn\u2019t go near it at all for the promise\nof a new bonnet.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat does \u2018bewitched\u2019 mean, Katie?\u201d asked Rob again.\n\nKatie wagged her head and mysteriously made the sign of the cross.\n\n\u201cOh, who will be tellin\u2019 ye that? If it was in the owld country I\u2019d say\nit was Fairies or maybe the Leprechaun himself. But I never heard tell\no\u2019 Fairies in this land, at all. Maybe \u2019tis something worse. But oh!\nThe funny little noises!\u201d\n\n\u201c_What_ noises, Katie?\u201d begged Rob.\n\n\u201cOh, the little whinin\u2019 and sobbin\u2019, like one wantin\u2019 to get out. \u2019Tis\nno rats live in the owld well. Would _rats_ be whimperin\u2019 and beggin\u2019\nlike?\u201d\n\n\u201cBegging, Katie!\u201d cried Rob. \u201cOh, what do they say? Please, please tell\nme quickly.\u201d\n\n\u201cLa, no! Master Rob,\u201d said Katie, looking sidewise at the little boy,\n\u201cyour Mamma wouldn\u2019t want me to be frightenin\u2019 ye with tales the likes\no\u2019 these.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I\u2019m not frightened, Katie,\u201d said Rob eagerly. \u201cI\u2019m just\n_interested_.\u201d\n\n\u201cH\u2019m,\u201d said Katie doubtfully, glancing at the clock. \u201cWhisht! Master\nRob! \u2019Tis a quarter to nine, and time for you to be startin\u2019 for\nschool, or you\u2019ll be late.\u201d\n\nAnd indeed, Rob had to run all the way, and reached school barely in\ntime.\n\nRob\u2019s papa did not forget to bring home a rat-trap that night, and\nafter dinner he said,--\n\n\u201cNow, Rob, I am going down cellar to set the trap, and if you want to\ncome with me I will show you the old well.\u201d\n\nOf course Rob wanted to go. So Rob\u2019s papa took a lighted candle in one\nhand, and the rat-trap nicely baited with cheese in the other, and they\ndescended the steep cellar stairs together. It was very dark in the\ncellar, and the candle made queer flares on the walls and ceiling, and\nlighted up corners which Rob had never before seen. In the very darkest\nand dimmest corner of all, away in the back cellar, Rob\u2019s papa paused,\nand then Rob saw that in the floor there was a trapdoor with an iron\nring, quite like the Arabian Nights!\n\n\u201cIt is from somewhere hereabout that Katie says she hears the noises,\u201d\nsaid Papa. \u201cWe will set the trap on the floor, close beside the wall,\nand I warrant we shall catch a big rat before many nights are over.\u201d So\nhe set the trap with the spring ready to catch the first greedy rat who\nshould try to steal the cheese.\n\n\u201cNow let us look into the well,\u201d said Rob\u2019s papa. \u201cI haven\u2019t lifted\nthis cover for years. Ugh! It is heavy enough!\u201d He tugged at the iron\nring and presently the cover flew back. Down below yawned a great black\nhole, very deep and seemingly quite empty.\n\n\u201cHere, Rob, take hold of my hand,\u201d said his papa, \u201cand you can look\ndown.\u201d Rob held tightly to his father\u2019s hand, and bending over, peered\ninto the well. The candle which his father held flickered and flamed\nand shot a shaft of light down into the strange hole.\n\n\u201cI can\u2019t see anything,\u201d said Rob, disappointed. \u201cI don\u2019t think there\nis any water there. But--but I think I hear something! A queer little\nnoise like water trickling, or somebody whispering very softly.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe spring may be bubbling yet,\u201d said his father. \u201cKatie, O Katie!\u201d\nhe called upstairs. \u201cPlease bring me a tin pail and a ball of stout\ntwine. We will see whether the Indian spring has run dry or not.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Saints preserve us!\u201d Rob heard Katie cry in the kitchen above, as\nshe went about to do as she was bid. And again Rob thought he heard a\nmurmuring in the well.\n\n\u201cThere is the queer noise again, Papa!\u201d he cried. \u201cIt sounds like some\none talking a long way off.\u201d\n\n\u201cPooh, pooh!\u201d said Papa. (He was always saying, \u201cPooh, pooh\u201d at Rob\u2019s\nqueer notions.) \u201cRun and get the pail and the cord, Sonny. Katie is\nafraid to come near the well. Ah! Now we shall soon know.\u201d\n\nHe tied the cord to the handle of the pail, while Rob held the\ncandle and they watched the pail descend. Down, down it went, until\nit disappeared into the blackness. \u201cWell, well!\u201d said his father.\n\u201cTen, twenty, I must have paid out thirty feet of cord already. I had\nforgotten that the well was so deep. Hello! There was a splash; hear\nit, Rob?\u201d\n\nRob heard,--a quick splash, and again the queer little noise, a\ntinkle, a trickle, a rustle, a whisper.\n\n\u201cO Papa,\u201d he cried, \u201clet me draw up the pail, please.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, be very careful, Son,\u201d said his father. And Rob began to pull on\nthe cord, while his father held tightly to his jacket so that he should\nnot fall down into the deep, black hole. The pail was rather heavy. It\nbumped against the sides of the well, tinkling and jingling as it came\nup. Rob thought that it jerked and wobbled strangely. But perhaps his\nhand was not quite steady, he was so excited. At last the pail came in\nsight, full of water. They drew it over the edge, Rob stooping eagerly\nto see. Filled to the brim it was, and running over.\n\n\u201cClear water, as cold as ice,\u201d said Rob\u2019s Papa, dipping in his finger.\n\u201cLet us take it upstairs and see it in a better light. I would not have\nbelieved that the old spring was still bubbling.\u201d\n\nVery carefully Rob carried the pail of water up the cellar stairs.\n\u201cKatie, O Katie!\u201d he called. \u201cSee the water from the old well! From\nthirty feet down in the darkness it came.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Saints preserve us!\u201d cried Katie. (She was always saying that.) \u201cI\nwouldn\u2019t touch water from the witch-well for any money ye could offer.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is clear and bright as glass,\u201d said Rob\u2019s papa.\n\n\u201cO Papa! Let me drink some,\u201d cried Rob. \u201cI should so love to taste\nwater from a real Indian spring.\u201d\n\n\u201cO Mr. Evans! Don\u2019t let the b\u2019y taste it!\u201d begged Katie, clasping her\nhands. \u201cIt will kill him, the p\u2019isen water!\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, Rob,\u201d said Mr. Evans, \u201cI think Katie is right. It might be\ndangerous to drink the water. But it looks delicious. What a pity that\nwe cannot use spring water from our own ancestral well, instead of\nbuying it at the store as every one else must!\u201d\n\n\u201cPlease, Papa--just one little sip?\u201d begged Rob.\n\n\u201cNo, not one little sip, Son. Here, Katie, empty the pail of water\ninto the sink,\u201d said Mr. Evans firmly.\n\nTremblingly Katie took the pail and went with it to the sink. But she\nhad not turned half the water away when she gave a scream.\n\n\u201cOw! The whimperin\u2019 and cryin\u2019! Hark till it!\u201d she shrieked. And\nindeed, it seemed to Rob that the water sobbed and moaned as it ran\ndown the sink spout. Suddenly he had an idea.\n\n\u201cIt is too bad to let the beautiful fresh Indian spring water run into\nthe horrid old sewer,\u201d he said. \u201cPlease, Papa, come with me and let me\npour it back into the well.\u201d\n\n\u201cPooh, pooh!\u201d laughed Mr. Evans. \u201cWhat an idea! You are as silly as\nKatie, Rob. I don\u2019t want you to get strange ideas into your head.\nBut--well, come along, since you are so anxious that the famous water\nshould not be wasted. I want to cover up the well tightly, so that no\none can fall in.\u201d\n\nDownstairs they went once more, Rob carrying the pail half full of\nwater, which he poured back into the well. With a glad _splash_ it\njoined the hidden spring far, far below, and again Rob felt sure\nthat he caught the sound of a whispering voice, tinkling, trickling,\nsighing, sobbing, as if it were trying to say something to him, perhaps\nto thank him. He bent over the well, listening eagerly. But his father\npulled him back by the hand.\n\n\u201cCome, Rob,\u201d he said. \u201cI want to put the cover in place, and then we\nmust go upstairs. It is time that you were in bed.\u201d\n\nSo they let down the cover with a _bang!_ and Rob went away with his\nfather out of the dark cellar and into the gaslight. But the sound of\nthose queer little noises followed after him, upstairs and upstairs,\nand even after he was in bed.\n\n\nII\n\nThe queer little sounds followed Rob upstairs, and even after he was in\nbed he could hear them echoing from far below in the cellar. At first\nthey were only little trickly sounds, like water _seekling_ afar off.\nBut by and by, when the house was very still, because everybody except\nRob had fallen sound asleep, the noises grew louder and plainer. They\ngrew into a soft murmur, sometimes a sob, sometimes the whisper of a\nlittle silver voice. And at the same time there was a gentle knocking.\nRob listened and listened as hard as ever he could, and he said to\nhimself,--\n\n\u201cSurely, Katie is right. There is something strange about the cellar,\nand I think it comes from the old well. What can it be?\u201d\n\nFinally the voice sounded so loud and so plain that Rob could hear\ndistinctly what it was saying, and it seemed to be talking to him.\n\n\u201cLet me out; ah, let me out!\u201d cried the silvery, trickly voice, and\nagain Rob heard the knocking. \u201cGood little boy, you who would not let\nthe water of the Indian spring be wasted, come and free me from my\nprison of so many years.\u201d\n\nA prisoner! Some one was shut up in the old well! Rob sat up in bed.\nHe must set the prisoner free. He was not a bit frightened at the\nthought of going down all alone into the cellar, for he knew that there\nwas nothing more to be afraid of in the dark than in the daylight.\nHe got up and thrust his feet into a pair of slippers and put on his\nbath robe. Then very softly, so as not to waken anybody in the house,\nhe crept downstairs: down to the floor where his father and mother\nslept,--he could hear them breathing as he passed the door; down past\nthe library where the books lived and all night long told silent\nstories to one another in the moonlight; down to the empty dining-room,\nand through to the kitchen. Here Rob found a candle on a shelf and\nlighted it. Then, taking this in one hand and holding up his trailing\nbath robe with the other, he stole down the cellar stairs. The voice\nwas calling now louder than ever, and with it sounded the knocking,\nwhich certainly came from the old well.\n\n\u201cLet me out, O kind boy!\u201d sobbed the silvery, tinkling voice. \u201cLet me\nout. Oh! I thought I was free to-day, but alas! Here I remain yet a\nprisoner, for how many more long years? O kind little boy, the first\none to do me a good turn, let me out, let me out!\u201d\n\nRob hastened to the corner in which was the old well. And as he drew\nnear, the voice became plainer and plainer, and the knockings louder\nand louder. He set the candle down on the floor beside the rat-trap\nwhich his father had baited that afternoon, and his heart beat fast as\nhe bent over the cover of the well and seized the iron ring in both\nhands. Should he be able to lift it?\n\nOne--two--three! Rob strained hard, but the cover would not budge.\nOne--two--three, again! It was so heavy for a little boy to lift.\nOne--two--three! Once more! Rob felt the cover move a tiny bit. The\nnoises down in the well had ceased suddenly. It was very still. Rob\ncould hear his heart thumping like the screw of a steamboat. Now,\nfor one last time! One--two--_three_! The cover came up suddenly, so\nsuddenly that Rob nearly went over backward. There below yawned the\ngreat black hole of the well.\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d said Rob, drawing a long breath.\n\n\u201c_Oh!_\u201d Was it an echo, or a soft little voice, far, far below?\n\nRob took up the candle and peered down into the well. But he could\nsee nothing. \u201cIs any one down there?\u201d he asked. At first there was\nno answer, and then there came a tinkly, trickly sound like water\nbubbling, which turned at last into a whispered \u201c_Yes!_\u201d There\ncertainly was some one in the old well!\n\n\u201cWho are you?\u201d said Rob, tingling all over with excitement.\n\n\u201cOh, little friend, kind boy,\u201d said the voice, \u201cI am the Fairy of the\nIndian spring, shut up here for years and years, unable to get out. I\nhave called and called, but you are the first who has come to aid me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat can I do to help you?\u201d asked Rob eagerly.\n\n\u201cLet down the bucket as you did this afternoon,\u201d said the voice. \u201cLet\ndown the bucket and draw me up.\u201d\n\nThe pail with the ball of twine lay close beside the well, where Rob\u2019s\npapa had forgotten it that afternoon. Rob set the candle down on the\nfloor and began to lower the pail into the well. Yard after yard after\nyard the hungry throat swallowed the cord. Finally he heard the pail\nsplash as it reached the water. He waited a moment. The pail bobbed\nabout and then grew heavy on the cord. Then the silver voice cried,\n\u201cDraw up, draw up, kind boy!\u201d\n\nRob pulled on the cord eagerly,--pulled and pulled without looking\ndown into the well, until the pail tinkled against the bricks of the\ncellar floor. In the flare of the candle-light Rob saw that it was full\nof water. But that was not all! Standing with feet braced across the\ntop of the pail, clinging to the cord, was the strangest little figure\nabout six inches high; a little figure dressed all in brown, with black\nhair and bright eyes. When the pail rested on the cellar floor he\nleaped off and stood before Rob, bowing, with one hand laid upon his\nhead.\n\nAnd then Rob saw that it was a tiny Indian. His brown dress was soft\nlike deerskin, and his leggings were fringed. His limp black hair fell\nover a face of red-bronze, with high cheek-bones and pouting lips. In\nhis hair he wore a tiny blue feather, perhaps from a blue jay\u2019s wing,\nand in his hands he carried the sweetest little toy bow, while a quiver\nof inch-long arrows hung on his shoulders. His feet were covered with\nmoccasins, and he was the exact copy of a Wild West Indian; only he\nlooked like one seen through the wrong end of an opera-glass.\n\n\u201cOh--you must be an Indian Fairy,\u201d cried Rob, with his eyes bulging.\n\n\u201cYes, Friend,\u201d said the tiny one. \u201cI am an Indian Fairy, the Fairy\nof the Indian spring. And you have brought me up for the second time\nthis day, though you did not see me the first time. This is the second\ntime during fifty years that I have left the well. Ah, must I go back\nagain?\u201d Despite the warlike appearance of the little man his silvery\nvoice began to tremble.\n\n\u201cTell me all about it,\u201d said Rob soothingly.\n\n\u201cI am the Fairy who lived by the spring years, and years, and years\nago, before the White Men came to Shawmut,\u201d said the Fairy.\n\n\u201cWhat is Shawmut?\u201d asked Rob, wondering.\n\n\u201cShawmut is the Indian name of this place,\u201d said the Fairy. \u201cIt means\nthe Place of Springs, and it was so named because of the many bubbling\nsprings on the hillside above the river. Oh! there were many, many of\nus. I had dozens of brothers. But my spring was in the fairest spot.\nThis water was the sweetest and clearest of any. Heigho! How often the\ngreat braves used to kneel here for a refreshing draught when they\nreturned from the hunt or from war! They never saw me, for I hid in the\nmoss about the spring. But I loved to look at them, they were so big\nand wonderful.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, what did they look like?\u201d asked Rob eagerly, for Rob loved to hear\nabout Indians.\n\n\u201cThey dressed as I do,\u201d said the Fairy. \u201cBut sometimes their faces\nwere painted green or red or blue. And I could see no good in that.\nSometimes they wore tassels of hair at their belts. Ugh! I did not like\nthat fashion. Sometimes their hands were red, and when they went away\nthe waters of my spring were stained. Ugh! Neither did I like that.\nBut they were brave and strong and noble. I loved the Red Men, for\nthey lived out of doors in the sweet sunlight, as I did. They loved\nthe fresh air and the blue sky and the green grass. They would have no\nstifling roof over their heads to shut out the sky; no four walls to\nkeep off the fresh air. Ugh! I cannot breathe in a house. I stifle! I\nchoke!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen how did you come to be shut up in this house?\u201d asked Rob,\nwondering very much.\n\n\u201cListen. The White Men came to Shawmut; White Men with cows and dogs,\nwomen and children. They built houses on the Hill, near the bubbling\nsprings, and planted corn. They drove away the Red Men, and I loved\nthem not, for they were different. They wore ugly dark garments, hats\nand short cropped hair. They lived in close wigwams, and cared nothing\nfor fresh air and blue sky. Neither did they love the trees, but cut\nthem down to burn, and mowed the flowers for their ugly ploughed\nfields. The woods and the streams meant nothing to them but places\nwherein they might hunt and fish, which they did gloomily. For they\nwere solemn folk and sad. They thought it wicked to laugh merrily,\nas the brook laughs, or to smile like the flowers. Even the little\nchildren dared not be too gay, but were afraid of their fathers!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat must have been a horrid time for children,\u201d said Rob.\n\n\u201cAlas! It was indeed a sad time for everybody,\u201d went on the Fairy. \u201cThe\nbrave Red Men were gone. Even the rabbits and squirrels were gone. The\nHill was peopled with solemn and ugly folk, who dared not be happy,\nand it was no longer beautiful as before. Yet I could not go away and\nleave my spring, my dear spring, which ran sweet and clear as ever. It\nwas the favorite fountain of the Puritans, and crouching down under\nthe moss and ferns I watched them come and go, gloomily, filling their\nbuckets and pitchers. But I loved them not, and I hoped that the Red\nMen would come back and drive them away. But the Red Men never came\nagain.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what happened next?\u201d asked Rob, much interested.\n\n\u201cYears went by, and the Hill became crowded with the White Men\u2019s ugly\nwigwams. The springs still bubbled, but it was a sad song that they\nsang, for everything was changed. But that was not the worst. Came\na day when a man built a house over my very spring! He shut in the\nbubbling water under a roof, between four ugly walls, where the blue\nsky could no longer shine upon it nor the fresh air visit it freely!\nAlas! Would that I had escaped before then. I might have gone earlier,\nthough it would have been sorrowful to desert my lonely spring. But I\nhad not guessed what was about to happen until it was too late. I had\nnot thought that even a White Man could be so cruel as to wall up a\nliving spring. I was asleep under the moss and ferns when they raised\nthe roof over me. Alas! I did not even waken at the sound of their\nwicked hammers. But when I opened my eyes it was too late. There was a\nscreen between me and the sky!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy did you not run away?\u201d asked Rob sympathetically.\n\n\u201cOh, you do not understand,\u201d answered the Fairy with a sad little\nsmile. \u201cI might have escaped at any time before the roof covered me.\nBut as soon as there was a roof above my head, and four walls rose\naround me, I was under the magic spell of the White Men. I could not go\naway, even though the doors and windows were yet yawning holes. I must\nremain, even as the well must remain, until some one should take pity\non me and set me free.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd could you find no one to do that in all those years?\u201d cried Rob.\n\n\u201cAlas! No. The people who lived in the house were dull folk who did not\nbelieve in Fairies. For many years and many years I have remained shut\nup in the darkness of this cellar, pining in the deserted well. It is\nquite useless and forgotten. Long ago the ferns and mosses died, and I\nhave no green thing left to love, nothing beautiful to see.\u201d\n\n\u201cPoor Fairy!\u201d said Rob, and the tears stood in his eyes.\n\n\u201cI have cried, I have called, I have knocked on the walls of the well,\u201d\nsaid the Fairy, \u201cbut no one has seemed to hear my voice. Or if folk\nheard they have not understood. Years ago some one who stepped as you\nstep, whose voice sounded like yours--I never saw his face--used to\ncome sometimes and listen at the well, and I heard him wish and wonder.\nBut that was all.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt must have been my father!\u201d exclaimed Rob, remembering what had been\nsaid at the breakfast table.\n\n\u201cBut he could not understand what I tried to tell him,\u201d went on the\nFairy. \u201cHe wondered and walked about, but he always went away without\ndoing anything. It was as if I spoke a foreign language. But you see I\ndo not. You understand me quite well, is it not so?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, yes!\u201d cried Rob. \u201cAnd yet it is very strange. It is not language\nsuch as others speak. It is like trickling water that makes words.\u201d\n\nThe Fairy laughed. \u201cIt is not language at all,\u201d he said. \u201cBut you know\nit. There were women, too; women with loud voices and a curious twist\nto their tongues. They heard my voice, some of them seemed even to\nunderstand what I cried. For I heard them exclaim and wonder and talk\nof the Fairy Folk. The first time that this happened I was hopeful.\nSurely, I said to myself, they know the Fairies. They say that they\ncome from a Green Land where many Fairies live. Surely, surely they\nwill love the Little Men of another country. They will understand why\nI long for green grass and blue sky and fresh air. They will help me\nto escape. But no! They were cowards. They screamed and fainted when\nI spoke from the old well. They must have had wicked hearts, for they\nfeared the Fairies. They dared not come near, but complained to the\nmaster and mistress, and would not live in the same house with me.\u201d\n\n\u201cSilly things!\u201d said Rob. \u201cKatie was one of them.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo to please them the well was covered,\u201d sighed the Fairy, \u201cand then\nit was worse than ever. Think how dark, how lonely, how ugly a home it\nwas for an Indian Fairy who loved the free, open life of outdoors! Oh,\nfor the green woods, the sunshine and blue sky! The song of birds and\nthe odor of flowers! Oh, to feel the soft green moss, and taste the\ndew fresh in the morning! Please let me out, kind boy, that I may know\nthose joys again!\u201d\n\n\u201cDear Fairy,\u201d said Rob hesitatingly, \u201cI am so sorry, but to find all\nthese things, save the sky and air, one must now seek far from here.\nThe White Men have driven them away, just as they drove the Indians,\nthe squirrels, and the rabbits. There is no green grass, there are no\nflowers, no moss, no ferns on all the Hill.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you tell me!\u201d cried the Fairy. \u201cMy Hill is no longer\nbeautiful?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is beautiful,\u201d said Rob. \u201cAt least, the White Men call it so. But\nthe wigwams are thick and very tall, shutting out the sunlight from the\npaths between. And these paths are dusty, hard streets, with neither\ngrass nor trees nor flowers.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, why do White Men try so hard to make the world ugly?\u201d wailed the\npoor Indian Fairy. \u201cHow can they live away from the woods and the\nflowers and the beautiful, beautiful green grass! Where shall I go?\nWhat shall I do?\u201d\n\nRob thought and wondered, and thought again. And at last he had an\nidea. \u201cThere is a green country not so very far from here,\u201d he said.\n\u201cOne goes there in an electric car,--but you don\u2019t know what a car is.\nNever mind. I went there yesterday and brought away some beautiful\nferns, growing in the mossy earth.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, that I might see them!\u201d cried the Fairy eagerly. \u201cOne sniff of\nleafy mould, one breath of the woods lingering about the tufted moss!\nTo lie once more in the shadow of a fern and feel its freshness on my\nface! Where is this woodsy wonder?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is upstairs in my bedroom,\u201d answered Rob. \u201cWill you come with me?\u201d\n\nThe Fairy hesitated, looked at the pail of water resting beside the\nwell, and brightened with a sudden thought.\n\n\u201cYes!\u201d he cried. \u201cI know what may be done. You can set me free, kind\nboy, you only, of all the folk who have come to the Indian spring\nsince the Red Men left it. The spell which binds me to the spring and\nchains me beneath the roof can only be broken when the water is set\nfree again to mother earth. Yesterday I came near to being emptied\ninto the horrible sewer. You heard my cry as the first of the water\nwas lost. You saved me. For had the pail been emptied then I must have\nfollowed. And to what a fate!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt empties at last into the ocean,\u201d said Rob.\n\n\u201cAnd that would have been the end of me,\u201d shivered the Fairy. \u201cSalt\nwater is the one thing which would destroy me utterly. But come now. I\nknow how I may be freed. Take the pail of water and bring me with it to\nthe blessed clump of ferns.\u201d\n\nRob agreed; he took up the candle in one hand and the pail of water in\nthe other. Lightly as a bird the Fairy sprang upon the rim of the pail,\nclinging to the cord. And so they went together up out of the cellar,\nthrough the empty kitchen and dining-room; very softly up the stairs,\npast the library of silent-talking books; up and up, very, _very_\ncreepily past the bedroom door ajar, whence Rob heard the sound of his\nfather and mother snoring peacefully; up and up and up, tiptoeing so as\nnot to wake Katie, to Rob\u2019s own chamber. And there on the window-seat\nstood a big flower-pot with the beautiful ferns which the day before\nRob had dug up in the woods. The Fairy smelled them as soon as he\nentered the room.\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d he cried, laying both little hands on his breast, \u201cHow good that\nis! Dear boy, empty the water quickly from the pail into the earth\nbrought from the woods, and I shall be free to lie under my dear ferns\nonce more.\u201d\n\nRob emptied the pail into the flower-pot. And as the last drop of water\ntrickled from the bucket, with a glad cry that sounded like the tiniest\nof Indian war-whoops, the Fairy leaped into the moist little dell which\nthe ferns made, and curled up against one of the stalks, hugging it\nlovingly.\n\n\u201cDear fern!\u201d he cried. \u201cDear woodsy fern! How sweet you smell. Dear\nmoss, how soft you are! Dear fragrant earth, made of dead leaves and\nall the ripe finished things of the forest! Oh, I am myself once more.\nDear boy, you have made me very happy.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you will live here with me in my chamber, always and always, dear\nFairy?\u201d begged Rob eagerly. \u201cThat will be so good! I shall be happy\nindeed to have you for my little neighbor. And I will never, never tell\nany one about you, nor let them disturb your green home.\u201d\n\nThe Fairy looked at Rob and sighed. \u201cLittle friend,\u201d he said, \u201cI love\nyou dearly. I would gladly make you happy. But I have yet one more\nthing to ask of you. Think of it! Even now I am shut under a White\nMan\u2019s roof,--I, an Indian Fairy! So many years in a foreign wigwam,\nwalled in a dark, skyless well! Oh! Let me go back to the green wood.\nLet me be free once more like the rabbits and the squirrels. Will you\nset me free, even though it means that you will never see me again?\u201d\n\nRob looked at the Fairy and his lip trembled. \u201cI hoped\u201d--he began. But\nhe took a long breath and said to himself, \u201cI will not be selfish. I\nwill be kind and do as I would be done by.\u201d Then he spoke aloud. \u201cTell\nme how I may set you free, dear Fairy, and I will do it.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, my kind friend!\u201d cried the Fairy, \u201cI knew you would be generous!\nThis, then, you shall do for me. I will sleep to-night in your chamber,\nand to-morrow, when the sun is high, you shall take up the ferns out\nof the flower-pot, these ferns all moist with the water of the Indian\nspring. You shall take them up, and me with them,--though you will not\nsee me after daylight,--and carry them to the woods whence you took\nthem. And when you set them back in the ground of the forest where they\ngrew, then I shall be free, free, free! Oh, dear boy, will you do this\nfor me?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I will do this for you,\u201d said Rob gravely.\n\n\u201cThanks, thanks!\u201d cried the Fairy. \u201cAnd now, the night is almost\ndone. I think I feel the daylight coming. You will see me no more.\nBut I shall be sleeping soundly under the fern. And do you likewise\ngo to rest in your little bed. Look! You are shivering with cold! But\nto-morrow do not forget your promise.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not forget,\u201d said Rob, feeling indeed very cold and shivery. He\ncrept away to his little bed, and was soon sound asleep, warm and comfy.\n\n\nIII\n\nIt was late when Rob woke the next morning. At first he thought that\nthe adventure with the Indian Fairy must have been a dream. But as\nsoon as he sat up in bed he saw the tin pail on the floor beside the\nwindow-seat, and the fern moist and green in the flower-pot. So he\nknew that it must all have been true. But he could not see the Fairy\nhimself, though he knew that the little fellow must be snugly curled up\nunder the green fronds of the fern.\n\nWhen he came down to the breakfast table his father and mother were\ntalking earnestly about something.\n\n\u201cIt is a wonder he wasn\u2019t killed!\u201d said his Mamma, shuddering. \u201cWhy did\nyou ever show him that dreadful well?\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall have the cover screwed down,\u201d said Mr. Evans. \u201cIt really isn\u2019t\nsafe. Hello, Son! You walked in your sleep again last night, did you\nknow it? I suppose you don\u2019t remember. But Mamma found one of your\nslippers outside the library door this morning, and Katie found the\nother on the cellar stairs. And Rob! _The cover of the old well was\nopen!_ However did you lift it?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t remember how I lifted it,\u201d said Rob, quite truthfully, and he\nlooked dazed.\n\n\u201cWell, we can\u2019t have this, you know,\u201d said his father. \u201cI shall have to\nlock your door every night. But we will have that old well screwed up\nhereafter. Perhaps that will satisfy Katie, though I think she will not\nbe troubled with any more noises in the wall. She says that there was a\nbig, big rat dead in the trap this morning.\u201d\n\nAnd indeed, nobody ever heard any more noises in the cellar after Rob\nhelped the Indian Fairy to escape. That very morning, right after\nbreakfast,--for it was a Saturday and there was no school,--he dug up\nthe ferns which he had planted in his flower-pot, and put them in a\nlittle basket with the earth around their roots. Then he started to\ntake the electric car which would carry him out of town to the woods.\n\n\u201cWhere are you going, Rob?\u201d asked his Mamma, seeing him with cap in\nhand.\n\n\u201cI am going to take my ferns back to the woods,\u201d Rob answered. \u201cI think\nit is cruel to keep things that love the sunshine and the fresh air\nshut up in a house. I am sure that the ferns would much rather be back\nin the woods, don\u2019t you think so, Mamma?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I am sure I never thought of that!\u201d said his Mamma. \u201cBut you may\ngo if you will be back in time for dinner.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: ROB AND THE INDIAN FAIRY]\n\nSo Rob took the ferns to the woods and set them back in their first\nhome under a big gray rock, the prettiest little spot in the world for\na Fairy to dwell! But he saw nothing more of the Indian Fairy, though\nhe looked and looked; and after he had started for home, went back\nthere again three separate times to look, because he hated to part from\nhis little new friend. But the last time he heard, or thought he heard,\na very tiny, far-off, trickly voice say,--\n\n\u201cFarewell, my friend! Farewell! I am free, free, free! And you shall\nalways be happy when you come to the woods, even if you never see me.\nFor I will make this charm about you, because you were kind. Farewell,\nfarewell!\u201d\n\nAnd this was the last that Rob ever heard of the Indian Fairy, though\nhe went often and often to that same place in the woods; but the Fairy\ncharm did indeed prove true, and Rob was always very, very happy as\nsoon as he came into the woods, happier than he was anywhere else.\n\n\n\n\nFAIRIES\n\n\n  If I should see a Fairy,\n    I should not be afraid,\n  I know so much about them,\n    From all that I have read.\n\n  I\u2019ve planned how I would greet them,\n    And what I ought to say;\n  I\u2019d have my Wish all ready,\n    To save the least delay.\n\n  I sometimes feel them near me,\n    But still I cannot see.\n  I wonder, oh! I wonder,\n    Are they afraid of me?\n\n\n\n\n  The Riverside Press\n  _Electrotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.\n  Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._\n\n\n\n\nTHE FLOWER PRINCESS\n                                                  By ABBIE FARWELL BROWN\n\n\u201cHere is a return to the gracefully romantic fairy stories we all\nused to love. Four tales of adventure in the country where the unreal\ntouches upon the real, prettily illustrated and written with the\nliterary skill that always appeals to the good taste of a child.\u201d\n\n                                                _The Outlook, New York._\n\n\u201cDelicate fancy and humor have gone into the making of these pretty\ntales for children, which prove again Miss Brown\u2019s title to be numbered\namong the story-tellers mothers may depend upon.\u201d\n\n                                       _The Christian Register, Boston._\n\nIllustrated. Square 12mo, $1.00.\n\n  HOUGHTON\n  MIFFLIN\n  & COMPANY\n\n  [Illustration]\n\n  BOSTON\n  AND\n  NEW YORK\n\n\n\n\nBy ABBIE FARWELL BROWN\n\n\nIN THE DAYS OF GIANTS\n\n\u201cMiss Brown relates some of the bravest tales from the brave old sagas\nof the Northland. They have an enchantment which appeals particularly\nto the youthful mind.\u201d\n\n                                                       _New York Globe._\n  Illustrated by E. Boyd Smith.\n  12mo, $1.10, _net_. Postpaid, $1.21.\n\n\nTHE BOOK OF SAINTS AND FRIENDLY BEASTS\n\n\u201cThere is a very tender, sympathetic charm about the book. Miss Brown\nhas chosen a score of stories concerning saints and animals to tell\nagain simply and with a pretty choice of word and phrase.\u201d\n\n                                                         _London Times._\n  Illustrated by F. Y. Cory.\n  12mo, $1.25.\n\n  HOUGHTON\n  MIFFLIN\n  & COMPANY\n\n  [Illustration]\n\n  BOSTON\n  AND\n  NEW YORK\n\n\n\n\nTRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTES:\n\n\n  Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.\n\n  Perceived typographical errors have been corrected.\n\n  Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.\n\n  Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.","title":"The star jewels, and other wonders","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":20964}