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[Illustration]

[Illustration: GOING TO THE MIDSUMMER BALL.]




                   THE

              FAIRY NIGHTCAPS.

             BY THE AUTHOR OF
  THE FIVE NIGHTCAP BOOKS, "AUNT FANNY'S STORIES,"
                 ETC., ETC.

                 NEW YORK:
           D. APPLETON & COMPANY,
             443 & 445 BROADWAY.
          LONDON: 16 LITTLE BRITAIN.
                   1861.




  ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, by
                       FANNY BARROW,
  In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the
                 Southern District of New York.




             TO MASSA CHARLES,
  WHOSE MOST LOVABLE QUALITIES WERE BUT FAINTLY
             PORTRAYED IN THE
           FIRST NIGHTCAP BOOK,
                  THIS
      THE SIXTH AND LAST OF THE SERIES,
            IS AFFECTIONATELY
                 Dedicated.




PREFACE TO THE CHILDREN.


DEAR CHILDREN,

Here is the last Nightcap book, making six in all. The story of "The
Three Little Fishes" was taken (but very much altered) from a clever
book for grown folks, written, I believe, nearly two hundred years
ago; but all the rest is true, "real true."

I have written them out with my heart full of love and good wishes
for you, and _you_, and YOU; and my only desire in return is,
that down in a cosy corner of your dear little hearts, you will keep warm,
one kind thought of your loving

                AUNT FANNY.




CONTENTS.


                                                                    PAGE

    THE FAIRIES' LIFE; WITH AN ACCOUNT OF WHAT THEY DID IN THE
    BEAUTIFUL HOLLOW,                                                  9

    THE CHILDREN'S LIFE; WITH THEIR JOURNEY TO WEST POINT,            37

    THE FAIRIES' LIFE; WITH AN ACCOUNT OF THE MIDSUMMER BALL,         77

    THE CHILDREN'S LIFE; WITH AN ACCOUNT OF IDLEWILD, THE STAG DANCE,
    THE BATTLE OF THE FAIRIES, &c.,                                  145

    THE DEATH OF CHARLEY,                                            209




FAIRY NIGHTCAPS.




THE FAIRIES' LIFE.


In the deep shadow of the Highlands, at the foot of the old Crow Nest
Mountain, is a wild and beautiful hollow, closed around on every side
by tall trees, interlaced together by the clasping tendrils of the
honeysuckle, and the giant arms of luxuriant wild grape-vines.

The mossy edge of this magic circle is thickly embroidered with
violets, harebells, perfumed clover-blossoms, and delicate, feathery
ferns. A little brook, overhung with grasses and whispering leaves,
dances and dimples in the bright sunlight and soft moonbeams, and then
trips away, to offer the wild-rose leaves that have fallen upon his
bosom to his beloved tributary lord, the great Hudson River.

Not a bat dare spread his unclean leathern wings across this charmed
place, and the very owls that wink and blink in the hollow trees near
by keep their unmusical "hoot toot" to themselves.

In the short young velvety grass, a starry daisy, or a sly little
cowslip, peeps up here and there, but nothing else disturbs the
lawn-like smoothness, save a tiny mound of green moss near the centre
of the hollow, shaped marvellously like a throne.

It was the night of the eighteenth of June; and evidently there was
something of importance about to happen in the beautiful hollow, for
presently a train of glow-worms came marching gravely in, and arranged
themselves in a circle around the mossy throne; while thousands of
fire-flies flashed and twinkled through the trees. The soft,
coquetting wind wandered caressingly among the flowers, and the
moonbeams rested with a sweeter, tenderer light, upon the little brook
which murmured and rippled, and gave back many a glancing, loving
beam.

Suddenly a silvery tinkling bell was heard, like music at a distance.
Twelve times it sounded; and immediately after an invisible chorus of
sweet tiny voices were heard singing:

  "Hasten, Elfin! hasten, Fay!
  From old Crow Nest wing your way;
  Through the bush and dewy brake,
  Fairies, hasten, for the sake
  Of a mortal, whose pure breath
  Soon will fade, and sink in death:
  We for him sweet dreams will find,
  We will fill with balm the wind;
  Watch his young life glide away,
  Deck with beauty its decay--
  Till the closing earthly strife,
  Opens into heavenly life."

Instantly the air seemed filled with streams of light like falling
stars; the booming sound of humble-bees was heard, as fairy knights
and ladies came hastening to the call through the moon-lit air; the
knights pricking their chargers with their wasp-sting spurs, and the
ladies urging theirs quite as fast with their sweet, coaxing voices.

The grave, elderly fairies, came more soberly. They crept out from
under the velvet mullen leaves, and gravely mounted their palfreys,
which were small field mice, and held them well in, with corn-silk
bridles; for elderly fairies are inclined to be gouty, and don't like
to do any thing in a hurry; like other people, they are apt to go too
fast when they are young--and to balance the matter, are very slow
coaches when they are old.

Several ancient ladies, who had been napping in a secluded nook at the
root of an old tree, waited for their nutshells and four to be brought
up; and as the coach-horses were represented by hairy, white
caterpillars--who were so short-legged, that they took the longest
possible time to get over the ground--and as the ancient fairies had
much ado to fold their wings, and arrange their crinoline in their
carriages, you may be sure they were very fashionably late.

And now a strain of delicious music filled the air, the glow-worms
lighted up brilliantly, and the dew grew heavy with fragrance, as the
Fairy Queen, with a bright train of attendants, floated past in dark
green phaetons, made of the leaves of the camelia, and drawn by
magnificently painted butterflies, harnessed and caparisoned with
gold.

The dignity and queenly presence of her Majesty would have rendered
her conspicuous above the rest, even if her tiny golden crown and
sceptre, tipped with a diamond that blazed like a meteor, had not
indicated that she was a monarch; and the acclamations that rose on
all sides attested the attachment her subjects felt for her person.

She was indeed most lovely; and kind and generous beyond words to
describe; and she had called her court together this very night to do
that which makes both fairies and mortals lovelier and better, with
every new effort. Do you know what it is? It is, _trying to add to the
happiness of another_.

And now the Queen and her maids of honor gracefully alighted with the
eagerly proffered assistance of the fashionable young fairy dandies;
and the court gathered respectfully around, as the beautiful Queen
seated herself on her throne, and gently waved her sceptre to command
attention.

"My lords, ladies, and gentlemen," said her Majesty, in a voice of
perfect music, "I have called you together three nights before our
opening midsummer festival, because I know by my fairy power, that a
mortal--a gentle, lovely boy--will arrive here to-morrow, across
whose young life the harsh wings of pain and affliction have passed.
For a month or more he has so drooped and faded, that I fear, before
long, his pure life will be ended. His mother watches over him with
the undying, untiring love, which only a mother knows. We can help
her, my beloved subjects, and we will; we can steal the venom from his
painful sleep, by giving him fairy dreams; and on our gala nights we
will gently lift him from his couch, and bring him here. His sweet
presence will cast no shadow on our festivities, so pure and lovely
have been all the thoughts, words, and actions of his short life."

A murmur of pleasure rose from the assembled court, and the good and
beautiful Queen saw with delight, that her proposal had given pleasure
to all her subjects, with one exception; and he was her very honest,
but still more disagreeable prime minister, who, being a sour,
meddlesome old bachelor, hated children. His temper was not
particularly sweet just then, because he was making wry faces over an
attack of the gout in his great toe, from indulging too freely in
May-dew wine, and eating too often of roasted tiger-lily, which is a
very highly seasoned dish, and difficult to digest, unless you take
immediately after eating, half a dozen lady-slipper pills, which my
lord the prime minister never would take, on account of the name--for
of course, if he hated children he hated the ladies also--and as I
was saying, he felt very cross, and inclined to find fault with any
thing anybody else proposed; so making as low a bow as his stiff back
would permit, he began, with an abominable nasal twang: "May it please
your Majesty, who is this child you deign to favor so highly?"

"He is called Lame Charley!" graciously answered the Queen. "He is the
darling of all who know him."

"Are there any other children in the family, my liege?" snarled the
prime minister.

"About three dozen, more or less," answered the Queen, frowning
slightly, for she was not quite certain as to the number, and did not
like to be questioned. "Humph!" grumbled the prime minister. Then
muttering to himself, "Three dozen children! all eating dreadful
pumpkin-pie--with cheeks like saddle-bags, and voices loud enough to
make a mummy jump out of his skin in an ecstasy of astonishment at the
noise! was there ever such a foolish freak?" whereupon, taking out his
beetle-back snuff-box, and giving it the traditional taps, he helped
himself to such a prodigious pinch, by way of consolation, that he was
obliged to retire precipitately behind the honeysuckles, and nearly
cracked his left wing by a tremendous fit of sneezing. For let me tell
you that the pollen, or dust of the snap-dragon, properly dried,
makes very powerful fairy snuff, and I advise you not to try it.

The maids of honor had great difficulty to keep from bursting out
laughing at the flight of the cross old prime minister; and the Queen
pretended to arrange her bodice, made of the gossamer wing of the
katydid, to hide a smile; but now, reclining on her throne, and
gracefully fanning herself with her right wing, she indulged in a
pleasant chat with her favorites, about Charley.

"Dear Cowslip!" she began, "I am so interested in this lovely boy.
Will you assist me to watch over him, and keep away all harm from his
loving brothers and sisters? Particularly we will protect them from
the Kelpies, those hateful water-sprites, who would drag them down to
their dark caves beneath the wave, if once the children ventured upon
their realm. We will bid their little mother to warn them from getting
into row-boats, or wading out into the river; the Kelpies shall
content themselves with water-rats and tadpoles for this time, for too
many lovely children have already been sacrificed to their cruel
spite."

"Ah, beloved Queen!" answered Cowslip, "I, for one, will help you with
heart and will; those damp, wretched little goblins shall not hurt a
hair of their heads."

"And I, with might and main, will do your behest!" said the handsome
young Ripple, twisting his mustache.

"And I, gracious Queen!" cried the pretty Lota, "for I dearly love
children."

"And I, your Majesty," said Beeswing with Ripple and Firefly, "will
order our regiment--the seventh--to encamp under the sedges on the
shore, half to keep watch, while the other half sleep in the swaying
branches of the water-willows."

"Give us something to do for the dear children, dearest Queen!" cried
Dewdrop and Lilliebelle, two of the most famous beauties of the court,
and, what is far better, as good as they were beautiful; "let us also
help to make them happy."

"Well said, fair ladies and brave knights!" exclaimed the Queen; "with
such true and loyal assistance, my labor of love will be most
delightful. Come now--to the dance--while they are preparing supper."

She clapped her tiny hands thrice, and immediately the fairy band
commenced playing the most enchanting dances; and the beautiful hollow
was speedily filled with couples, whisking away in such rapid
evolutions, that you would have thought they would soon tumble head
over heels, from sheer dizziness; but as the dances were, after all,
not very different from ours, I suppose the fairies were quite as well
used to the rushing style; and, in good truth, as they were _fairies_,
it seemed more in keeping, for these rapid, gracefully undulating
movements, were the very poetry of motion.

Of course the elderly gentlemen fairies lounged among the
honeysuckles, and talked politics, and quarrelled dreadfully about who
should be the next President; for they took an immense interest in the
affairs of us mortals; and the elderly lady fairies just as much, of
course, pulled the characters of their best friends to pieces, without
so much as a single regret; while the lovely young Queen, with
half-a-dozen of her favorites, after dancing once, to set the fashion,
ordered her pages to shake down a perfect shower of wild-rose leaves,
on the edge of the hollow, of which they made soft and freshly
perfumed couches; and there they listened to the exquisite music, and
watched the dancers, and gaily devised plans for the comfort of our
dear little friend, Lame Charley.

While they were thus conversing, a queer little elfin sped down one of
the moonbeams, like a flash of summer lightning, and in an instant was
on his knee before the Queen.

It was the fairy, Slyboots, the Queen's favorite messenger, and the
most mischievous sprite in her dominions.

"Welcome, good Slyboots," cried the Queen; "by your bright eyes and
unsoiled wings, methinks you must have fulfilled our commands
faithfully. How fared you? and how did you find our dear 'Nightcap'
family?"

"Most gracious Majesty! I hurried to the great city, without folding
wing; merely stopping a moment to torment a miserly old landlord, who,
the day before, had turned a poor widow, with two little children, out
of his tenement house, because she was not quite ready with the rent.
I put a great fly on his nose, and a great flea in his ear, and
ordered them to stay there, and buzz, and bite him, till he went
nearly into fits."

A chorus of sweet fairy laughter greeted this mad-cap caper, and
Slyboots embraced the opportunity to whisper something to a small
brown spider, who had been listening with all his ears, and staring at
Slyboots with all his eyes, of which he had more than his share, and
who immediately scampered off with all his legs.

"Then, your Majesty," continued the elfin, "I hastened on, and flew
through the window into the room where Charley slept. All was sweet,
still, and hushed; and oh! how pure and lovely the pale boy looked, as
he lay there, his hands folded across his breast. As I gazed, a
radiant smile parted his lips, and a faint color came into his white
cheek. He was dreaming--his soul was full of holy thoughts--and the
smile had come, as he saw in his dream the Beautiful Home above, for
which he was preparing.

"The little mother, looking wearied with watching, lay upon a couch
near him. As I hovered over her, a large tear crept from under her
closed eyelid, and a quick convulsive sob broke from her breast. She
too was dreaming, dreaming of the sorrowful time when her darling
would be taken from her.

"I swept my wings lightly across her brow, and bade her waken. She
opened her eyes, looked upon Charley, and rising, with a sigh of
relief, she murmured: 'I have thee yet, oh my child! my darling!' and
hastening to him, she softly drew back the golden curls from his
forehead, sprinkled a few drops of grateful, refreshing perfume upon
his pillow, and then, tenderly touching his cheek with her loving
lips, went comforted back to her couch.

"The rest of the children were in the other rooms, fast asleep in
two-story cribs, and various dear little beds; and I left some of
them laughing merrily in their sleep, by telling them one or two
ridiculous anecdotes about your Majesty's stuffy old prime min----"

"Silence, Slyboots!" cried the Queen, trying not to laugh. "You shall
not make fun of our minister to our face. Go and order the supper."

Slyboots grinned sideways at the maids of honor, but bowed, with a
great show of penitence, to his Queen. Retiring from the presence, he
placed a tiny bugle, fashioned out of a small honeysuckle, to his
lips, and blew a shrill, peculiar blast.

It was perfectly well understood, for in an instant, a hundred small
pink and white mushrooms sprang out of the earth, making the most
delightful little tables imaginable, quite equal to the finest
satin-wood, upon which the fairy servants and pages hastened to place
dishes of rose-leaves filled with honey-dust, and golden buttercups of
sparkling May-dew, which, having been bottled up for six weeks, foamed
and effervesced, and gave out a most exquisite aroma.

This was for the young fairies, who cared only for sweets. The elderly
fays were to be feasted upon broiled fly's legs, brought up hot, and
each one was rolled up in a leaf of pepper-grass, which gave them a
very piquant seasoning. These were garnished with small pearls,
steeped and softened in crab-apple vinegar, sharp enough and sour
enough to draw squeals from a Japanese ambassador, who never smiles
or squeals at any thing.

When all was ready, the fairies sat down at the tables, in pleasant
little parties of four and six, while the band played the most admired
fairy opera airs. But before the banquet was through, I am sadly
afraid some of the gay young fellows forgot they were in the presence
of ladies, they laughed so loud, and talked so much nonsense, and one
of them came very near upsetting the table at which he sat, spilling
his buttercup of dew all over the new gossamer dress of Lilliebelle,
who was next to him.

But this was nothing to the uproar which arose when the old prime
minister, who had been eating flies' legs, and little pearl pickles,
till he could scarcely breathe, attempted to leave his seat. The
little brown spider, sent by that mischievous Slyboots, had been hard
at work fastening his wings together in a net, and then tying them in
a most complicated cobweb knot to the honeysuckle vine just behind
him. The old prime minister fairly howled with rage; he turned and
twisted from side to side; he kicked and made awful faces at Slyboots,
who was giggling and laughing, and shaking his wings with glee at a
safe distance. An impudent mosquito came past, and sneered out in his
abominable nasal drone, "You don't seem to like a net any better than
I do;" while myriads of midges up in the air danced around him,
singing, Why-don't-you-get-out? Why-don't-you-get-out? Why-don't-you-
get-out? to which myriads of others answered, He-would-if-he-could-
but-he-couldn't! He-would-if-he-could-but-he-couldn't! He-would-if-
he-could-but-he-couldn't!

At last the Queen, who had been giving some private orders, inquired
what all the noise and laughter meant; and, in great anger with
Slyboots for thus turning her old prime minister into ridicule,
ordered the saucy goblin to draw his sword and release the old
minister. The young fairy knights hastened to help, for they all liked
Slyboots, and a tremendous slashing and cutting at the cobweb net
ensued, which speedily released the poor old prime minister, who went
off breathing fury and vengeance.

But hark! What is that? A faint, far-off tramp is heard; the galloping
hoofs of the steeds of the morning were sounding in the eastern sky,
and the stir of their coming rustled the leaves that crowned the tops
of the grand old trees. The first cock-crow was heard in the distance,
and the fairy sentinels sounded the coming of the dawn loud and clear
on their great morning-glory trumpets, from the top of old Crow Nest.
The sky became dappled, and a rosy streak marched up to the zenith
like the banner of a herald.

Up sprang the knights and ladies and mounted their chargers; the Queen
and her maids entered their phaetons; the elderly fairies made what
haste their dignity permitted to their nutshells and four, and
field-mice palfreys, and away they all sped; some through the air,
some through the velvety grass; banners flying, and music playing,
until naught was left but a shining trail that melted into the first
bright golden beam of the morning.




THE CHILDREN'S LIFE.


It was early in the sweet summer time. The young green leaves were
bending over, and tenderly caressing the budding fruit and flowers,
and the air was balmy with orchard blooms.

Your old friends, the Nightcap children, were as merry and happy and
well as ever, except Charley--poor lame Charley. He was much worse;
his sufferings had greatly increased with the dreadful hip disease,
and a terrible cough racked his delicate and wasted frame. Death had
been coming slowly on for a long time; but now he hastened his
footsteps, and Charley knew that he should never see another summer in
this world. He was not _afraid_ to die--oh, no! the guileless, holy
life of the gentle boy had robbed death of its sting. He well knew
that _this_ life was but a small part of our career, and the
separation from those he loved so well, would be short. His faith in
his Saviour was perfect and entire. _He_ would soften the pang of
parting to those left behind, and _He_ would guide them with unchanged
love to their darling in heaven.

The good little mother was advised by the doctor to take Charley into
the country, somewhere up the beautiful Hudson River, among those
grand old hills where the air is so bracing and pure.

It happened, fortunately, that one of her oldest friends, who was an
officer at West Point, was obliged to leave there upon some government
expedition for about three months; and he offered his pretty cottage
to his friend for that time. This was most delightful, as Charley
could have far more comfort living in this way than in a
boarding-house; and the rest of the children would not have to be tied
up by the leg to the bedposts, because their noise disturbed other
people.

So the little mother gladly and gratefully accepted the offer, and was
now very busy making up dozens of petticoats and pantaloons, and
coarse brown aprons, and great sun-bonnets, buying copper-toed shoes,
so that the children might go where they pleased, and do any thing
they liked, except tumble into the river, or fall down a well to live
with the bull-frogs.

A few days before they left, the grand Japanese procession took place
in New York; and Minnie said, "Oh, mamma, please take us to see the
_Jackanapes_," which made the rest laugh. So down Broadway they all
went, looking like a boarding-school that took boys as well as girls,
with the little mother marching like a captain at their head, and
turned into a fine store, opposite the City Hall Park, that belonged
to their uncle, where they had such an excellent view, that their
faces were a perfect picture of wonder and delight while the
procession was passing.

"Dear me!" exclaimed George, "I am nearly crazy with joy; I wish the
Japanese would come every day. How funny! they all look like old women
in black nightgowns!"

"And their heads have little top-knots, like Poland hens," said Henry;
"and see that fellow sticking his foot on the edge of the
carriage--look! his great toe is put in a thumb!"

At this they all laughed, and Harry, laughing too, cried out: "I don't
mean that; I mean that they knit thumbs in their stockings, and stick
their great toes in;--dear! how it must tickle!"

It was a grand sight. Many of the stores were decorated with numerous
little Japanese flags, which consist of a large red ball in the centre
of a plain white surface, and many Japanese lanterns were hung around.
The soldiers looked and marched splendidly; and the fine music was
enchanting. Guns were firing in the Park, and smoking and flaming like
steamboat funnels: little boys were popping off squibs and crackers,
and everybody seemed perfectly happy.

"Dear me!" cried Arthur, "I wish I could hear the speeches they intend
to make. I suppose they will be stuck full of compliments, not a word
of which the Mayor will understand; but, of course, he will bow a
great many times to show that he agrees with it all: and then he, in
return, will make a speech to the ambassadors, all flaming over with
fine words and flummery, and the Japanese will bow all in a row like
four-and-twenty fiddlers--and oh! how nice it will all be!"

When the children got home, they told Charley about the grand
procession, all speaking at once; and one of them put on an old black
gown of his mother's, and half shut his eyes, and would have shaved
his head, if his mother had let him, to show Charley just how they
looked; because he, poor little fellow, had to stay behind--he could
not have endured the fatigue of that long day away from home. But his
kind little mother never forgot him; she was determined he should see
something; so about eight o'clock that evening, two horses, with a
nice comfortable barouche, were driven up to the door, and Charley was
tenderly lifted in, and two large pillows were placed behind and at
his side, and his mother and two of the oldest children were driven
slowly down Broadway to see the illumination.

[Illustration: THE JAPANESE RECEPTION.]

The street was crowded. Beautiful  lanterns were hung here and
there, and little Japanese flags fluttered in every direction. As they
came near the great Metropolitan Hotel, where the Japanese were
staying, the crowd increased, and a burst of delightful surprise broke
from Charley and the rest, as the beautiful blazing windows came in
view. In each of the several hundred windows were fine Japanese
lanterns of different colors and two little flags. Such a glittering
and a fluttering as they made! and over the door was the word
"Welcome," in blazing gas-burners, with the splendid flag of the
United States on one side, and a great Japanese banner on the other.
Everybody was shouting and hurrahing, and every up-turned face looked
happy, but none so merry and joyous as the children in the carriage;
their eyes fairly danced with delight, and their faces looked as if
they had been illuminated too. All they wanted was to have two little
Japanese flags fastened to their ears, and to be placed in the
windows, to have beaten the lanterns and gas-burners all to pieces.

After they had looked just as long as they liked, and shouted and
waved their hats, when they saw any of the Japanese at the windows
shaking out their queer-looking black pocket-handkerchiefs with round
white spots, the carriage turned round, and the children had a fine
drive home, perfectly delighted with the unusual grandeur of a ride in
a carriage at night; _that_ was almost the best of all, to be out
after bed-time. They thought they could never admire the bright stars
enough, which, with their sleepless eyes, watched the world below--fit
emblems of the difference between the things made by man, and the
enduring works of God. Before long those glittering lights below would
fade and die; while these heavenly luminaries would shine on forever.

The next evening the little mother thought she would call upon Captain
Porter, who had the Japanese in charge. He was a brave, noble-hearted
officer, and an old friend, and accordingly she went with some other
friends. Captain Porter received them very kindly, and amused them
very much with funny accounts of how the Japanese were stared at, and
sometimes annoyed by people who ought to know better. While she sat
there, there came a knock at the door, and a morocco case was handed
in: it was opened; and what do you think appeared? You will hardly
believe it: some sets _of false teeth_; one set of them _jet black_,
as a present! The little mother laughed, and wondered if the dentist
who sent them, thought the Japanese would want to have their own
teeth pulled right out, and these put right in. Then two gentlemen
came in, and wanted Captain Porter to persuade the Japanese to buy a
lot of guns from them, very cheap, indeed. Then, who do you think came
in? Why, "Little Tommy," the young Japanese that everybody was talking
about.

He looked so very smiling, that the two comical little triangular
slits in his head which served for eyes nearly disappeared, when
Captain Porter took him by the hand and introduced him to the little
mother.

"How do?" said he, and shook hands with her; then he took up Captain
Porter's sword and belt and buckled it round his waist, and said, "Ver
good sword, indeed;" then he tried on the Captain's naval uniform
cap, with the gold band round it, and ran and looked in the glass. It
would not go on very well, on account of Tommy's pig-tail, which was
fastened in a knot on the very top of his half-shaven pate, and which
stuck up rather inconveniently: then the Captain said, "Tommy, this
lady wants to see the portrait of your little Washington sweetheart;
come, show it to her."

"No show," said Tommy; which answer made the little mother esteem him
very much, because it was plain that he had too much self-respect, and
_too much respect_ for the young lady, if she _was_ a little girl only
twelve years old, to show her likeness to every stranger. He was not
going to be made fun of. Not he!

Presently the little mother got up to go; and, shaking hands with
Tommy, said, "Good-bye Tommy; I mean to send you a 'Nightcap' book. It
is written by 'Aunt Fanny.' Say, Aunt Fanny."

"Arnta Farnny. Yes! I like it," answered Tommy, holding the little
mother's hand; "but you," he continued, "I like you; are you Spaniss?"

"No," said she.

"You Frence?"

"No," said she, smiling.

"You Angliss?"

"No," said she.

"Why, Tommy, she is an American," said Captain Porter.

"Ah," cried Tommy; "she so leetle--she ver good--good-bye:" then he
wrote his name on a card for her, and she went home very much pleased.
But just before she went, Captain Porter told her that the great
phrenologist, Mr. Fowler, who knows all about you by merely looking at
the outside of your head, had been to see Tommy, and had told him that
he had the most tremendous bumps for reading, writing, and arithmetic,
that ever were seen; a great bump of trying on American clothes;
making love to little girls; eating sugar-candy, and having a good
time generally; and scarcely any bump at all for getting up early in
the morning, working hard, or taking medicine; in fact, that his
cranium was as full as the Metropolitan Hotel, of all sorts of good
things; which flattering description delighted Tommy so much, that he
wrote Mr. Fowler of his own accord, and without any assistance from
Captain Porter or any other dictionary, the following note of thanks:

                       METROPOLITAN HOTEL, NEW YORK,
                                   June 22, 1860.

"DEAR SIR:--I am much oblige to you the history and head some paper
and the letter with it whole my head examination. I shall take it to
Japan, and esteemed much doctor Kawasake is also much please have been
receive it.

    "I am very true your friend,
        "TATEISH ONAJEIRO (TOMMY)."

And now every thing was made in the way of "anti-tear-clothes," as
the children called them, and the express wagon was sent for on the
afternoon of the 19th of June to carry the baggage down to the
steamboat.

The express man stared with amazement at the quantity of children
whisking and frisking, and rushing and brushing about in the hall;
and, still more, at the trunks, boxes, and bundles, that were brought
clattering and tumbling down the stairs for him to take away.

Just before he was leaving with the last bundle, little Johnny rushed
breathless down the stairs with what looked like a horse's tail, only
shorter and smaller, in one hand, and an old tin-box that had once
contained preserved tomatoes in the other, and screamed out,
"Here!--say! man, man! take this! here, take it! It's mamma's hair!
she's forgotten to sew it on her head! here, pack it up in this
tin-box, and tie it with a rope, and put it on board the
steamboat--will you?"

Dear me! how the poor express man did bite his lips and swell his
cheeks, and turn very red, and try not to laugh: but it _would_ come
out, and he laughed himself nearly into fits, while the little mother
felt for a moment as if she could have shaken _Johnny_ into fits, but
only for a moment; for, after all, what was the use of being angry: he
_meant_ to be so useful and thoughtful, and if her hair was so thin,
she had to buy some to put with it--why, it was nothing to be ashamed
of; so she laughed, too, at last, and all the children joined in with
such good-will, that the canary bird over the way hearing such a
pleasant noise, set up his pipes and twittered in company, and sang so
shrill and loud, that all his feathers stood out on end; and, on the
whole, it was thought a very good joke.

And now a great hotel carriage, which is about three times as large as
any other, drove up, and the children were packed in it, till it was
as full as an egg; and they gave three cheers, as it started, to the
astonishment of all the neighbors, and sang "John Brown had a little
Indian" all the way down to the boat.

There had been so many berths engaged for one name, that the Captain
thought there must be a colony going out west to set up a town for
themselves. But when he saw the family marching down the gang-plank
two-and-two, like the animals that went into the ark, from the biggest
to the smallest, he lifted up his hands and exclaimed, "Dew tell! what
an orful lot of children! I shud think that old lady'd want the
patience of Job, any how!"

Ah! the Yankee-talking Captain didn't know what you and I know--that
these children all "_loved one another_" and _that_ made every thing
easy to the little mother.

There was no wrangling in that family. They left all that to "dogs and
cats," and "bears and lions," as I am sure all good children do. There
was plenty of noise, to be sure; but this the great power of love
changed into sweet melody, so that, instead of irritating you, as a
rude blustering wind would do, it charmed and delighted, because it
was first passed over the AEolian harp-strings of _love_.

And now, before I forget it, let's have a little laugh you and I, over
that ridiculous picture of our "Nightcap children" in "Baby
Nightcaps." I intended to have had a picture of the little mother
surrounded by lots of pretty children playing about her; but, instead
of that, I was presented with a family that made my sides ache with
laughter. Such noses and such hats! I want to tip that tall-spook-of-
a-boy's hat off his head every time I look at it; And _such_ a baby!
Apple-dumpling face and squint eyes! Never mind! The funny printer
wanted to make us laugh, and I am sure he did--_one_ of us, any way;
but don't _you_ believe, for a moment, that _our_ Nightcap children
looked the least like his. Not a bit of it!

When the family were all comfortably settled, the splendid palace-like
steamboat--the Alida--started from the pier, and was soon gliding so
swiftly over the water, that the magnificent Palisades rose in the
blue evening air, while the golden glory of sunset was still lingering
upon them. Charley sat by his mother, with his curly head pressed
close against her breast; his pure and simple thoughts mirrored in his
sweet face. He was silently thanking God for the beautiful changing
picture before his eyes. All the children were enjoying the trip; for
their mother had taught them to feel and appreciate the beauty,
goodness, and grandeur of all God's works; and, save an exclamation of
delight now and then, they sat quite still.

But the silence did not last long. Of course not. If children are
quite still for more than five minutes at a time, you may be sure they
are either sick or in mischief; so presently George exclaimed,--

"Just see that sea-gull dipping his wings in the river!"

"That's the way he does his washing," said Annie.

"Oh! look at that row-boat," cried Harry; "four gentlemen and three
ladies rowing with parasols."

How the children laughed, and pretended to see the parasols rowing,
till Harry explained that he meant that the ladies had the parasols,
and the gentlemen were rowing. His mother said she would have to give
him a dish of boiled grammar for his breakfast, if he did not mind his
antecedents better.

"Grammar!" cried George; "dreadful! Aren't you all glad school-days
are over for the summer?"

At this blissful recollection all the children clapped their hands at
such a rate, that a fat old lady jumped up in a hurry and gave a queer
little squeak, because she thought the boiler was bursting; and
although they were now in the very middle of the broad Tappaan Sea,
she waddled off to order the captain to set her immediately on shore;
and a select company of blue jays, who had just started from the
Palisades to take tea with some brown sparrows on the other side,
turned somersets and flew back again, almost tripping each other up in
their hurry.

"Yes, indeed," answered Annie, "glad enough. Just think; no more hard
sums either. I do believe arithmetic is meant on purpose to torment
us, and that's the reason Willie made that mistake with such a grave
face, when the lady asked him how far he had gotten in his sums."

"So it is," cried Clara; "Willie said he had got to _dis_traction; I,
for one, wish that all the people that make the arithmetic books had
to eat them with pepper-sauce the moment they were printed--and that
would be the end of them."

"But compositions! Just think of compositions!" cried Harry; "they are
the most hateful things. Just because I wrote in my last one, that 'a
mule is a beast of burden which draws a rail-car shaped like a zebra,
and is sometimes used for carts with two long ears and a miserable
tail,' they all burst out laughing at me, and I very nearly cried--I
_did_ cry."

"Well, never mind, Harry," cried George; "it is all over now, and we
are going to that delightful West Point: I wonder if those soldiers we
saw parading with the Japanese last Saturday came from West Point?
they were such splendid fellows."

"Yes, indeed," cried Harry; "I dare say they did; they looked as if
they were afraid of nothing, but would be really glad to have an arm
or a leg shot off in every battle, and are so brave, that they would
keep on fighting the enemies of America, if they had only an ear and
one great-toe left."

Charley lifted his head and laughed at this, for he could hear all the
children were saying; and he whispered to his mother, "Isn't Harry a
funny fellow? The idea of one ear, and a great-toe firing a gun!" and
he laughed again a sweet, low laugh; and Clara, who was sitting
nearest, took his small thin white hand and kissed it, and patted it,
and murmured, "Oh, Charley, I'm so glad you are happy; I'm so glad
that cruel pain has gone away."

All this time they had been passing many beautiful villages and
elegant country mansions, half buried in luxuriant foliage. They were
now leaving the Tappaan Sea; and soon after the little mother showed
the children Sunnyside, the lovely home of the great Washington
Irving.

"He does not live there any more," said she; "his home is now 'Eternal
in the Heavens;' but his fame, and goodness, and renown will live in
every land for many, many years; and I hope the beautiful Sunnyside
will never fall into neglect or decay as long as his memory lasts."

The children looked with mournful interest at the beautiful place;
but when their mother pointed out the spot where Major Andre was
captured, there was quite a difference of opinion; the boys were glad
that he, the spy, was taken and hung by the great Washington, while
the more tender-hearted girls wished he could have escaped: and
Minnie said, "General _Wassingter_ ought to have forgiven him, because
he would not like to be hung himself--would he?" which, _I_ think, was
_the golden-rule way_ of putting the case.

And now the banks seemed to close in, and great dark mountains rose on
either side.

"There's Anthony's nose," said the little mother.

"Where? where?" cried the children, and looked with eager interest,
as the profile of a great Roman nose was pointed out on the edge of a
mountain. They were also delighted with Sugar-loaf Mountain, and
wished it had really been made of sugar, for they thought they would
like to eat a hole through it. As they were eagerly gazing at the
splendid view which had now darkened and deepened with twilight
shadows, a saucy puff of wind came round a jutting point, and in an
instant blew off Minnie's round hat.

"Oh! my hat! my hat!" she screamed; "get it! get it! quick! before it
goes across the Atlantic Ocean, and runs up the big mountains. Oh! get
it! get it!"

How everybody around did laugh, as George jumped after the hat, which
Minnie thought would walk on the Atlantic Ocean; and how Minnie
jumped and laughed when he caught it just as it was flying off on its
travels. I have no words to tell, but everybody after that listened to
the comical talk of the Nightcap children, who caused so much
merriment, that they arrived at West Point before they knew it; but
had to burst out with laughter again as Minnie, gravely looking up,
said, "Is this West Point? Well, I don't think it looks so very,
_very_ Pointy."

The first stars were peeping out, and the little birds had sung their
evening hymns and were hushed into stillness, as the children got into
the stage, the strong horses of which toiled up the short but steep
ascent, and they soon arrived at their summer home. "Oh, what a
beautiful cottage!" exclaimed Harry, and George, and Clara; "it seems
covered with roses; it must be the Castle of Perfect Happiness."

They all hurried in, in the most delightful bustle; and the children
had a grand time assisting the little mother to unpack every thing.
You would have imagined, to look in at the windows, that the house was
full of fishes out of water; they kept up such a continual bouncing
and fluttering about, but they were not fishes, nor pollywogs, nor
tadpoles, nor any thing like them; they were a company of capering
children, taking all sorts of little boxes and bundles out of trunks,
and putting them in the wrong places, and then running to get some
more, because they liked the fun of _helping_.

The good-natured little mother did not think them at all in the way:
she only laughed softly to herself, and would not for forty new
bandboxes have given them any _ear_-boxes for what they were doing.
No, indeed! she just let them trot about as much as they liked with
the pillows, boxes, bags, and bundles, of which there seemed to be
about a hundred and fifty; and when they were tired of _helping_, she
quietly arranged the things in their proper places.

Oh! how soundly the children slept that night with the "fragrant
stillness" all around them, far away from the roar and whirl of the
great city. The moonlight, sweet and mournful, flooded the earth, and
a white ray stole into the room where Charley lay and rested lovingly
above his head.

The next day Charley was very ill indeed. Even the short journey from
the city had overtasked his strength. He lay in a darkened chamber,
for his mother had to shut out the sweet sunshine, his head and side
were so racked with pain.

The children crept lovingly up to the door of the room they were not
permitted to enter many times during the day; to hope in a whisper
that he felt better, and went about the pretty cottage on tip-toe--all
their merriment gone. You would hardly believe they were the same
children that yesterday had kept half the people in the steamboat
laughing; so changed and still were they become, through their love
for their sick brother.

The little mother sent for the doctor. He belonged to the army, and,
of course dressed like the officers in military uniform.

When he entered, the children gazed with wonder and delight upon his
bright buttons, each of which had an astonishing spread-eagle
engraved upon it, and thought they could never admire enough the
beautiful gold lace upon his coat-sleeves. Really, he was quite a
shining doctor.

He became interested with Charley at once: the sweet, patient smile of
the suffering boy won his heart.

"My dear madam," said he to the little mother, "this is nothing but
temporary exhaustion; with some strengthening medicine which I shall
leave, and a good night's rest, our dear little friend will be as well
as he was before he came up; and I am in great hopes that this bracing
mountain air will soon make him much better than he was before he
came."

The children now approached the door and begged leave to enter, for
they wanted to hear about Charley, and have a "_good look_" at the
"soldier doctor."

"Well, my little friends," said he, in a hearty, cheery voice, "so
you've come up, I suppose, to help the fairies amuse Charley this
summer."

"FAIRIES!" exclaimed the children; "DELIGHTFUL! Are there _fairies_
here?"

"Lots of them," answered the doctor, laughing--"_that is_, if I may
believe my man, Patrick O'Neal. He declares he has seen the fairy
rings in the beautiful hollow at the foot of Crow Nest mountain many
and many a time."

"Oh dear! how perfect!" cried the children; "only fancy the dear
little fairies dancing on the parade-ground in the moonlight."

"Not exactly," said the doctor, laughing again; "fairies don't come so
near the haunts of mortals; besides, the cadets want the parade-ground
for their own dances and rings--not fairy rings--for those are made
with sparkling dew-drops, while the cadets have to content themselves
with tallow candles stuck into scooped-out turnips and placed in a
circle, and the lights throwing the shadows up, make the long legs of
the cadets look like ever so many great goblin black spiders, hopping
harem-scarem over each other; but the cadets call them 'Stag-dances.'"

"_Stag dances_," cried the children, "who ever heard of such a thing?
Why! do they nail antlers on their foreheads and go on all-fours? Dear
doctor! how _do_ they go?"

"Some on their heels, and some on their toes; but _I_ never saw one
dance on all-fours; and, as to the antlers, _without_ them they
prance: 'tis because they're all _boys_, that it's called a 'stag
dance.'"

"Why, only listen," whispered George to Annie, "he is talking
poetry--how queer!"

"Isn't he a nice bright doctor?" said Minnie; "he shines so shiny, and
he's so very _buttony_; I think his buttons are splendid."

The doctor heard this speech and burst out laughing, and then seeing
that Minnie looked abashed, he took out his penknife, and in a moment
had snipt off one of the spread-eagle buttons, and said,--"Here,
little lady-bird--here is a bright button, which you can fasten up
your cloak with to-night when you go to the fairies' midsummer ball;
for, I suppose, you will all have an invitation, and when I come
to-morrow, I expect to hear all about it. Good-bye, Charley; old
fellows like you and I don't care to go to balls, but we won't object
to hearing about the fairy festival, because that you know will be
something particularly superfine;" and he went away smiling, leaving
the delighted children chattering like a perfect army of magpies about
the fairies, and pretending to think that the good-natured doctor was
really in earnest.




THE FAIRIES' LIFE.


It was Midsummer eve; the moon in regal splendor proudly sailed above;
the fair, lovely June flowers were sleeping, fanned by the wings of
the tiny zephyrs floating past. A spell of enchantment was upon every
thing, for a deep stillness reigned around; the little brown cricket
had ceased to chirp; the katydid no longer quarrelled in shrill tones
with her neighbor; the wail of the sad whippoorwill was hushed; the
rugged sides of old Crow Nest were rounded and softened in the
silvery moonbeams, adown which the little brooklet sprang this night
with a more lightsome leap and a sweeter song.

Charley lay sleeping in his room, his cheek resting on his hand, and
his golden curls lightly stirred by the soft west wind, were floating
upon the pillow: a faint flush rested upon his sweet face, giving it a
lovely, but, alas! deceptive hue of health; his lips were slightly
apart, and now they were moving as if he was softly and slowly
answering some question.

The window was wide open, and the room was bright with moonbeams; but
now a softer, tenderer light, shone through the apartments; the air
was filled with delicious fragrance, and low sweet music was heard:
afar off, a halo in the moonlight was seen; it came near and nearer;
now it was close to the window, and one could plainly perceive that it
was a shining band of fairies, floating on the moonbeams with their
beautiful Queen at their head.

They stopped at the window, for the Queen, with a wave of her sceptre,
gave them to understand that she would enter alone.

She was radiant to-night; a magnificent necklace of many-
stones cut from a rainbow, sparkled like a wreath of prismatic fire
around her white and slender throat; her wings were fringed with small
diamond dew-drops; her robe was fashioned of the royal purple velvet
of the <DW29>; and her crown and sceptre flashed with precious gems.

  "But, oh! her beauty was far beyond
  Her sparkling jewels:"

for the sweet loving expression that beamed from her eyes, and the
smile that played about the corners of her beautiful mouth, mirrored
the pure, unselfish, spotless nature of the Queen.

Softly she floated towards the couch, and gently touched the boy with
her sceptre.

Charley opened his blue eyes. In a sweet amaze he slowly raised
himself and leaned upon his arm, gazing in bewildered delight upon the
radiant stranger. The little mother still slept on; but in the room
was a young kitten--a daughter of Crocus, of whom you read in "New
Nightcaps," and whom Charley so loved, that he brought her away with
him. She was lying at the foot of his bed; in a moment she bristled up
her coat and tail, and darted out her sharp claws in terror at the
sight; but at a touch of the Queen's sceptre she drew them into their
velvety sheath again, and laid quietly down.

"Dear Charley," said the Queen in a low, sweet voice, "we do so love
your innocent and guileless nature, that while the pulses beat, and
the blood flows in your frail and fading form, we will do our utmost
to drive the demon of pain far away; tender and beautiful influences
shall surround you; you shall be a most favored mortal, for you shall
behold the happiest scenes in fairy life; you shall dream the
sweetest dreams of fairy-land; this night is our great midsummer
festival; even now our subjects are hastening to the beautiful hollow,
where the fairy revels are kept. Hark to the fairy call! they are
inviting the fays from the beautiful green island that is sleeping in
the moonlight opposite to us."

Charley with all his senses quickened, his lips slightly apart, his
eyes dilated, one hand raised in an attitude of intense listening,
caught the delicious harmony of fairy voices singing these words:

  "Hasten fairies--haste away;
  Hasten through the golden spray;
  Hasten to the frolic play.

  "Fly o'er water--fly o'er vale;
  Ply the oar, and spread the sail;
  Hie ye to the moon-lit dale.

  "Silver sweet the music swells
  Of the snow-white lily-bells,
  And the sounding pink sea-shells.

  "Hither--hither, haste away
  To the fairies' frolic play;
  'Tis the festive fairy-day."

Brighter grew the eyes of the sick boy, and his cheek flushed with
excitement as he listened.

"Oh, how beautiful!" he murmured; "what dainty little rippling notes!"

"Listen again," said the Queen, with a gratified smile, for she liked
to hear her people praised; "listen! the island fairies are
answering."

Was it magic that brought those tiny voices so far over the water?
Surely it was, for there rose on the air a clear tinkling sound like
the ringing of little glass bells; and Charley heard these words:

  "Beaming moon--shimmering fountain--
      Light, and deck the fairy dell;
  We are coming to the mountain,
      From the isle we love so well:
  To the fairy ball we hie;
  Thought-swift through the purple sky
  We are hastening at the call;
  'Tis the great midsummer ball.

  "Open lily--blossom rose,
      Shed around thy perfume light;
  Heliotrope--thy sweets disclose
      To the fragrant dews of night.
  Dogwood grim we fairies banish;
  Purple nightshade! fly! evanish!
  We are hastening at the call;
  'Tis the great midsummer ball.

  "Chime hare-bells! clearly, sweetly,
      Joy our hearts with blithe accord,
  As we fairies neatly, featly,
      Trip it o'er the dainty sward.
  Velvet sod thy carpet spread,
  With small buds enamelled,
  We are hastening at the call;
  'Tis the great midsummer ball.

"Oh!" exclaimed the entranced boy, "how I should like to see the
beautiful fairies dancing in the moonlight. May I, sweet lady?"

With a loving smile the Queen bent over and lightly tapped him thrice
upon each shoulder-blade with her jewelled sceptre. Immediately a pair
of gauzy wings started from his back. With an involuntary motion he
gently waved them back and forth, and felt himself rising--_rising_
--RISING--till he had floated out of the window into the moonbeams.
The poor little kitten set up a piteous cry, but a fairy spell was
upon the mother, for she slept quietly on.

Oh! with what delight was the enchanted boy now welcomed by the
waiting train outside! They pressed lovingly around him; they played
with his golden curls; they fanned him with their delicate wings; they
looked down into the lambent depths of his clear blue eyes, and saw
his pure spirit within so free from guile; they touched with their
tender fingers his poor little thin white neck and breast, and felt
his heart beating fast and faster with delight.

Up, up they mounted, and a joyous thrill, like a sweet and sudden
wind, shook the leaves of the trees as they passed swiftly by them.

And now they approached the beautiful hollow; they heard the stirring
sound of the fairy kettle-drums (which you know are chestnut shells,
divided in half, with mouse-skin drawn tightly over). Quickly they
floated over the last tree-tops; the frisky young fairies folding
their wings and sliding down the moonbeams for fun, just as you slide
down the bannisters.

They are there, directly over the beautiful hollow, floating slowly
downward with a graceful waving motion; and Charley looked on a most
enchanting sight. Crowds of fairies were assembled within an immense
circle of sparkling dew-drops, tricked out in all their holiday
attire. More were coming in on every side; some in their nut-shells
and four--others flying through the soft air. In the centre of the
hollow the mossy throne was this night surmounted by a magnificent
canopy of scarlet geraniums, looped up at the sides by splendid
clasps, formed of the backs of the scarlet lady-bug, dotted with spots
of jet. The canopy was heavily fringed with small scarlet fuchsias, or
lady's ear-drops. At the foot of the throne there appeared to be a
low seat of heaped-up rose-leaves, and in a circle round it a double
row of glow-worms shed a soft clear light. Small mushroom tables,
filled with plates of dew-drop ices, were already laid out; and the
fairies only waited for the presence of their beloved Queen to open
the ball.

Suddenly the music quickened; the fire-flies sparkled and danced, and
all rose respectfully as the Queen touched the green velvety floor.
Bowing and smiling, she gracefully seated herself upon the throne, and
tenderly placed the spell-bound Charley upon the rose-leaf couch at
her feet. The rich color of the beautiful canopy threw a rosy blush
over the boy's sweet face; and the glancing fairies thought they had
never seen a lovelier mortal. Although the soft rose-leaves pressed
caressingly around him and hid his poor deformed limbs, it would have
made no difference if they had been plainly seen, for the fairies only
looked in his _face_, where so much purity and goodness shone; and,
seeing this, they loved him, and were glad he had come.

"Where is Slyboots?" said the Queen.

"At your feet, most gracious Majesty," answered the sprite, dropping
down all at once from somewhere.

"And what is the last piece of mischief, you comical imp?"

"Your Majesty! Mischief! I disapprove of it! but I have just been
tying Peas-cod and Bean-pod together by their long green coat-tails,
because they are such grumbling, discontented chaps."

"How do you know?" asked the Queen.

"Please your Majesty," answered Slyboots, "I heard Peas-cod say that
he hated the sight of every thing and everybody; that all other
fairies could wear different colors, while he had to be green all his
days; then he opened his mouth so wide, and gave such a fearful yawn,
I thought all his round bones would roll out; _I_ think, your Majesty,
he is not only green--he is '_jolly_' green."

"Don't talk slang to me," said the Queen, though she laughed a little;
"but go on and tell me about Bean-pod."

"Oh! Bean-pod is miserable because of his shape; he says he is bigger
round his waist than anywhere else, and that is _so_ ungenteel; all
your Majesty's maids of honor laugh and make faces at him."

"Ah! I cannot have that," said the Queen; "all must be happy here,
especially on midsummer night. Go, Slyboots, and command them to come
into my presence."

Off started the sprite, and presently returned with the naughty
fairies looking very much ashamed of themselves, with their
coat-tails all curled round from having been tied in a hard knot.
Lilliebelle and Dewdrop laughed behind their butterfly wing-fans,
while Ripple and Firefly curled their mustaches, and looked on with
dandified airs.

The Queen began with a severe aspect: "I regret to learn, Peas-cod and
Bean-pod, that you are indulging in discontent; it is very wicked in
any one to murmur or repine at his lot in this world. Learn from this
mortal," she continued, placing her hand tenderly on Charley's head;
"almost since his birth he has led a life of suffering, yet no
repining falls from his patient lips; he is willing to live, and he
will be resigned to die. I think my story-teller, Charm-ear, has
written down something that happened to some neighbors of ours in the
little brook near by, which will serve as a warning to you. Would you
like to hear this story, Charley?"

"Oh, beautiful lady!" cried Charley; for, being an American boy, he
did not know he must say 'your Majesty.' "Oh, beautiful lady! a story
would be so--so _fairy_ nice!"

The Queen smiled, and, waving her hand to Charm-ear, the court
story-teller, he began as follows:

    THE THREE LITTLE FISH.

    "Not very long ago, in our beautiful brook, there lived three
    little silver trouts, who were very great friends. For some time
    they were happier than the day was long, playing together, eating
    together, and sleeping cosily together in the same little cave
    scooped out of a stone under the water, and wanted for nothing
    that good little fishes ought to have.

    "But after this I am sorry to have to tell that two of the little
    trout became very sad and discontented: one wished for this, the
    other for that, and neither cared a shrimp for any thing he had,
    because they were always foolishly sighing for something else.

    "At last Neptune, the King of the Sea, heard of these naughty
    little fish, and he resolved to punish them, by granting them all
    their desires.

    "Accordingly he called them before him, and told them they should
    have whatever they wanted.

    "Now, the oldest was a very proud little fish, and wanted to be
    able to snub up all the other fishes, by being set above them--so
    he said,

    "'Please your gracious goodness Majesty, I do not like the place
    where you have put me. Here I am poked into a mean, narrow river,
    where I can neither get down into the ground, or up into the air,
    and yet I can see well enough what fine times others have; there
    are the little birds that fly about over my head, and sing all
    day, because they have wings. Give me wings, gracious goodness
    Majesty--only give me wings, and then I shall have something for
    which to be thankful; in fact, it will make me perfectly happy.'

    "No sooner asked for than granted. In a moment the little fish
    felt the wings fluttering, and in another moment he had spread
    them wide, and rose joyfully out of the water.

    "Ah! what a delicious sensation. He resolved to travel; then a
    thought struck him.

    "'One favor more, your gracious Majesty.'

    "'Well, speak,' answered Neptune.

    "'Give me a wife, so that I may not fly alone in the world.'

    "'Granted,' said the Sea King; and immediately a beautiful little
    silver trout swam the surface, and then flew to his side.

    "With joy the silver fish greeted his mate, and forthwith they
    fluttered into a tree on the banks of the Hudson River, and
    commenced building a nest.

    "In the due course of time a brood of little flying fish were
    peeping up in the nest, and the papa and mamma had their hands
    full (so to speak) in finding food for their young; they were very
    happy, and thought this was the perfection of living, and heartily
    despised their old companions in the beautiful brook.

    "But, alas! in this world it is very often the case that just as
    we have attained our wishes, and are perfectly happy--bang! it is
    all over. This was literally the case with our poor little trout,
    for a party of sportsmen crossing the river in a row-boat seeing
    such a queer bird, one of them deliberately took aim and shot the
    mother trout, just as she was returning with food for her
    children; and the poor papa, who had been keeping watch on the
    nest, in the extremity of his terror, opened his mouth, and popped
    out his eyes, and took to flight, and left his family to be
    captured by the wicked sportsmen.

[Illustration: DEATH OF THE SILVER TROUT.]

    "But our little flying fish happened to alight among desert-like
    sands and rocks--far, far away from the least thing to eat or
    drink. Faint, weary, and unable to rise again, he lay fluttering,
    panting, and beating himself against the flinty stones. Oh! how he
    longed for one drop of crystal water out of his own little
    brook--only one drop.

    "Gasping, wounded, and sore, he lay there, wretched and all alone,
    till at length, with a sob and a sigh, he breathed his last. He
    was dead.

    "The second little silver trout was not so high-minded as the
    first; still he was dreadfully conceited, and moreover, he was a
    narrow-hearted, selfish little fish; for, provided _he_ was safe
    and happy, he did not care the flap of a fin, what became of all
    the rest of the fishes in the whole universe, or anywhere else.

    "'So,' said he to Neptune, 'may it please your worshipful honor; I
    do not wish for wings to fly, for I do not care to poke my nose
    into strange places; I might get lost or hurt, you know; I was
    contented enough until the other day, when I saw a great rope come
    down into the water, and fasten itself in some mysterious way
    about the gills of a sweet little cousin of mine, and she was
    hauled and dragged out of the water before my eyes, wriggling and
    struggling with fright and pain. It scared me terribly, your
    worshipful honor; for I thought this dreadful rope might some time
    fasten upon me. Now, all I desire, is to know the meaning of this
    rope, and of every single one of the dangers to which you have
    subjected us poor little fishes.'

    "No sooner said than done. Neptune opened the eyes of the little
    trout in such a marvellous manner, that he understood in a moment
    all about snares, nets, hooks, and the lines, which he called a
    rope, artificial flies, and every other danger to which little
    fishes are exposed.

    "At first he was perfectly delighted with his newly-acquired
    knowledge, and he took precious good care from this time forth,
    not to go into deep water, for fear a great greedy pike or some
    other great fish might be there and swallow him up at a mouthful.
    He kept away from the shallow places in hot weather, lest the sun
    should dry them up. When he saw a shadow on the water, he said to
    himself, 'Halloo! here are the good-for-nothing fishermen with
    their nets!' and immediately he sculled away and got under the
    banks, where he sat trembling in all his scales; and when he saw a
    tempting fly skimming on the water, or a nice fat worm, he did not
    dare to bite, although he was half-starved. 'No, no,' said the
    little trout, 'I am not such a fool as all that comes to; go and
    tempt those _flats_, the flounders; _I_ know better.'

    "In this way the poor little silver trout kept himself in a
    continual fright and flurry; and, of course, could neither eat,
    drink, nor sleep, for fear some mischief might be at hand.

    "He grew poorer and poorer, and sighed and frightened himself to
    skin and bone, until at last--ah me!--dear me!--alas! he died, for
    fear of dying.

    "Now when Neptune came to the youngest trout, and asked him what
    he wished for, he said: 'Oh, your great big Highness, you know I
    am but a very foolish and good-for-nothing little fish; I don't
    know what is good for me and what is bad for me; and I wonder how
    I came to be thought worth bringing into the world at all. But if
    I must wish for any thing, it is that you will please to do
    whatever you think best; I shall be happy to live or die, just as
    you would have me.'

    "When the precious little silver trout had said all this so
    sweetly and modestly, Neptune immediately felt an immense liking
    for him, and determined to take great care of this sweet little
    fish who had such entire trust in his goodness; so he watched
    tenderly over him, and was a father and a friend to him. He put a
    perfect fountain of contentment into his gills, and, consequently,
    happiness into his heart.

    "Thus, this dear little trout slept always in peace, and wakened
    in gladness; and whether he was full or hungry, or whatever
    happened to him, he was still pleased and thankful; and he is now
    the happiest of all the little fishes that swim in our beautiful
    brook."

A delighted murmur of applause rose on every side as Charm-ear
finished this excellent story; and Charley was, if possible, still
more enchanted to find such a capital moral in a story told by a
fairy. Peas-cod and Bean-pod looked very uncomfortable as the Queen
said, "Thank you, Charm-ear; you have related the story well; and I
hope," she continued, looking kindly at the discontented fays, "it
will have a profitable effect. It is no doubt a great blessing to
possess what one wishes; but it is a greater blessing still, not to
desire that which we can never possess."

Then the Queen, who ruled altogether by LOVE, said: "Go, dear
Peas-cod and Bean-pod--go join the dances; I give you Lilliebelle and
Dewdrop for partners, and let me hear no more of discontent."

The two green fairies brightened up amazingly when they heard their
Queen speaking so kindly; really, their green coats became quite
fashionable-looking--and not such a bad color either; and though
Lilliebelle and Dewdrop pouted a little at their humble partners,
they dared not disobey the Queen; but soon the inspiring music and
the pleasure of dancing, of which, like all fairies and most young
ladies, they were immoderately fond, caused them to forget their
annoyance, especially as Peas-cod and Bean-pod were accomplished
dancers, and hopped about in the most surprising manner.

And Charley looked on in an ecstasy of delight, and the flush deepened
and brightened in his cheek. It seemed as if a million of tiny flowers
of every color had been taken from their stems and had gone on a
pic-nic, and were now at the very height of their fun. Such laughing!
such dancing! such eager rushing for the ices and other goodies, just
as you do at your parties. In one corner a small party of extremely
fashionable belles were promenading, each holding a parasol over her
head made of a small green leaf, to preserve her complexion; for you
must know that moonbeams are very tanning. Among the honeysuckles, the
elderly fairies were playing backgammon, talking, and pretending to
admire each others' dresses, thinking their own handsomer all the
time; while the bachelor fairies were smoking poppy leaf cigars, and
ordering any quantity of buttercups of Maydew.

All at once a tremendous shout of laughter was heard, and Charley and
the Queen looking eagerly in the direction whence it came, saw, to
their unspeakable astonishment, the old prime minister turning a
somerset in the air. He got up, walked a few steps, and went
head-over-heels again; while the fairies, ready for any fun, thought
he had become crack-brained and was doing it on purpose, and screamed
with laughter.

But, bless your little heart! what a mistake they made! Rising from
his last leap in the air, with a scowl on his face, breathing forth
fire and fury like a hippogriff or a fiery dragon, he pushed his way
through the crowd and marched straight to the throne, where, kneeling
as well as he could for his bumps and bruises, he demanded of the
Queen in a shrill, gasping, wheezing voice, like the wind whistling
through a broken bellows:

"Your Majesty!! your Majesty!!! that wretch! that Slyboots! confine
him in a nut-shell for a thousand years! tie him fast to a hornet!
cut off his wings! oh! oh! oh! the impertinent little scamp!"

"Why, my lord, calm yourself," said the Queen; while Charley looked on
in bewildered astonishment at the enraged prime minister, and a great
crowd of fairies gathered around.

"Tell me what has happened."

"I need not remind your Majesty that our state affairs are very much
behindhand, and not feeling inclined to mix with coxcombs like Ripple,
(here the Queen frowned, and Ripple, who was just behind him, made a
grimace,) I went to one of the mushroom tables, and sat down to finish
my memorial regarding the loan for the hospital for sick bumble-bees,
when this torment of a Slyboots comes up, and looking over my
shoulder, exclaims, 'What! my lord; surely you are not going to
stupefy the Queen with the odious sick bumble-bee memorial _to-night_,
are you? Say?'"

"'Certainly I am,' I said; 'what would become of all the business in
the Queen's dominions if it were not for me? Go away, you ugly Ouphe!'
At this, Slyboots rushed off in such a haste, and with such a wicked
gleam in his eye, that I smelt mischief immediately. 'After finishing
my memorial on eleven bees-wings closely written, I was hastening with
it to your Majesty, when I fell, with great violence, over three
successive ropes that were stretched across the section of the hollow
where I had been writing, crumpling and soiling my memorial, and
breaking off a corner of my right wing. I know it is Slyboots that has
committed this outrage. Drive him out of your kingdom, your Majesty!
give him up to the water fairies! tell the snails to poke him well
with their horns!' and in a very torrent of passion and anger, the
prime minister was going on, when the Queen interrupted him
with--'Softly, softly, my lord; we will call Slyboots and hear what he
says.'"

And now there was a great call for the culprit; and presently he came
in the ring, riding on a comical-looking bull-frog, and making
tremendous leaps, apparently in great haste, as if he had been on a
long journey, and had just that moment arrived. With an inconceivably
roguish air, he alighted, and hastening up, bent his knee before the
Queen. The foolish young fairies came very near bursting out laughing
when they saw him put on a demure, innocent look of surprise, as he
caught sight of the scowling face of the prime minister; but at that
moment her Majesty said in an angry tone:

"What shocking mischief have you been doing?"

"_I_ have been doing nothing, your Majesty."

"And who helped you to do it, you saucy goblin?"

"Only a little brown spider," said Slyboots, "and he didn't mean to."

"But between you two, the prime minister has had three heavy falls;
and I am afraid not without intention on _your_ part."

"Please your Majesty, if my lord, the prime minister, loads himself
with such a heavy article as that sick humble-cum-tumble-bee
memorial, and then puts his eyes in his pockets, no wonder he can't
see straight before him, and falls down and cracks his crown. Why
don't he be jolly, like the rest of us? Your Majesty had better order
an unlimited quantity of dandelion feather-beds to be put around in
spots for my lord, the prime minister, to turn head over heels in."

"Hush! sauce-box," cried the Queen; while the prime minister gave him
a furious look. "Here, Trip (turning to a page), go bring me the
little brown spider; I must get at the bottom of this business."

The little brown spider came and made her obeisance, all in a fuzz of
fear, for she could not imagine why she was called into the presence
of the Queen. She shook so violently, that her Majesty said, kindly:

"Don't be afraid, Brownie; but tell me, with perfect truth, what did
Slyboots employ you about this evening?"

"Please your beautiful Majesty," began the spider, "Slyboots is my
friend, and I would not like to get him into trouble."

"That is neither here nor there," said the Queen; "I command you to
tell me what you did for him."

"Well," said the spider, almost crying, "Slyboots came to my house in
the grape-vine in the greatest hurry, and begged me to scrabble and
scratch with all my might and main to a certain part of the hollow,
and spin three ropes, knee high, just as quickly as possible across
it, as some of the court had taken a prodigious fancy to tight-rope
dancing, and meant to give an exhibition before the evening was over;
and he was to give me, for doing it, just the fattest little fly I
ever beheld, which he had fast by the legs; it made my mouth water
only to look at it; so, your Majesty may believe, I rushed down and
worked at the ropes for dear life, and finished them to Slyboots'
satisfaction, for he gave me the delicious fly, and I've just
finished eating it up; and that is all I know about it, please your
beautiful Majesty."

It was all as plain as moonlight; and after one moment passed in
vainly endeavoring to suppress their merriment, the whole court burst
into such a scream of laughter, that the very leaves rustled, as if
some musical wind had stirred them. Of course not a fairy had ever
heard that anybody had taken up the profession of tight-rope dancing,
and Slyboots was at once convicted of having told a dreadful fib, and
had the ropes erected for the express purpose of tripping up the prime
minister, to prevent his boring the Queen on the great gala night with
his sick bumble-bee memorial.

There the naughty sprite stood with a penitent look out of one eye,
and winking ridiculously with the other; and the fairies having
laughed till they were tired, now waited in breathless silence to hear
his sentence pronounced.

Charley was really sorry for Slyboots; he was distressed that the
fairy had told a falsehood; but, as to the mischief, it was so like
the capers his own brothers and sisters were always cutting, that he
felt very certain the comical little imp had not one grain of malice
in his heart, so he softly touched the Queen's knee, and as she kindly
bent down to him, whispered--"Oh, beautiful lady! he has a good heart,
and he is very sorry; please to forgive him."

"Slyboots," began the Queen, in a tone which she tried to make very
severe, "you have passed all reasonable bounds in this last prank; you
have outraged and insulted my faithful servant--and, worse than all,
you have told an untruth. If it had not been for this last, I might
have forgiven you after you had made fitting apologies to the prime
minister; even now I shall lighten your punishment, because this pure
and lovely mortal has interceded for you. Listen to your sentence. My
power tells me that the great wasp, Spiteful, has just entered the
chamber where little Minnie, Charley's sister, is lying peacefully
asleep, and within the hour he will thrust his poisonous cruel sting
into the tender arm of the little child. With your wings to dart here
and there, you might easily conquer him; but these must be fastened
together by your friend Brownie, and within the hour you must bring me
the dead body of the wasp. You have heard; Brownie, to your work!"

In the midst of a deep silence, the poor little trembling spider began
to spin thread after thread round and round the beautiful gauzy wings
of the disgraced and now sorrowful fay; one after the other the
beautiful tints of blue, and gold, and purple, first faded, then were
hidden under the misty cloud-color of network.

The court looked on in sorrow, for the elfin was beloved by many, but
not a fay dared murmur or question the justice of the sentence. At
last his wings, of a dead dull gray, were prisoned fast; and the
Queen, waving her sceptre, said--"Go, Slyboots; if you carry a right
spirit to your work, you will win the fight."

The fairy said not a word, but bowed him low, and turned sadly away.
The time was short, and he must hasten and don his stoutest armor, for
the foe was deadly. A friendly grasshopper offered to take him to the
foot of the window where he must enter. With a gleeful spring he
mounted, and away with great leaps they went through the ferns and
over the grass, scrambling painfully in and out of bramble bushes, and
pricking themselves with the sharp nettles that lay in their path. But
the grasshopper (that friend in need) carried him bravely through
them all, and came at last to a little house under a great mushroom,
where Slyboots kept bachelor's hall.

Here he alighted, and hastily fastened on his acorn helmet, with its
beautiful plume from the humming bird's breast; then he donned his
close-fitting vest, made of the skin of the prickly-pear--the sharp
points bristling terror to invaders. On his left arm he carried his
trusty shield, made of the back of the golden beetle, and his right
hand grasped his sharp blade, fashioned out of the blue sword-grass.

Swiftly he bestrode his grasshopper steed again, and in a few moments
they were beneath the open window of the room where lay the sleeping
child.

Alighting, and thanking his friendly courser, Slyboots clambered up by
the luxuriant rose-vine fastened against the cottage wall, and in a
moment had dropped noiselessly into the room.

It was flooded with sweet clear moonlight. Clusters of roses were
peeping in at the window, but none were half so lovely as the little
human rose-bud lying so quietly in her tiny white bed. She might have
come out of Elfin land--she was so fair and sweet; her merry blue eyes
closed, her little song-voice stilled, and a lovely flush on her soft
cheek from the kissing of the warm and balmy wind, which danced in
and out of its own sweet will.

Hovering over her--a malignant gleam in his eyes--was the wasp.
Already was his body curved to inflict the mean and cruel sting upon
the defenceless child, when, with a bound, Slyboots was upon him, cut
him sharply with his sword, and then scampered out of the window and
took refuge in a great rose, apologizing to the little fairy whose
home it was. With his back against the rose-leaves, and his shield on
guard, Slyboots waited for the fray.

[Illustration: SLYBOOTS FIGHTING THE WASP.]

Out came the wasp, breathing fire and fury; his usual snarling hum
changed into a fiendish roar of rage. Then did begin a most tremendous
battle!! The fairy's blows fell thick and fast upon the horny head
of his enemy, who vainly sought to sting him; but the trusty shield
was never off duty. The wasp kept up a horrid din, as with maddening
ferocity and desperation, he tried to find his foe, for he was now
blinded with the blows. Panting with pain, and roaring with rage, he
flew wildly round and round, returning each time with fourfold fury to
the charge, till at last a well-directed stroke of the elfin's sword
cleft his head asunder, and he fell prone to the earth, with one
prodigious kick of all his feet in the air together.

Down jumped Slyboots from the friendly rose, and making sure of the
death of his enemy by sundry bangs and whacks with the flat of his
sword, quickly made a stout rope of corn silk, and fastening it round
the head of the wasp, began his joyful journey back to the fairy
hollow.

The good grasshopper had been a deeply interested spectator of the
battle; his eyes hanging out like a lobster's with anxiety, and
chirping a perfectly continuous rattle of encouragement to Slyboots,
so that really he was as hoarse as a bull-frog when it was all over.
With cheerful alacrity he helped the breathless fairy tie up the dead
body of the wasp, and willingly allowed the other end of the corn silk
rope to be fastened to one of his long hind legs; and then Slyboots
mounting him once more, he tugged and scrambled along with his double
burthen with so much hearty _will_, that they arrived at the fairy
ground at least one minute and a quarter within the hour.

Meanwhile harmony and order had been restored in the beautiful hollow.
The old prime minister was fast asleep under a fern leaf, with his
precious bumble-bee memorial under his head, and Charley was watching
with delighted interest the many happy groups upon which the moonbeams
lovingly rested. Some were dancing the Fairy Lancers, some eating and
laughing at the little tables, some having a childish game of
cats-cradle with the tendrils of the grape-vine, and all were full of
mirth and gaiety, as noisy and happy as it was possible to be; in
fact, the fairies were marvellously like you, little reader; you are
both full of fun and noise, and have no idea of going through the
world slowly and carefully, as if you were stepping on one
feather-bed, and had your head tied up in another. Not at all! they
and you just jump and tumble about with prodigious talents for frolic,
wearing out your shoes, and tearing your clothes--that is, _you_, for
the fairies' shoes and clothes have a patent trick of always looking
fresh and new. Charley thought his dear brothers and sisters were very
like these little creatures in their fondness for fun, and he did wish
that they were here this Midsummer night to have "a real good time."

Presently the Queen said to him, "Charley, did you ever blow bubbles?"

"Yes, often, beautiful lady."


"And what have you seen in them?" asked the Queen.

"Oh! the most lovely colors! and sometimes a charming tiny picture of
the room where we were."

"Would you like to see some _fairy_ bubbles?"

"Ah, yes! I should like it of all things."

The Queen gently clapped her hands, and instantly a page was kneeling
at her feet.

"Go, Light-wing," said the Queen, "and tell Fancy to come here with
her basin of foam and magic pipe."

The fairy rose from his knee, bowed low, and sped away. In an instant
he returned in company with the daintiest, most ethereal little elf
in fairy-land. Her wings were of air--her golden ringlets danced in
the "tremulous, singing wind," giving out the perfume of the
blossoming lily; her tiny rose-bud of a mouth opened, disclosing the
whitest and smallest seed-pearl teeth, as with a smile beaming with
love and sweetness, she said:

"Beloved Queen, most gladly have I come at your bidding. Deign but to
command, and I will hasten to obey."

"Dear Fancy," said the Queen, placing her hand tenderly upon Charley's
shoulder, "here is a lovely mortal who has suffered from his infancy;
but all his pain has not been sufficient to sour his temper, or
conquer his gratitude and love for the blessings and mercies which
remain to him. As flowers spring from the dust, so have love, and
truth, and every noble quality, sprung from the dark and bitter
suffering of his life. For this I love him, and will strive to make
the few days left to him on earth less sad, less painful; and I will
do this by showing him all our fairy life. I have sent for you to ask
you to exhibit, for his amusement, some magic bubbles; I would like
him to look at them now."

For answer, the little elf bowed gracefully, dipped her pipe in the
foaming dew, and began to breathe softly through the stem.

Soon the thin bubble rose in the twinkling fire-fly light. At first it
was all of a gray-dark color; but out of this dark, like the sun
breaking through the mist, bright golden and ruby tints began to
appear.

It grew in size and splendor, till at last the fairy gently waving the
pipe, the bubble slowly and gracefully floated away, and up a little,
and then poised itself, and rested just before Charley.

It was like a moving picture in an oval frame. Within appeared a large
and handsome parlor; a number of beautiful little children were
grouped about the room, evidently waiting for some event to happen.
Presently a baby-boy entered--a perfect bud of beauty. His fine and
snowy-white garment was daintily embroidered and trimmed after a most
royal fashion, with ivy leaves. Upon his beautiful head, crowned with
light and lovely pale golden curls, was a wreath also of ivy.

With his luminous starry eyes uplifted, and the dimples peeping in and
out of his rose-pink cheeks, he went around and offered a welcoming
kiss to every one in the room. It was his birthday. Two sweet, happy
years, had been unfurled in his little life, and the children were now
gathered together in honor of the event.

Charley gazed with lips apart, intent and eager.

All at once he exclaimed,--

"Why! it is Howard! little Howard! Why, yes! and there is sweet little
Carrie, his sister, with the beautiful wreath of roses, and the roses
on her dress! Oh! what wonders I am seeing!"

As he spoke, a lady entered, Howard's loving and lovely mother, with
an immense paper bag, and proceeded to fasten it to the chandelier in
the centre of the ceiling; then some one else came in, and spread a
large white sheet upon the carpet immediately underneath.

Then one of the little ones was blindfolded, and a cane was put into
his hands. He was to try to strike the bag, but instead, he made a
tremendous whack at nothing half a yard one side of the bag, which
made the children laugh merrily.

Charley laughed, too; you could _hear_ him, but he could only _see_
that the children in the magic bubble were laughing.

"I know them almost all!" he cried, in a voice of delight; "there are
Eva, and Robbie, and Alice, and Hattie, and Minnie, and Eddie, and
sweet little Kitty and Mortie; and oh! how happy they all look! how
perfect! and what a nice time they must be having!"

After two or three had tried to strike the bag, little baby Howard had
the handkerchief tied _above_ his eyes, just for fun, because he was
too little to be _really_ blindfolded; and, armed with the cane, he
grasped it with both tiny hands, his eyes dancing with glee, and a
gladsome smile parting his sweet little mouth, showing the pearly
teeth within. He gave the bag a sounding thump, and instantly it
burst asunder, and a perfect cataract of candies and sugar-plums
poured down upon the carpet. Quick as a flash every child in the room
was clustered together upon the sheet helter-skelter, head-over-heels,
laughing, screaming, dashing after the candies; and then--the bubble
burst, and Charley saw no more.

"Oh! oh! how beautiful! how wonderful!" said the lame boy; "dear, dear
little fairy! I thank you; but I should so like to know what the
children did after that."

Again the pipe was dipped in the foam-dew, and the fairy blew out
another bubble, that floated away and rested as before.

This time a wide hall, with a table in the centre, appeared. Upon the
table the  waiters were quickly placing large dishes of cakes,
oranges, mottoes, and pyramids of cream. A door, within which shone a
bright light, opened into this hall, and a little dancing form
flitting past now and then, showed that the children were frolicking
inside.

When the table was so perfectly covered, that it very nearly broke
down under the weight of goodies, there was seen issuing from the
parlor-door, first, the beautiful little king of the feast, carried in
his father's arms, his eyes sparkling, and his whole face radiant with
smiles. After him came, two and two, all the lovely little band; they
marched entirely round the table, and you may be sure they all looked
one way--and that way was the table-way, of course, where such a grand
feast was spread out. _That_ was the party, as I once heard a little
girl say, and who added, "Oh! I'm so glad! the party has come--look
what a lot of it!"

And now what a tremendous time the boys had helping the little girls,
and filling their laps with every thing they could lay their hands on,
and then cramming their own pockets till they stuck out all over like
balloons.

Just as they were in the height of eating, and laughing, and
presenting each other with mottoes, on which were printed the most
beautiful poetry, declaring that they would love each other as long as
they lived, and nobody knows how much longer; and Charley was looking
on wild with delight--presto! the bubble suddenly burst, and the
picture was gone.

"Oh! can any thing be more perfect!" cried Charley. "I am so happy!
Dear little fairy! do let me kiss you for making me so happy."

With a loving smile the beautiful elfin fluttered her wings and flew
into his breast, where she lay nestling like a little white dove.
Charley tenderly lifted her up, kissed her soft tiny cheek, touched
her golden ringlets, and felt her breath, fragrant as the perfume of
violets, fanning his face. He was silent with happiness, painting over
in his mind Fancy's magic pictures. The beautiful Queen sat watching
him, and enjoying his delight, when a far-off sound startled them
both--a sound of acclamation. Nearer and nearer it came, till the air
rang with tiny shouts and joyful clapping of hands. The voices were
respectfully hushed as a crowd of fairies advanced into the Queen's
presence; and Charley saw that Slyboots was in their midst, weary and
breathless, his wings still hidden in the spider-net, but exultantly
dragging the dead wasp by the corn-silk cord. His wee face looked
pale; but his eyes shone with the old brightness, as the Queen's
glance fell kindly and approvingly upon him.

"Did you arrive in time to save Minnie from the cruel sting?" she
said.

"I did, please your gracious Majesty," answered Slyboots.

"And did you waken her?"

"No, my Queen; I struck the wasp, and drew him outside of the window,
where I took refuge in a rose, and from thence, with my good sword, I
gave him battle. Long and fiercely we fought in the moonlight. The
little yellow butterflies crept under the leaves affrighted; the
midges in the air trembled, and whispered to each other that an
earthquake was surely at hand; but at last my enemy bit the dust, and
I pounded him till he was as dead as the prime minister's abominable
bumble-bee's mem--"

"Silence!" interrupted the Queen; but she really had to laugh, for
Slyboots looked at her with such a comical twist of his eye, which
changed to a beam of happiness as her Majesty said to him:

"You have done your task aright, and gladly we forgive you; but
remember, Slyboots, never let your love of fun carry you so far again;
and put this piece of advice in your pocket--keep out of the way of
the prime minister the next time you have tight ropes erected for your
friends to dance on."

Slyboots' face grew as red as a scarlet poppy at this allusion, and
the laugh that followed; and the Queen, seeing his confusion, said:
"Quick, Ripple--quick, Firefly--release his wings."

In a moment the fairy knights had cut away the gray network, and
Slyboots joyfully shook his wings, now brighter than ever.

Just at that moment a bugle-call sounded from the sentry at the top of
Crow Nest, and a faint twittering of a little bird was heard in a tree
skirting the hollow. The dawn was coming, lifting the dew-mist from
the lap of the earth; a faint light was streaking the east, as the
Queen, gathering her shining band, with Charley in the midst, rose in
the air, and flitted away to the cottage window. Softly they laid him
down, and the Queen touched his eyes. The white lids drooped heavily,
then closed, as a grateful balmy sleep wrapped his senses like a
mantle.

Then the Queen softly detached the gauzy wings, and handed them to her
page, Lightwing, charging him to guard them carefully. The little
mother lay with her cheek in her hand, never stirring, and the kitten
looked on this time with a friendly purr; and just as the first day
glimpse had gilded the hill-tops, the fairy train had vanished into
the sweet hazy mist of the MIDSUMMER MORN.




THE CHILDREN'S LIFE.


Midsummer morning broke in gorgeous, glorious brightness. Light fleecy
clouds floated swiftly over the blue heaven; a crisp fresh wind curled
the waters of the Hudson; and the beautiful little island opposite
West Point lay on its bosom like an emerald; its green banks clasped
by the loving tide.

With the first drum-beat, the happy Nightcap children were up and
dressed; and having, with more gratitude than usual, thanked their
Heavenly Father for so many blessings, they went first to inquire how
their dear brother Charley had passed the night.

"Hush!" said the little mother, as they came to the door, "don't
chatter now; Charley is still sleeping; do not make any noise; see how
lovely he looks."

The children crept in on tiptoe, and gazed lovingly at the sleeping
boy. At that moment a warm glow flashed suddenly into his cheek, and
his lips parted in a glad smile.

"Oh! see, see!" whispered the children, "Charley is dreaming; perhaps
he is talking to the fairies the doctor told us about; when he awakes
we will ask him."

Then they went softly down stairs and out into the fresh delicious
air. The birds were chanting their morning hymns; the lawn was golden
green with the sun's rays, and spangled with dew. Bees were dreamily
humming over the wealth of honeysuckles and roses that covered the
cottage-wall, gathering their sweet and fragrant food at their
leisure.

The children felt the blessed influences of all these lovely works of
the great Creator in an increase (if such a thing were possible) of
their happiness and joy.

You would have thought they were made of corks, so lightly did they
skip here and there, running round the trees after each other, the
boys turning somersets on the grass, and the girls declaring that they
could get to the top of Crow Nest with only a hop, skip, and jump.

"Oh, delightful!" cried George, "to get up a mountain with three
steps! you'll have to borrow Jack's seven-leagued boots. I wonder who
lives on the top?"

"Why, the crows, to be sure," said Harry, "and they keep up _such_ a
talking; it is like a hail-storm all the time; you never heard any
thing like the way crows can scold. If one crow is caught stealing,
all the rest caw and croak at him, till he very nearly goes into fits,
and then they all fly at him till he hasn't a feather left; I read all
about it in my Natural History."

"Oh!" cried little Minnie, "how I like to hear stories about fishes!
tell another crow story."

While the children were good-naturedly laughing and explaining to
Minnie that a crow was a bird, their mother appeared at the
cottage-door and said, "Breakfast, children."

In they all rushed, quite ready for the nice corn-bread, boiled eggs,
and _real milk_--not _milkman's_ milk--but they looked round in some
surprise for Charley.

"He is still sleeping," said the little mother, "and smiling in his
sleep; this quiet rest will do him so much good, I hope. Oh, my
precious Charley!" she exclaimed, "if I could only keep you a little
longer;" and her eyes filled with tears.

The children looked sad and grave, and two or three went round and
kissed their mother, and patted her kind cheek, and said they were
sure Charley was better. After breakfast they stole softly up stairs
to look again at their darling brother.

Charley was sitting up in bed as they entered: a strange bewildered
expression was upon his face, and he had his hands behind him, trying
to feel his shoulders.

"Do come here, George," said he, "and see if there are wings upon my
back."

"WINGS!!!" shouted the children in amazement, "what _can_ Charley
mean?"

"Yes, _wings_," replied Charley; "the fairy Queen fastened them upon
my back last night, and I went with her and her beautiful maids of
honor to the Midsummer ball. Oh! how delightful it was, and how I
longed for you!"

"Goodness!" exclaimed the children, "did you really go? How perfect!
Did you ever? Why didn't they take us, too? Oh, Charley! do begin at
the very beginning, and tell us all about it. Won't you? Say! do, come!"

Clustering around the bed, their eyes fastened upon his face,
breathless with wonder and delight, and with no end of exclamations,
they listened to the enchanting account of Charley's adventures. The
little mother came in the room just at the end; upon which they all
rushed at her in a body, and told the amazing story over again, all
talking at the same time; and the little mother said quite as many
"Ahs" and "Ohs" and "did you evers" as they did. But she smiled
lovingly at her lame boy, and parting the golden curls on his white
forehead, and kissing him tenderly, whispered, "My darling knows that
he has been DREAMING."

Was it a dream?

Charley was so much better that day, that the good doctor, when he
came, was astonished; and when he heard that the fairies had done him
the honor to take him to their Midsummer festival, he was delighted,
as well as astonished, and laughingly declared that the elves had
robbed him of his patient. "Why, Charley," he continued, "if the fairy
Queen can put such a rosy color in your cheeks, and such a sparkle in
your eyes in one night, she beats me all to pieces at doctoring. I
shall have to give you up to her, and only come here every day to make
a social call, so that you and I, two old fellows, can have a talk
about the state of the country. But I may as well put my pills and
powders into one of the cannons, and fire them off at some of the fine
ladies who go about, sweeping the parade-ground with their furbelowed
dresses, and think they are dying of dyspepsia, when all they want is
some useful occupation. I have lots of them to make bread pills for,
and I may as well let the fairies have my dear little friend here."

Just at that instant the drums made a prodigious clatter, and the
children started up to see what it meant.

"It is the call for the cavalry drill," said the doctor; "you had
better run."

Off scampered the children to the edge of the parade-ground, their
eyes dancing with expectation and eagerness.

On their way they passed the encampment; they gazed at the snow-white
tents of the cadets with the utmost interest, and indeed would rather
have lived in these delightful canvas houses, than in a king's palace.

"Oh! Harry!" exclaimed Anna, "I wonder if we mightn't just peep into
one of them."

"Certainly," answered Harry, who was always ready for adventures, and
he lifted up the opening of the tent nearest.

"Oh! what a perfect place!" he cried; "come! look!" and he disappeared
within.

[Illustration: NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.]

The children all peeped in, their heads looking like a bunch of
grapes, all piled one on top of the other; while Harry, inside,
pretended he was a showman, and made them a speech.

"Walk in, ladies and gentlemen," he said, "and see the show--all for
sixpence; children half price. Here you have one small bed, or humble
cot, one camp stool, one very small looking-glass, on the back of
which," he continued, turning it suddenly over, "is a picture of the
great Napoleon Bonaparte, running away, with his drawn sword in one
hand, and a leg of mutton in the other; while just below is another of
an old cadet, poking a young one with his bayonet."

The children were laughing heartily over these specimens of the fine
arts, drawn by one of the cadets, when

Bang! tr-tr-tr-tr-tr-tr. Bang! tr-tr-tr-tr-tr-tr went the drums again.
Off they hurried to the parade-ground, and there, out in the bright
morning sunlight, which came down like "flickering gold" through the
glowing air, galloped that fierce and brave Colonel Hardie, who looked
as if he should consider it the merest trifle to fight a dozen enemies
at once, and kill them all, as a matter of course.

And out galloped a regiment of cadets, while Colonel Hardie, wheeling
round, awaited their coming.

With their drawn swords flashing in the glorious brightness, and the
gallant Colonel now at their head; they wheeled about, and turned
about, dashed here and there, suddenly advancing, then as suddenly
retreating, with their horses rearing and prancing, and snorting and
dancing, till you would have been sure they were in the greatest
possible hurry to rush full tilt at somebody, no matter who, and
instantly run them through with their sharp naked swords, without
giving them a ghost of a chance to cry "Quarter."

The children looked on with great eyes and a kind of delicious fear,
and were almost crazy after the drill was over, to run and beg the
cadets to lend them their horses and swords, so as to practise the
cavalry drill themselves.

They walked on the edge of the parade-ground, looking all around them
with the most amused and delighted interest; at times fairly singing
and skipping for joy, and eagerly planning long walks and voyages of
discovery.

Minnie thought there must be a "day party" somewhere, the people were
dressed so fine, and everybody seemed so very happy.

Numbers of elegantly dressed ladies were walking about, and some
fine-looking officers were paying them all the compliments they could
think of. In the midst of a group of gentlemen, high above them all,
towered the majestic form of the brave General Scott, who has won so
many battles for us in Mexico, and who is Commander-in-Chief of all
the soldiers in our country. The children looked at him with the
greatest admiration; and the boys made up their minds that it was
absolutely necessary they should be soldiers when they grew up; and
they would have given all they possessed to sleep now in the canvas
tents like the brave cadets.

And now the children began to descend a winding path, and wandered
down a beautiful road where the trees met overhead. The air was
fragrant with the woodbine which curled round the trunks of the trees,
while, at their feet, tiny harebells and the purple violet modestly
peeped up.

Jumping, skipping, and gathering wild flowers, they came at length to
a lovely open space scooped out of the rock, as it seemed, in the
centre of which is a crystal spring, which comes up sweet and clear
into a stone basin.

Upon this basin they read the name of the great "Kosciusko;" and this
was his garden, where he used to sit for many hours in the day reading
his book, or admiring the glorious works of God spread before him. The
children looked with love and admiration upon the name and place where
the good and brave Pole had been; and the boys audibly hoped that they
would do something very noble and brave when they grew up, so that
everybody might speak well of them.

As they drew near the house, they saw a lady sitting in the bowery
porch with their mother.

"Goodness!" cried half a dozen of them, "it's Aunt Fanny! Did you
ever?" And thereupon they charged like a company of cadets going to
fire on the run, and shot Aunt Fanny with a whole volley of kisses.

It was really a wonder she looked so well after it; fifty kisses in a
minute is pretty severe loving; but Aunt Fanny only laughed when she
could catch her breath, and, taking Minnie on her lap, asked what
particular fun and mischief they had been about lately.

Then didn't they have a grand time, telling about their journey? and
the wonderful fairy adventures of Charley? And Charley, who was
sitting leaning against his mother, declared that he could not have
dreamt them, because he remembered them all so well, and he had felt
so much better ever since the beautiful fairy Queen had taken him in
charge.

"Why," cried Aunt Fanny, "I shall have to go back to Idlewild, where I
passed two delightful hours this morning, right away, and tell all
this to the lovely children I saw there. I am sure Edith, and Daisy,
and sweet little Bailey, would go straightway down to their beautiful
Glen, to hunt up the fairies that no doubt live there hidden under the
ferns and mosses, so fairily fine and delicate.

"O Aunt Fanny!" cried the children, "do tell us about Idlewild and
dear little Edith, and Daisy, and Bailey Idlewild."

"That is not the name of the children, you monkeys," said Aunt Fanny,
laughing, "any more than you are Harry and Minnie Nightcap. It is the
fanciful, dreamily sweet name of the place; and the pure life and
neighborly love ever adorning and brightening that graceful and kindly
house-roof, make June sunshine all over the lovely place the year
round."

"Ah! how delightful it must be," cried the children; "do tell us, Aunt
Fanny, all about your visit."

"Well, to begin at the beginning, I went up to Cornwall upon some
business, and I staid all night at a house just this side of the
beautiful Idlewild Glen. In the evening I was invited to go to a
Sunday-school celebration; I was very glad to get this invitation,
because I love children so much. The services were all very
interesting, but the best thing of all was a most beautiful story
which was told, to prove the blessed effect of love upon the heart,
and how much better it was to govern by _love_, than by fear and
continual punishment."

"_We_ know that!" exclaimed the children, "that's the very way mother
governs us--don't you, mamma?" and they all had to give her a kiss
before they said, "Please go on, Aunt Fanny; do tell us the story."

"The teacher said it was true, every word of it, but I do not know
whether he got it out of a book, or whether it happened to some
children he knew; perhaps you have read it already."

"O dear! no, we haven't, I'm sure," said the children, "and if we
have, your way of telling it will make it new again. Come, Aunt Fanny,
tell the story."

"Well, then, here it is--Once on a time a good old farmer said to his
wife, 'Wife, you know poor neighbor Jones died a little while ago, and
his little son Johnny is left alone in the world. Suppose we take him?
One more will make very little difference. Shall we?'

"'O deary me! no,' said the wife, 'I wouldn't have him among our
children for any thing! Why, he's worse than a little heathen!'

"'So he is,' said the farmer, 'I'm a little afraid to try it
myself--that's a fact!'

"Now while the old farmer was talking, he was also busily engaged in
eating his dinner of pork and greens, and his children had kept their
ears open, and had heard all that was said.

"Presently one of the boys, whose name was Luke, looked up and said,
'Father, you know we send _one good missionary_ among a _great many
heathen_. Now, why can't we bring this _one little heathen_ among a
great many good people? I'll lend Johnny my kite and ball, and we'll
be so kind to him he will never _want_ to be bad. Father, WE'LL LOVE
HIM GOOD.'

"The good old farmer, who tried his best to keep God's holy
commandments, and especially to 'love his neighbor,' thought this an
excellent plan; so he brought Johnny home with him the very next day.

"Sure enough, Johnny was worse than any heathen. He broke the good
little boy's ball, tore his kite all to pieces, pulled little Susie's
hair, pinched the baby, kicked the small children, and butted the
large boys with his head, and, in short, behaved so badly, that they
were all nearly crying: still they would not give up Luke's plan, but
kept on trying to be kind to him.

"But it was all of no use; Johnny was really a dreadful boy. At last
the old farmer said, 'Well, we can't go on so with Johnny; he must
have obedience knocked into him like a nail in a plank of wood. I must
try if I can't whip him into better behavior:' so he beat the bad
boy, and whipped him, and shook him till his teeth rattled in his
head, and his hair was all in a friz about his eyes. But, alas! it did
no good; Johnny was as bad as ever.

"Then the farmer said, 'Wife, this is a very bad business; whipping
does not make Johnny any better; we must try if we can't STARVE the
obstinacy out of him.'

"'I don't like to do that,' said the wife.

"'But it must be done,' answered the old farmer; 'it is our duty to
try to make him a good boy.'

"So they shut him up in the great garret, where paper bags of dried
herbs, and strings of red peppers, and great cobwebs, kept him
company. They gave him nothing to eat and drink but dry bread and a
cup of water.

"Every now and then the farmer's wife would come, tap at the door, and
say, 'Johnny, will you be good _now_?' and Johnny would shout out in a
fierce defiant voice, 'No! no! I won't! You may lock me up forever and
ever, and I won't be good.' So the poor farmer's wife would heave a
sigh and go away.

"All the morning little Susie had been very silent, with the tears
just trembling on her eyelids. She felt very much grieved that Johnny
was such a bad boy, and she could not bear to think of him in the
lonely garret with no company but his wicked thoughts: so, after
dinner, she crept softly up to her mother, and said, 'Mother, I think
I can get Johnny to be good, if you will let me try.'

"'Well,' said her mother, smoothing her hair lovingly, 'what is your
plan?'

"'Why, mother,' answered the little girl, 'I will go and tell Johnny
that I will be locked up instead of him, and he may go play with my
dear little boat that brother made, and named for me.'

"The mother looked at her a moment with a loving tear swelling in her
eyes, then she said, 'Very well, you may go.'

"So Susie took down the key of the garret, which hung behind the door,
and went up stairs, unlocked the door, and then tapped gently.
'Johnny, may I come in?' said she.

"'What do you want _now_?' grumbled the bad boy. Susie went in, and
going softly up to him, she said--'Johnny, mother says you may go
and play with my little boat this afternoon, and I will be locked up
instead.'

"I am ashamed to say that Johnny was mean enough to accept this offer,
and let the little girl bear his punishment; for without even stopping
to thank her, he started up and made off, slamming the door behind
him, and locking it with a spiteful snap.

"He had a famous time sailing the pretty little boat in the brook; and
only came in at tea-time--as hungry as a bear.

"After he had eaten a hearty meal of bread and butter, baked pears,
and a great piece of nice gingerbread, he noticed that the farmer's
wife commenced to clear away the things, and then he remembered poor
little Susie. He sat silent a good while, but at last he could not
stand it any longer, and he said--'Say? ain't you agoing to give that
little gal up stairs any tea? say?'

"'Yes, Johnny,' answered the mother, 'you can take this to her,' and
she handed him a piece of dry bread on a plate.

"Johnny took the plate, carried it up stairs, and began to kick and
bang at the door--Thump! bump! thump!

"'Unlock it and come in,' cried Susie. So Johnny did so, and went in;
but when he saw the dear little child sitting there so patiently and
smiling at him, a strange trembling came to his lips, and without
saying a word, he put down the plate, and darted away.

"All that night Susie staid in the garret, and slept as quietly and
sweetly as if she had been in her own little room.

"When the next day came, Johnny felt very much like asking pardon for
his bad conduct, and begging that Susie might come down from her
captivity, while he took her place; but the sun was shining
gloriously, and Johnny thought of the little boat; and so, driving
away the good thoughts and impulses, he eat his breakfast, snatched up
the boat, and ran out to play.

"When dinner-time came, he was the very first to come in, he was so
hungry; and soon after the rest of the family, _except_ one, took
their places.

"'Where's Susie?' asked Johnny.

"'She is locked up in the garret,' said her mother.

"'Can't she have any dinner?'

"'Yes; she can have some dry bread;' and the farmer's wife gave him a
piece on a plate, as before.

"Johnny took it, and went slowly up stairs. He opened the door. There
sat Susie, patient and silent. He put the plate beside her, but
instead of going away, he stood looking at her in silence.

"Presently he burst out with--'Susie! you're a fool, I say! a perfect
fool! Before I'd let myself be locked up, I'd--I'd--' here Johnny
stopped; a great lump came into his throat, and was choking him. He
drew in his breath with a painful sob, and then burst into an agony of
tears, and rushing up to Susie, he threw his arms about her neck, and
cried out--

"'O Susie! Susie! please forgive me. I'll never be so bad again,
never. They might have whipped me forever, and starved me forever, and
it would just have made me worse; but you (and here the great tears
came fast and faster)--you have LOVED ME GOOD.'"

"O----h!" cried the children, taking long breaths, and wiping their
eyes, "how lovely!--what a good, _GOOD_ story--what a dear, darling
Susie! She must have heard of mamma, when she wanted to _LOVE_ Johnny
good."

"Yes," said Aunt Fanny, "I think she was very much like your dear
mother, and you children can hardly know what a blessed lot is yours,
in having a mother who rules you by LOVE."

"Yes, we do! yes, we do!" cried the children; we know she is a perfect
darling; and thereupon the little mother underwent a series of
caresses quite alarming to witness.

"And now about my visit to Idlewild," said Aunt Fanny, when they were
once more quiet. "Soon after breakfast I commenced my walk. I had to
cross the wild and beautiful ravine. I am afraid I looked a little
like a figure of fun, scrambling and scratching down the slippery
descent. I have no doubt some of Charley's fairies were laughing at me
all the time; and I am sure the beautiful little waterfall did, as it
came joyously dancing down the great black rocks. Really, some of the
places were as slippery as ice; and I had to go a-sliding in the
summer time, whether I wanted to or not."

"How nice!" cried the children; "that would just have suited the old
woman in Mother Goose, who wanted her children to slide on dry ground.
You can't drown that way, you know."

"Not exactly; but at last I stood upon the famous zigzag bridge, which
is only a single plank with a railing on one side, made of a long,
slender sapling. And now, how lovely the scene was that I looked
upon! The sun came in dimples and ripples of light through the trees,
and the waterfall, with its soft white foam, talked to me in a voice
full of power and beauty, of the greatness and goodness of God.

"When I got to the house, I was welcomed by its fair and gentle
mistress with a simple courtesy, that made me feel at home at once.
Very soon a sweet little maiden came to me, and shyly offered her
hand; she told me her name was Daisy, and then she called her baby
brother. He was afraid of me at first, but when I said, 'Why, Bailey,
I know all about you. I know how you fed the little birds last
winter'"--

"Oh," interrupted the children, "how did he feed the little birds,
Aunt Fanny?"

"If you will put me in mind, I will tell you by and by. Then Bailey
looked at me when I said that, with wide-open eyes; and I continued,
'I know all about the peacock, too, so I do--more, too.'

"Then he came right up to me, and laid his dear little curly head in
my lap, and looking up in my face with his merry, bright blue eyes, he
said--'I've got a horse.'

"'Why, no! You don't tell me so!' I exclaimed. 'Why, I'm astonished!
How many legs has he?'

"'Two, nailed fast, and two, kicking up in the air.'

"'My patience! what a horse!' said I.

"'But come!' said the little darling fellow, pulling at my dress,
'come see my horse! come!'

"So Daisy and the mother, and Bailey and I, went out of the room. Of
course I expected to be conducted to the stables; but we began to
mount the stairs, and up we went till we arrived at the third story,
Bailey holding me fast by the hand. We went into a large room--the
children's play-room--from the windows of which there was a
magnificent view. Sitting at one of them, was the kind,
motherly-looking nurse, to whom I was introduced as to an old friend.
As I pressed her hand, her eyes turned fondly upon her mistress and
the lovely children. I looked around, and sure enough, in one corner
was a prancing charger, standing on his hind legs, which were made
fast to a spring rocker, while the others were kicking up in the air,
just as Bailey had told me.

"Then the little fellow was lifted up on his horse, and I said, "Get
up, pony;" and then all of a sudden such a funny little shy fit came
over Bailey, that down went his curly head on the horse's neck, and he
very nearly tumbled off. After that he dismounted, and pulling down
the prancing legs of the horse, got between them, and holding fast, he
had a fine ride after an ingenious invention of his own; for, as the
horse's legs rose in the air, up went little Bailey, and then down he
came with a funny little stamp of his feet on the carpet, which sent
him into the air again.

"Then the dear little fair-haired Daisy showed me her birds,
'Buttercup' and 'Primrose,' and two others whose names I did not hear;
and then we went down stairs again.

"In the charming library we met another daughter, a lovely young lady,
and a friend who was visiting her. I knew this young lady before, and
loved her very much; and I was very glad to meet her; and you may be
sure we were very merry together.

"Just then we heard Bailey's voice in the hall, lifted up in loud
wailing and weeping. We all rushed out, thinking the sweet little
fellow had fallen down stairs. But he was safe, though the great tears
were running down his cheeks; and he sobbed out, 'Mamma! mamma! Edith
won't come to see Aunt Fanny!' Dear little fellow! It seems that
Edith was the shyest little maiden in the world, and Bailey, in his
loving endeavor to get her to come to me, had first coaxed her, then
kissed her over and over again, and at last, broken-hearted about it,
had burst into loud crying. Edith stood at the turn of the stairs,
ready to dart away; and when I said, 'Do come, darling--come, little
Edith,' she fled like a frightened fawn, upon which Bailey began
lamenting again, and I had hard work to bring the peace once more into
his little, loving, troubled heart.

"When we returned to the room, Miss Laura, the young lady who was
visiting the family, told a funny story about Bailey. She was walking
in the beautiful glen before breakfast, and frolicking round her were
Gouldy, and Caesar, and Bailey."

"Were they all boys? or what?" asked the children.

"Not exactly, for two of them were dogs; but far better and gentler
companions than _some_ boys I know. Gouldy was a dear old fellow, that
would not have hurt a hair of your head for a thousand dollars in
gold, even if he knew about or cared for money; and Caesar--Oh! he was
something and somebody very extra indeed."

"What! did he have horns on his head?" asked Harry.

[Illustration: DR. KANE AND CAESAR IN THE ARCTIC REGIONS.]

"Not a horn; but he once belonged to the good and famous Dr. Kane, the
great Arctic explorer; and Caesar had seen as many icebergs and
white bears as he wanted to, and a few over, I imagine; for Dr. Kane
gave him to his friend, the owner of Idlewild; and the good dog tells
his new master every day by an extra flourish of his tail, how happy
he is, and how much he loves to live in such a lovely place, and with
such lovely children.

"Well, as I was telling you, the dogs and little Bailey were
scampering here and there, while Miss Laura walked in the glen,
thinking how sweetly the rippling golden light came down through the
green leaves. After a while she thought it was time to return, so she
called--'Come, Gouldy, come, Caesar, come, Bailey. It is time to go
home.' Up bounded the two dogs at her bidding, but the darling little
rogue, Bailey, pretended to be very busy looking for something in the
grass. Then the dogs, seeing that _he_ did not mind, went leaping off,
tumbling over each other, pretending to bite, and growling at a great
rate. So Miss Laura walked a few steps nearer Bailey, and called
again--'Come, Gouldy, come, Caesar, come, _Bailey_.' The dogs ran to
her as before, but Bailey walked as grave as any deacon, and looking
sideways at her, with a merry twinkle in his blue eyes, and a comical
little chuckle, he said--'Miss Laura, there is no _dog_ of that name
in this place.' His face looked so full of fun and mischief, that Miss
Laura screamed out laughing, and then Bailey laughed, and was very
glad he had been so funny."

"What a funny little fellow," exclaimed the children, "to make believe
Miss Laura did not mean him when she called. I _do_ wish he could come
and play with us. He's a darling! Well, please go on Aunt Fanny."

"While we were sitting in the parlor, Bailey brought me a superb book
of engravings to look at. They were flowers. I only wish you could
have heard him telling me the long names, slowly and carefully, in
such a sweet little voice--'This is the Rho-de-den-dron,' and then
giving a quick, satisfied sigh, because he had gotten it all right.
When he showed me a picture of a splendid lily, I looked at the
beautiful flower, and then at his innocent baby-brow, and in his
unclouded eyes, through which the immortal soul shone purer and
whiter than any lily, and softly said--'Consider the lilies of the
field; they toil not, neither do they spin;' and as I bent over to
kiss this immortal lily, I heard the gentle little mother murmur--'Yet
Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.' Truly the
innocence of a little child invests him with a greater glory than any
this world can give. Why may we not always retain it, pure and
undefiled?

"At last the carriage came to take me away; and they all bid me a kind
adieu; and Bailey and Daisy kissed me so lovingly, that I felt the
kisses all the way to my heart, where I mean to keep the memory of
them as long as I live. Wonderful to relate, something happened at the
very last moment, that made Bailey dance with delight, for Edith, shy
Edith, ran to me and put up her sweet pink and white cheek for a kiss;
and so I left beautiful Idlewild, a very happy Aunt Fanny."

The children were delighted with this account, which Minnie called "a
very nice _inscription_."

"And now about the birds, Aunt Fanny. You know you told us to put you
in mind."

"Oh, yes. Well, I will try to remember what I read in the Home Journal
a year ago about the dear little winter birds at Idlewild."

"There is a charming study at the north-west corner of the house; and
the father of Daisy, and Edith, and Bailey, began his beautiful little
story, by saying that he had two very sociable sets of visitors in
his study early every morning. First the little folks jump out of
their beds, and run in to him in their slippers and nightgowns, just
as Laina the cook, with her kind dark face, comes along with the
tea-tray for him, and bread for the second set of visitors. The
children crumble the bread very joyfully and carefully, and the window
is quickly opened, (for it is winter, and snowing,) and the
bread-feast is spread out over the roof of the portico.

"Then the children cluster round the fire, and talk about the dogs and
the peacock and their lessons, keeping one eye upon the window, near
which the snow-white hemlocks are bowing in the wintry wind.

"Presently--'Hush! There they are!' and the little nightgowns flutter
softly to the window, and gaze lovingly at fifteen or twenty little
birds, in only their bare feet and feathers, who have come with the
first peep of dawn, and are made happy with a bountiful breakfast.
They were dear old birds, that had been before, and no doubt some
invited friends. Such a nice time as they all have! inside the window
and out; and the children are so delighted that they can soften the
winter for those poor little houseless ones out in the cold, who,
remembering the kindness of last year, came so trustingly again. It
was this confidence and love that was shown by the dear little birds,
that made the children so glad; and a rosier, happier troop of little
folk, could hardly be found than this early morning party in Idlewild
study."

"Oh! oh! how sweet! how lovely!" cried the children. "How we wish we
lived at Idlewild, or at any rate in the country, where we could feed
the little birds. We wish it would snow like every thing this very
minute."

Aunt Fanny laughed, and said she was delighted, the story had pleased
them so much, but was afraid she had not done it justice, as it had
been most beautifully told in the Home Journal; but she could not
remember the exact words.

[Illustration: THE WICKED WATER FAIRY.]

After tea that evening, the whole family went out in a large row-boat.
It was bright moonlight. A light breeze stole through the
tree-tops, making soft music; and it was so still and sweet on the
water, that everybody felt a thrill of delight.

Charley had been carried down to the water, and he sat in the bow of
the boat, leaning his head upon his mother's breast. He was in no
pain, and soothed by the measured and musical drip of the oars, he
closed his blue eyes and fell into a sweet sleep.

In a few moments he was awakened by a tap upon his arm; opening his
eyes, he beheld, close by him, seated upon the back of a flying-fish,
an ugly kelpie, or water-fairy, with a malevolent, evil aspect, who
regarded him with a look of hate.

"Come out of the boat! come out of the boat!" he said, in a baleful
whisper.

Spite of his terror and shrinking, Charley felt himself impelled to
lean over and look down into the moon-lit water.

Oh! what frightful forms he saw! Some riding on crabs, some on great
leeches, and more on the backs of flying-fishes, who took tremendous
leaps in the air, while their riders uttered frantic yells of delight.

[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF THE FAIRIES.]

The poor boy felt that some horrible but irresistible power was
dragging him down, down into the deep water, where these wicked imps
would bury him in some dark cave. He struggled to resist the impulse
to plunge, but it grew stronger and stronger, till, with a faint moan
of despair, he was just yielding to his hapless fate, when the sound
of distant fairy music broke upon his ear, and raising his head, he
beheld, riding swiftly down on the moonbeams, in all the pomp and
blazonry of military equipment, a band of armed fairy knights, with
Firefly at their head. On they came, with dash and hurry, and soon the
air was darkened with arrows and javelins hurled at the hateful
water-sprites.

Fast and sharp they came, and in a very few moments a still more
brilliant light gleamed from the eyes of the victorious army, as the
kelpies, after a short but furious resistance, sank yelling with rage
and disappointment beneath the wave, and the water became still and
glassy as before.

The agitated boy heard a tiny but hearty shout of triumph, and then
the brave little fairy soldiers, after kissing their hands and waving
their gossamer scarfs at Charley, turned and flew on their light and
winged steeds, towards the beautiful hollow from which the good Queen
had sent them, for she knew, by her fairy power, the danger her
beloved Charley was in.

The music, faint and sweet, lingered till the last lance had flashed
in the moonbeams, as it disappeared over the tall tree-tops, and then
it died insensibly away, so lingering were the delicious notes.

Then the wondering boy looking round, saw only the bright moon, the
still water, and the row-boat full of his brothers and sisters.

"Why, Charley," said his mother, kissing him, "you have had a nice
little sleep; haven't you?"

"Sleep? Oh no!" answered the bewildered child. "Did you see the
battle?"

"BATTLE!" screamed all the children. "Why, Charley, you must be
getting crazy!"

"Not at all," said Charley, very earnestly, "this time it really
happened;" and he told of the battle of the fairies, while the
children opened their eyes and mouths so wide with astonishment, that
their faces looked all holes; and they stared with all their might up
at the moonbeams and down into the water, in the hope that at least
some one fairy might have found it necessary to see Charley safe on
dry land; but I am sorry to have to relate that they were not
gratified with a sight, though their very eye-balls stuck out, so
intense and eager did they look, and so sure was Charley that he had
not been asleep.

_Had he been asleep?_

And now, for more than a month after this, Charley and the rest of the
children lived a most delightful life. They were up at drum-beat
every morning. They would not have missed a parade on any account
whatever, that is, all except Charley, and he enjoyed it almost as
much as the rest. They were so enthusiastic and glowing in their
descriptions. They even went to a stag-dance at night, and almost
killed themselves laughing at the cadets.

This stag-dance is performed on the green. A ring is formed, and a
tallow candle is stuck in a cut potato, and placed at intervals round
the circle; and within this not very brilliant illumination, the
cadets dance with each other to the excellent music of the band. Those
who personate ladies, take hold of their little bob-tailed jackets,
and prink and mince, and take fine airs upon themselves, and look so
precisely like fine ladies, that the real fine ladies looking at them,
want to give them a good shaking.

But the children went off into fits of laughter at the long and
quizzical shadows on the ground. When the cadets dance a figure, their
shadows look like a company of sickly, melancholy monkeys, which dodge
about in a distracting way, and look so irresistibly funny, that
everybody shouts with laughter--and it is a very merry spectacle.

Then this pleasant family had the most delightful tea parties in an
arbor at the back of the house. To be sure the ear-wigs and
daddy-long-legs, _would_ drop into their tea once in a while, making
them first squeal, and jump up, and then laugh, and a grasshopper or
two, _would_ hop suddenly on the cake, and hop more suddenly off,
before they could catch him; but what of that? Some people shriek so
if a grasshopper hops near them, you would think it was an elephant
come to pack them up in his trunk, for the rest of their lives; but
these children had more sense, and did not mind a little insect a
thousand times smaller than themselves.

       *       *       *       *       *

And now I must come to a sad, sad part of my story--I dread to begin
it--and would gladly have told you a great deal more about the
fairies, and what they did for Charley; but Mr. Appleton says, you
would not like to have the same story go through two books, and this,
I am afraid, is already too long.

But I must relate one circumstance. Charley had retired to his little
bed one evening earlier than usual; dark, lowering clouds had sped
quickly over the sky, soon after he fell asleep. The tops of the high
trees, skirting the fairy hollow, waved restlessly to and fro, and the
angry growls of the thunder portended a violent storm. This night,
there was to have been a festival in the beautiful hollow.

As the fairies flew along in the troubled air, and the Queen tried
vainly to charm away the coming tempest, (for they were to carry
Charley to the hollow that night,) a dark form, like gathered mist,
went slowly past, her head bent, her arms folded.

And now, the lightnings came with a blinding glare, and the grand
booming of Heaven's artillery awoke the solemn echoes. Fast the
affrighted, shuddering fairies sped away, to hide under the fern
leaves, and in the tiny caves at the foot of the rocks. But the misty,
shadowy form still floated past, till it arrived at the open window of
Charley's room.

[Illustration: THE ANGEL OF DEATH.]

With noiseless motion it glided to the bed, bent over Charley, and
whispered in a soft, sweet voice, "Beloved one, you are taken away in
your early and lovely spring-time, because for you, to live, is to
suffer. You will go where there are no storms, no sorrows, no
sufferings; clasped in my arms, you will sleep, and be at rest
forever."

And Charley smiled lovingly upon the ANGEL OF DEATH, and his sleep
grew deeper, and calmer, and sweeter. But the next day, he told his
mother, and sisters, and brothers, of his mournful visitor, who had
passed out of the window into the veiling clouds, and disappeared. The
children burst into passionate weeping, and clasped him in their arms,
and refused to let him go. The little mother knew he had been
_dreaming as before_; but alas! she knew also only too well, that her
darling's time had come. He suffered no pain; but he became weaker and
weaker, and life was slowly but surely ebbing away. Consumption, that
fell disease, had nearly finished her baleful work, and his lamp of
life, flickering and dim, would soon pass away into the dark valley of
the shadow of death.

God knew best, and in His infinite wisdom saw fit to take Charley out
of this wearisome world, in which, if he had lived, he would suffer so
much.

But the child was so much beloved. _He was the sunlight of the house_;
and the pang of parting would be so cruel. They knew that they would
meet again in the place Jesus had prepared for them in His Father's
house--they knew _that_; but how could they help grieving now?

The good doctor came every day, and used his utmost skill, for he
dearly loved the sweet, patient child; but it was of no avail,
Charley's everlasting HOME was ready for him.

Slowly and sadly the poor children wandered around; for their sorrow
pressed like a weight upon them. They would come softly to his
bedside, smooth his golden hair, and kiss his forehead, and hope he
would yet get well; then seeing his pallid face, and little wasted
hands lying so still outside of the white bedspread, they would go
hastily away, and shed bitter, bitter tears; vainly struggling to
repress them, lest he should hear and be grieved.

The joyous little birds still sang in the trees; the majestic
Highlands still rose in the blue air; and the splendid sunset clouds
still covered their summits with a glory; the glittering water was
beautiful as ever. The drums beat to reveille, and crowds of gay
people walked about the parade-ground.

And Charley was dying.

Even now, the loving guardian angels were waiting on the other side of
the dark valley, to conduct this summer blossom to his heavenly home.
Myriads of little children were tuning their golden harps, to greet
his purified spirit with a hymn of joyful welcome, and Jesus was
saying, "Come."

And now, his last day on earth was passing--lovely and serene.
Charley's little bed had been moved in the afternoon, close to the
open window, where he could see the white sails gliding by on the
smooth silvery water. A peace from within, not of this world,
illuminated his sweet face. He had sent for all his brothers and
sisters, and with a faint voice, and at broken intervals, was talking
to them, and giving to each one some little trifle belonging to him;
and one by one, convulsed with sobs, they would rush from the
room--and after a painful struggle would return, with their tears
forced back; their loving gaze fastened upon him, whom in a few short
hours they would see no more.

When the good doctor entered, and saw that the end was so near, his
features worked painfully, and covering his face with his hands, in
another moment the great scalding tears trickled through. This brave
man, in the midst of battle, with the death strokes falling right and
left, and the great cannons booming destruction before him, had walked
without fear or flinching among the dead and wounded, giving help and
succor; but now, loving and tender-hearted as he was brave, he had
covered his face, and was weeping like a child.

"Tell the doctor not to cry," whispered the dying boy. "I am going
home to Jesus. I am going _now_," he said, with a gasping sigh. "Kiss
me, mother. Oh! how I thank you for all your love and kindness. I
thank you all; I bless you all. God bless you all;" and thus to the
end, grateful and loving, Charley spoke his last words.

For now his silken hair lay heavy and damp upon his snow-white
forehead; and as the solemn twilight deepened into shade, and the
first star broke like a promise in the sky, one little upward
fluttering sigh was heard, and they knew that this life was ended, and
Charley was winging his bright way to HEAVEN.

Not a word was spoken, not a sob broke the stillness. The moonbeams,
struggling into the room, disclosed the little mother on her knees by
the small white couch, her head buried in the white coverings. The
children sat sorrow-stricken, motionless, almost breathless, their
eyes fastened on the face of the dead child, in a despairing hope that
he might speak again; but not a breath stirred those still lips. The
good doctor, after a while, tenderly raised the heart-broken mother,
and led her away, and then sending for some kind neighbors, they
gently and lovingly prepared the remains of Charley for their last
quiet resting-place.

How lovely now looked what was left of the good and lovely boy. The
glistening golden curls pressed closely around the broad, open brow,
white as a lily, and a heaven-sent smile just parted the pale lips.
The leaves of a cluster of white roses curled around his little hands,
which were folded so tenderly above his stilled and quiet heart; and
every flower that he loved was placed with tears and kisses all about
him.

But oh! what a desolate cry arose in those children's hearts when the
little coffin was closed, and the sweet, peaceful face was seen no
more. Charley was in heaven--Charley was happy, but they wanted him,
_they wanted him_.

It seemed so cruel that the world should go on gay as ever, and their
Charley dead. They wondered, as they came on board the boat, which was
to carry what was left of their darling back to New York, they
wondered why every face was not tearful, when theirs was so full of
sorrow.

They made a little grave for him in the beautiful Greenwood Cemetery.
The soft moonlight sleeps lovingly upon it, and people tread lightly
as they approach and read the name of "LAME CHARLEY."

Slowly and sadly passed the rest of the summer, for the little mother
told no more stories. Once she tried, for she could not bear to see
the sad faces of her children; alas! that one vanished face, with its
sweet, grateful smile, and little tender ways, came before her, and
the story was lost in a flood of tears.

But late one lovely evening, as she was sitting by the open window,
thinking of her loved and lost one, some friend, unseen beneath, sang
these words, to a sweet and tender melody--

  "Mildly, sweet summer moon,
      Shine on this mother, weeping;
  Whisper within her heart,
      'He is not dead, but sleeping.'

  "Softly, sweet summer stars,
      Evermore vigil keeping,
  Tell her, in steadfast tones,
      'He is not dead, but sleeping.'

  "Gently, sweet summer wind,
      All things in perfume steeping;
  Breathe in her sorrowing soul,
      'He is not dead, but sleeping;

  "'And safe in Jesus' arms,
      His great reward is reaping.'
  Up! mother, up! and cry,
      'He is not dead, but sleeping.'"

A faint flush passed over the mother's pale cheek, for she knew that
some one who loved her, had thus tenderly warned her that her grief
was not endured as hopefully as it should be. She had not remembered
that her beloved Charley was only "gone before, not lost."

With an earnest, prayerful effort, she once more grew cheerful, and
with her cheerfulness came happiness to the children's hearts, though
they all their lives will remember their good, pure, and tenderly
beloved brother--whom you, dear little reader, also love, and know as

LAME CHARLEY.


Dear little readers, you and I have now followed Charley together
through six books, in which his life, and the lives of his brothers
and sisters, have been faithfully portrayed. If the good and pure life
of the little lame child, now happy in heaven, gives you _one_
steadfast resolution, to endeavor, from this time forth, to lead a
good and pure life, it will gladden the inmost heart of your loving

               AUNT FANNY.


THE END.




Transcriber's Note:

  Variations and inconsistencies in spelling, hyphenation, and
  punctuation in the original text have been retained in this ebook.





End of Project Gutenberg's The Fairy Nightcaps, by Frances Elizabeth Barrow

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