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Cover]
The Fairies and the Christmas Child]
_Fr._ "We rocked the cradle" (_Page 182_)]
Title Page]
The Fairies and the Christmas Child By Lilian Gask
The Illustrations are by Willy Pogany
T. Y. Crowell & Co New York
Contents
Chapter Page I. The Fairy Ring 1
II. The Princess with the Sea-Green Hair 25
III. Rose-Marie and the Poupican 45
IV. The Bird at the Window 67
V. The White Stone of Happiness 89
VI. The Seven Fair Queens of Pirou 109
VII. In the Dwarf's Palace 133
VIII. The Silver Horn 157
IX. The Little White Feather 175
X. The Wild Huntsman 197
XI. The White Princess 217
XII. The Favourite of the Fates 239
List of Illustrations
"We rocked the cradle" _Frontispiece_ Page "I fancied that I had seen those wee brown men" 11
"The Fairy Ring was thronged with dancing Elves" 20
"Here a Fairy Princess awaited him" 33
Rose-Marie and the Poupican 54
"They tossed him three times in the air" 63
"She hid herself behind a curtain" 83
"What ails you, Madame Marguerite?" 99
"The Lord of Argouges threw himself on his knees" 114
"They instantly changed into snow-white birds" 129
"The Dwarf invited me to be seated" 141
"Elberich had jeered him finely" 151
"'She is yours, O Otnit!' cried the Dwarf" 154
"In the old man's place sat a little Dwarf" 167
"A little white feather danced above their heads" 189
"'How now?' cried a reassuring voice" 196
"He entreated the maiden to come down" 205
"Went shyly down to meet him" 212
"Lowered herself from her window by means of a rope of pearls" 224
"He tickled the monster's nose" 233
"Pepita rushed into his arms" 253
_To "The Doctor" and Mrs. Macnaughton-Jones my "Good Fairies" and best of Friends_]
Chapter I
The Fairy Ring
The worst of being a Christmas Child is that you don't get birthdaypresents, but only Christmas ones. Old Naylor, who was Father'scoachman, and had a great gruff voice that came from his boots and wasrather frightening, used to ask how I expected to grow up without properbirthdays, and I thought I might have to stay little always. When I toldFather this he laughed, but a moment later he grew quite grave.
"Listen, Chris," he said. And then he took me on his knee--I was a smallchap then--and told me things that made me forget old Naylor, and wishand wish that Mother could have stayed with us. The angels had wantedher, Father explained; well, we wanted her too, and there were plentyof angels in heaven, anyway. When I said this Father gave me a greatsqueeze and put me down, and I tried to be glad that I was a Christmaschild. But I wasn't really until a long time afterwards, when I hadfound the Fairy Ring, and met the Queen of the Fairies.
This was how it happened. Father and I lived at one end of a big town,in a funny old house with an orchard behind it, where the sparrows atethe cherries and the apple trees didn't flower. Once upon a time, saidFather, there had been country all round it, but the streets and theroads had grown and grown until they drove the country away, and nowthere were trams outside the door, and not a field to be seen. I oftenthought that our garden must be sorry to be so crowded up, and that thiswas why it wouldn't grow anything but weedy nasturtiums and eveningprimroses.
Father is a doctor, and most awfully clever. If you cut off the top ofyour finger, he'd pop it on again in no time, and he used to cure allsorts of illnesses with different coloured medicines he made himselfbehind a screen.
But though he had lots and lots of patients--sometimes the surgery wasfull of them, 'specially on cold nights when there was a fire--theydidn't seem to have much money to give him, and sometimes they ranaway with their furniture in the night so's not to pay their bills.This worried Father dreadfully, and even Santa Claus was scared awayby the things he said. On Christmas Eve the old fellow quite forgotto fill my stocking. It was all limp and empty when I woke in themorning, and if I hadn't remembered that when I grew up I was going tobe a Commander-in-Chief, I should never have swallowed that lump in mythroat.
Father couldn't even take me to hear "Hark The Herald Angels" at the bigchurch down the road that day, for someone sent for him in a hurry, andwhen he didn't come in for dinner, I wished it wasn't Christmas at all.Nancy Blake, who kept house for us and was most stingy over raisins,banged the kitchen door when I said I would make her some toffee, andI couldn't find anything else to do. I looked at all my books andpretended I was a soldier in a lonely fort; then I thought I would makeup medicine myself, so's to save Father trouble when he came home. But Iburnt my fingers with some nasty stuff in a green bottle, and it hurt agood deal. So I determined to go to meet him, and tell him what I'ddone.
"Nancy Blake."]
The trams were running as usual, and as I had a penny left out of mypocket money--I hadn't spent it before as it had got stuck in somebulls' eyes--I took the car to the corner; then I jumped out and walked.There wasn't a sign of Father all down the road, and I remembered atlast that he had said he must look in at the Hospital, which was inquite a different direction. I should have gone home then, if it hadn'tbeen so dull with no one but Nancy Blake.
"He won't be back until tea time anyhow," I thought, and I made up mymind to be a boy scout, and go and explore.
It was a splendid day, and the roofs of the shops and houses glitteredfrom millions of tiny points, just as you see on Christmas cards. Iwalked on and on, feeling gladder every moment, for my fingers had leftoff hurting me and I knew that I couldn't be far from the woods, whichwere just outside the town. I had been there once with Father, and itwas lovely; so I hurried on as quickly as I could.
When I got there they made me think of Fairyland. The trees weresparkling with the same frost-diamonds I had noticed on the roofs, andthrough the criss-cross branches above my head the sky was as blue asblue. A jolly little robin was twittering in a bush, enjoying himself noend; his bright red breast reminded me of the holly I had stuck overFather's mantelpiece, and I began to feel sad again. For it did seemhard lines that though Christmas was my birthday, no one, not evenFather, had thought of it.
"I wish that I hadn't been born on Christmas Day!" I said aloud, when Ihad reached the very heart of the wood, and I sat down to rest on thestump of a tree close to a little circle of bright green. It was hereI had come that day with Father
, and he had told me that though it wascalled a "Fairy Ring," it was really made by the spread of a very smallfungus, or mushroom. I liked the idea of the fairy ring much better, andas I touched it with my foot I wished again that I wasn't a Christmaschild. And then I heard a sigh.
It wasn't the robin, for he was still twittering on his bush, and itwasn't the wind, for the air was quite sheltered behind the bank, whichwas sweet with wild thyme in summer. The next moment I heard anothersigh, and this seemed to come from a frond of bracken just outside thefairy ring. It was brown and withered, but the frost had silvered it allover, and as I looked at it I saw the loveliest little creature you canimagine clinging to the stem. She was only about three inches high, buther tiny form was full of grace, and her eyes so bright and beautifulthat they shone like stars. Her hair was the palest silver-gold, andshe had a crown of diamonds and an amethyst wand that sparkled when shemoved it. The scarf wreathed round her shoulders flashed all the coloursof mother-of-pearl, and throwing it from her she hummed to herself alittle song about violets and eglantine, and sweet musk roses. Her noteswere as clear as the lark's, and as if she had called them, more Fairiesshowed amidst the bracken.
They were lovely too, though not so lovely as she. One was dressed inpink, like a pink pea; another had a long grey coat, spangled with dropsof dew, while the third had wings like a big grey moth, and the smallestElf was all in brown.
"It is Titania who sings," chirped the robin in my left ear; "Titania,the Queen of the Fairies, though some call her the fair Queen Mab!" Andhe hopped to the foot of the frond of bracken and made a funny littleduck with his head.
"Good bird!" cried Titania, breaking off her song. "You, too, singthrough the winter gloom, and are here to welcome the sweet o' theyear." Then she pointed her gleaming wand at me, and shook her head.
"O Christmas child," she said reproachfully, "it is well that it was Iwho heard you, and not my brave lord Oberon, who has less patience withmortal folly. So you wish you had not been born on Christmas Day? Why,'tis the day most blessed in all the year--the day when the King ofKings sent peace and goodwill to Man in the form of the Christ Child. Itis His birthday as well as yours, and in memory of Him the Fairies showthemselves to Christmas children, if they are pure in heart and word anddeed. Your Mother knew this, and she was glad. She called you 'Chris' toremind you always which day you came."
And then I was sure that I hadn't been dreaming after all, though Nancysaid, "Stuff and Nonsense," when I fancied that I had seen those weebrown men busy about the house on winter mornings, or flitting inshadowy corners at night, before she lit the gas. I had never spoken tothem, for I thought if I did they might run away; but I was pleased toknow they had been real.
"You would have seen us before," said Titania, "but you live in a bigtown, and your eyes were dimmed with smoke and fog. My dainty Elves lovedales and streams, and the depths of forests; in spring they throngthe meadows, decking the cowslips' coats of gold at early dawn withsplotches of ruby, my choicest favours, and hanging pearls in theirdainty ears. In summer they sleep in the roseleaves, and ride behindthe wings of butterflies, while in winter they hush the babble of thebrooks, and powder the branches of the trees with frost to hide theirnakedness. Away with you, Peas-blossom, Cobweb, Moth, and Mustard-seed!Go, freeze the fingers of Father Time into glassy icicles, and forgetnot to seek for crimson berries on which our friends the birds may feedat morn!"
I fancied that I had seen those wee brown men]
She clapped her hands, and the Fairies fled. I wondered why she did notfall, since she no longer clung to the frond of bracken; but her tinyfeet were firmly planted in the fork of a leaf, and behind her glinted apair of wings which had been invisible before. As I watched her Ithought of a question I had often wanted to ask.
"Where do Fairies come from?" I said, hoping she would not be offended.
"Ah," she replied, "that is more than I may tell you. But we were here,in these very islands, long before the people of the woods, and thewhite-haired Druids who worshipped the God of the Oak. There werespirits then, as now, in streams and rivers, and sweet-voiced Sirens inthe deep blue sea. Some Fairies rode on magic horses, and some were evensmaller than I, and lived in the ears of the yellow corn. Dagda then wasthe King of the Fairies, a mighty spirit whose cauldron was supposedto be the vast grey dome of the sky. Those were the days of Witches,Dwarfs, and Giants, and little people who lived in the hills, and manyother Fairies known by different names.
We are found in various guises all over the world, but our home is saidfirst to have been in Persia. There dwelt the ancient Jinn who hauntedthe mountain recesses and the forest wilds ages before the first mantrod the earth. Here, too, were Deevs, malicious creatures of terriblestrength who warred with our sisters, the Peries. These exquisitecreatures abode at Kaf, in the deep green mountains of Chrysolite, therealm of Pleasure and Delight, wherein was the beauteous Amber City.Some day you may go to Persia, and then, if you meet a Peri, she willtell you how a mortal man once came to her sisters' rescue, andconquered the wicked Deevs."
The thought of meeting a Peri took my breath away, for I had read aboutthem on winter evenings.
"Do you mean that wherever I go I shall see the Fairies, just as I seeyou now?" I cried.
"Wherever you go!" she said, nodding her head, "and soon I believe youwill cross the sea and travel through other lands. But you must notthink," she went on earnestly, "that the Fairies in your own country areless worth knowing, for you might spend your life in making friends withthem, and yet have much to learn."
I can't remember half of all that Titania told me after this, but shespoke of fair White Elves who live among the trees, and are ruled by aKing who rides abroad in a beautiful little coach with trappings of goldand silver; of mischievous Black Elves who live underground, and hauntpeople with nasty tempers; of Nymphs and Gnomes and sad-faced Trolls,and of Brownies and Portunes and Pixies. I should have liked to hearmore about the Brownies and Portunes, but it was fun to learn how theBrownies play tricks on lazy people who lie in bed and won't get up,pulling the clothes right off them, and throwing these on the floor,and of how they help the farmers' wives to bake and brew if they areclean and neat. Titania said that Fairies dislike people who are untidy,and I hoped that she hadn't seen my playbox or my chest of drawers. Imade up my mind that directly I got home I would put them straight, andso that she might not notice how red I had grown, I asked her to tell mewhat Portunes were.
The "Portunes" were queer creatures.]
"Queer little wrinkled creatures with faces like old men," she said."They wear long green coats covered with darns and patches, and are onlyfound now in the depths of the country. They like to live on prosperousfarms, and though some of them are barely an inch high, they can liftheavier weights than the strongest labourer. Like the Brownies, they canbe mischievous as well as helpful. A farmer once offended a Portune byspeaking disrespectfully of his kindred, and the next time that the goodman rode home from market in the dusk, the little fellow sprang on tothe horse's reins, and guided him into the bog. Both horse and man hadto flounder out as best they could, and the farmer was carefulhenceforth to mind his tongue."
"And what are Pixies like?" I asked. She had said that I reminded her ofone of these, so of course I was curious about them.
"They are much taller than we are, and very fair," answered Titania,"with blue-grey eyes like yours. If you want to meet them, you must goto Devonshire, for it is there that they make their home. They love theferns and the heather, and the rich red earth, and live in a Pixy-housein a rock. They, also, are ruled by a King, who commands them as I domy Elves and Fays, despatching them hither and thither to do his will.Sometimes he sends them down to the mines, to show the men who workthere where the richest lode is to be found; and if the miners grumble,or are discontented, the Pixies lead them astray by lighting falsefires. On other occasions they are told off to help the villagers withtheir housework, and their attentions are warmly welcomed by the Devonfolk. One good
dame was so pleased with the help a ragged little Pixiewho had torn her frock on a sweet-briar bush gave her with her spinning,that she made her a new set of clothes of bright green cloth, and laidthese by the spinning wheel. The Pixy put them on at once, and singing
"Pixy fine, Pixy gay, Pixy now will run away!"
sped out of the house in broad daylight, and, alas! she never came backagain."
"Ho! ho! ho!" laughed a merry voice, and a shock-headed little fellowswung himself down from a bough just behind me, and turned a somersaulton the ground.
"Welcome, gay Puck!" Titania cried. "Whence do you come, and what do youdo this night?"
"I come from the court of King Oberon, sweet Titania," answered the Elf,"and to-night I plait the manes and tails of Farmer Best's grey horses.At early dawn I shall skim the cream off the milk in his good wife'sdairy, since yester-e'en she grudged a drink of it to an orphan child.'Robin Goodfellow has been here!' she will cry when she sees what I havebeen after, and her greedy old eyes will fill with tears. That is oneof my pet names, Wide-eyes," he added, hopping on to my shoulder andpinching my ear. "I am also Pouke, Hobgoblin, and Robin Hood. But whereare the Urchins, my merry play-fellows? It is high time that they werehere, for the lady moon has hung her lamp i' the sky."
"The Fairy Ring was thronged with dancing Elves"]
The clouds were all tinted a deep rose pink, and behind the trees, justwhere the moon had risen, was a haze of purple. I knew by this that itmust be nearly tea-time, and I was just going to say that I must go,when Titania left the frond of bracken, and alighted in the centre ofthe Fairy Ring. Waving her wand, she summoned her "gladsome sprites,"and next moment the Fairy Ring was thronged with dancing Elves who worered caps and silver shoes, with bright green mantles buttoned with bobsof silk. Puck flew to join them, but Peas-blossom, Cobweb, Moth, andMustard-seed, who sprang from nowhere, danced in an inner circle roundthe Fairy Queen. They sang as they danced, and this is their song. Ifound it afterwards in a book of Father's, which he said had in it morewonderful things than all books in the world but one:
"By the moon we sport and play, With the night begins our day. As we frisk the dew doth fall, Trip it, little urchins all. Lightly as the little bee, Two by two and three by three, And about goe wee, goe wee."
"And about goe wee, goe wee!" echoed down the glade, and then theElves suddenly disappeared, with Puck and Titania and her attendants.
The wood was growing darker every minute, but the sparkles of frost wereglittering still, and lit my way. At the end of the scrub I saw Fathercoming to meet me, swinging down the road with such long steps that helooked like a kindly big giant. He had guessed where I had gone, and hewas so pleased to find me that he forgot to say I mustn't explore anymore without him, as I was afraid he would. He took my hand, and we bothran; it was lovely at home by the fire.
I meant to have told him about Queen Titania while we were having tea,but Nancy had made such scrumptious cakes that there wasn't time atfirst, and before I had finished he began to open the letters that hadcome just after he left that morning. They seemed to be all bills, andFather sighed as he looked them over, his forehead puckered into rucksand lines. Presently he came to a big blue envelope, and he turnedthis round and round as if he thought there might be something horridinside. The paper crackled like anything as he drew it out, and when itwas unfolded he sat looking at it for a long time, though there didn'tseem to be much writing. At last he gave an odd kind of gasp, and tookmy face between his hands. He pressed it so hard that he made me say"O!" though I didn't want to do this, and I wondered what had happened.
"Your great-aunt Helen is dead, Chris," he said at last, as he let mego. "I haven't seen her for years and years.... She was not over kind tome when I was a lad, though I believe she meant well.... And now she'sleft us all her money. We shan't be poor any more."
This was the beginning of ever so many surprises. First, Father and Ihad warm new overcoats, with woolly stuff inside them that felt likeblankets, only much more soft and fluffy, and Nancy had the blue silkdress she always vowed that she should buy when her ship came home.There was a fire every night in Father's study, and I had one in mybedroom. More patients came up for soup than they did for medicine, andthey said "God bless you, Sir!" to Father so often that he wanted to runaway. The children in the hospital had the biggest tree that the wardwould hold, and all the old men and women in the workhouse had a bigtea, and shawls and mufflers.
A few weeks later a strange young man with a very shiny collar and a newbrown bag came to stay with us. Father said he was a "locum," but Nancysaid it ought to be "locust," for his appetite was enormous, and shecouldn't make enough buttered toast to please him. He had come to takecare of Father's patients until someone bought all the medicines andthings in the surgery, and I was awfully glad to hear we were goingaway.
"We'll go straight to the sunshine, Chris," said Father, "where thereare trees and flowers instead of long rows of houses, and the air isn'tfull of smoke."
And that night I dreamt all about fairies, and of what I was going tosee and hear in foreign lands.
The "Locust."]