Fairy Book, Sophie May [reading fiction TXT] 📗
- Author: Sophie May
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Next morning it was no better, but far worse. Her wretched parents had gone home, believing her drowned in the sea. Poor Little One was now all alone in the world, and her heart ached with the cold. Kind friends gave her food and shelter, and her clothing was warm as warm could be; still her heart ached with the cold. People praised her beauty so much that she dared not look up to let them see how lovely she was; but she had lost both her father and mother, and her heart ached and ached. She thought winter was coming on; and the world was growing so chilly, that now she must certainly set out for the Summer-land. Then she said,—
“If I am a sylphid, perhaps my home is over the hills, and far away. Yes: I think it must be in the country where the music goes.”
For she thought, when she heard music, that it seemed to hover and float over the earth, and lose itself in the sky; so she began to set her face toward the country where the music goes. But, though she gazed till her eyes ached, she never saw her long-lost home, nor so much as a glimpse of one of its spires.
One night, after gazing and weeping till she could scarcely see, and had no tears left, the bright being who visited her dreams came and whispered,—
O’er the mountain shining,
You will never enter there
By looking up and pining.”
“Dear me! then what shall I do?” said Little One, clasping her hands. “I am tired of the dropping rain, and the bleak winds; I have lost my father and mother; I long to go home to the Summer-land.”
“There are hills to climb, and streams to cross,” said the fairy.
“But I have stout shoes,” laughed Little One.
“There are thorns and briers all along the road.”
“But I can bear to be pricked.”
“Then I will guide you,” said the fairy.
“How can that be?” cried the child. “You come to me in dreams; but by daylight I cannot see so much as the tips of your wings.”
“Listen, and you will hear my voice,” replied the fairy. “Set out toward the East, at dawn, to-morrow, and I will be with you.”
When Little One awoke, the sun was rising, and she said,—
“Oh that golden gate! The sun has left it open: do you see it, beautiful lady?”
“I see it,” whispered the fairy: “I am close beside you.”
“Then,” said Little One, fastening her dress, and putting on all the jewels she could possibly carry, “I think I will set out at once; for, if I make all speed, I may reach the Summer-land before that golden gate is closed.”
She pressed on, as the fairy directed, up a steep hill, her eyes fixed on the glowing eastern sky. But, as the sun strode up higher, the morning clouds melted away.
“Where is my golden gate?” cried the child.
“Weeping so soon?” whispered the fairy.
“Do not scold me, dear Whisper,” moaned the child; “you know I have lost my kind father and mother; and the thorns prick me; and then this is such a lonely road; there is nobody to be seen.”
The truth was, there were children gathering strawberries on the hill, and old women digging herbs; but Little One did not see them, for she was all the while watching the sky. But she was soon obliged to pause, and take breath.
“Look about you,” said the Whisper, “you may see some one as unhappy as yourself.”
The child looked, and saw a little girl driving a goat; while large tears trickled down her cheeks, and moistened her tattered dress. For a moment, Little One’s heart ceased aching with its own troubles.
“What is your name, little girl?” said she: “and why do you weep?”
“My name is Poor Dorel,” replied the child; “my father and mother are long since dead; and I have nothing to eat but goat’s milk and strawberries:” and, as she spoke, the large tears started afresh.
“Poor Dorel! you are the first one I ever saw who had as much trouble as I. I, too, have lost a father and mother.”
“Were they a king and queen?” asked Dorel, wiping her eyes, and gazing at Little One’s beautiful dress and glittering ornaments.
“They loved me dearly,” replied Little One sadly; “yet I never heard that they were king and queen. Come with me, darling Dorel! I never before saw any one who was hungry. Come with me! I live in a country where there is food enough for everybody.”
“Where is that?” said Dorel, eagerly.
“I do not quite know, little girl; but it is not in the bosom of the earth, and it is not in the sun-bright deep: so I suppose it is over the hills, and far away.”
“Now I know who you are,” said Dorel. “You are the lost sylphid; and people say you have travelled all over the world. But, if you do not know the way home, pray how can you tell which road to take?”
“Oh! I have a guide,—a beautiful fairy, called Whisper: she shows me every step of the way. I wish you would go too, little Dorel!”
“I think I will not, little Sylphid; for, if you have only a Whisper for a guide, I do not believe you will ever get there; but, oh, you are very, very beautiful!”
“If you will not go,” said Little One, “let me, at least, give you a few of my jewels: you can sell them for bread.”
So saying, she took from her girdle some turquoise ornaments, and placed them in Dorel’s hand with a kiss which had her whole heart in it.
“Now I love you,” said Dorel; “but more for the kiss than any thing else; and I am going before you to cut down the thorns that shoot out by the wayside. I am a little mountain-girl, and know how to use the pruning-knife.”
Little One danced for joy. She found she could now walk with wonderful ease; for not only were there no more sharp thorns to prick her, but her heart was also full of a new love, which made the whole world look beautiful.
“You see the way is growing easier,” said the Whisper.
Wasting its waters forever and ever.”
“So I will,” said Little One. “Is there any one else to love?”
By and by she met an old woman, bent nearly double, and picking up dry sticks with trembling hands.
“Poor woman!” said Little One: “I am going to love you.”
“Dear me!” said the old crone, dropping her sticks, and looking up with surprise in every wrinkle: “you don’t mean me? Why, my heart is all dried up.”
“Then you need to be loved all the more,” cried Little One heartily.
The poor woman laughed; but, at the same time, brushed a tear from her eye with the corner of her apron.
“I thought,” said Little One, “I was the only unhappy one in the world: it seemed a pity my heart should ache so much; but, oh, I would rather have it ache than be dried up!”
“I suppose you never were beaten,” said the old woman; “you were never pelted with whizzing stones?”
“Indeed I never, never was!” replied Little One, greatly shocked by the question.
“By your costly dress, I know you never were so poor as to be always longing for food. Let me tell you, my good child, when one is beaten and scolded, and feels cold all winter, and hungry all summer, it is no wonder one’s heart dries up!”
Little One threw her arms about the old woman’s neck. “Let me help you pick sticks!” said she; “you are too old for hard work; your hands tremble too much.”
Swiftly gathering up a load of fagots, she put them together in a bundle.
“Now, how many jewels shall I give her?” thought the child. “She must never want for food again.”
“How many?” echoed the Whisper.
Give as the free air and sunshine are given.”
“Then she shall have half,” said Little One in great glee. “Here, poor woman, take these sapphires and rubies and diamonds, and never be hungry again!”
“Heavenly child!” said the stranger, laying her wasted hand on the sylphid’s bright head, and blessing her, “it is little except thanks that an old creature like me can give; yet may be you will not scorn this pair of little shoes: they are strong, and, when you have to step on the sharp mountain-rocks, they will serve you well.”
Little One’s delicate slippers were already much worn, and she gladly exchanged them for the goat-skin shoes; but, strange to relate, no sooner had she done so than she found herself flitting over rocks and rough places with perfect ease, and at such speed, that, when she looked back, in a moment, she had already left the old woman far behind, and out of sight. They were magical shoes; but, no matter how fast they skimmed over the ground, Dorel, out of pure love, continued to go before, talking and laughing and smoothing the way.
One by one Little One sold her jewels to buy bread, which she shared with all the needy she chanced to meet. After many days there remained but one gem; and she wept because she had no more to give. But, through her tears, she now, for the first time, fancied she could see the spires and turrets of her beautiful home, though, as yet, very far off.
“How fast I have come!” said she, laughing with delight. “But for these magical shoes, and Dorel’s pruning-knife, I should have been even now struggling at the foot of the hill.”
Then she looked down at her torn dress.
“What a sad plight I am in! no one will know me when I get home!”
“Never fear!” said the fairy: “you are sure to be welcome.”
Little One now held up her last jewel in the sunlight, while a starving boy looked at it with eager eyes.
“Take it!” said she, weeping with the tenderest pity. “I only wish it were a diamond instead of a ruby,—a diamond as large as my heart!”
THE LOST SYLPHID. Page 95.
The boy blessed her with a tremulous voice. Little One pressed on, singing softly to herself, till she came to a frightful chasm, full of water.
“How shall I ever cross it!” she cried in alarm.
“May I help you, fair Sylphid?” said the grateful boy to whom she had given her last jewel. “I can make a bridge in the twinkling of an eye.”
So saying, he threw across the roaring torrent a film which looked as frail as any spider’s web.
“It will bear you,” said the Whisper: “do not be afraid!”
So Little One ventured upon the gossamer bridge, which was to the eye as delicate as mist; but to the feet as strong as adamant. She hushed her fears, and walked over it with a stout heart.
Now, she was on the borders of the Summer-land. Here were the turrets and spires, the soft white clouds, the green fields, and
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