Uncle Joe's Stories

She spoke in poetry, of course, by which Evelyn was more than ever convinced that she was a regular, proper fairy, because poetry is the natural language of such people, and no fairy, who is at all equal to the position she aspires to hold, ever begins a conversation with a mortal in prose. Of course they get to it, after a bit, because too much rhyme bores people, and fairies never do that, because there are so many people in the world who can and do perform that feat to perfection, and fairies only care to do that which human beings cannot accomplish so easily of themselves. And thus ran the speech of the fairy, since such she was beyond all reasonable doubt.

"Welcome, gentle maiden child,
To the forest grand and wild:
Welcome to the lofty trees
Gently waving in the breeze:
Welcome to the leafy shade,
By their spreading branches made:
Welcome to the mossy bed,
'Neath their shadows overhead:
Welcome to each grassy mound
In the open spaces found,
And to every flower that springs
Near the mighty forest kings.
Thou hast wandered here full oft,
Never at the fairies scoft,
But hast aye essayed to learn
From the lovely maiden-fern,
From the honeysuckle sweet,
From the dew-drops 'neath thy feet,
Lessons of the fairy race
Not for mortal ken to trace.
But to maid of gentle mind
Fairy elves are ever kind;
If she love them, they can prove
(Giving fondly love for love)
How their might can work to aid
Manly youth or gentle maid.
Say, then, maiden, would'st thou seek
Knowledge which an elf may speak?
Would'st thou (such I scarce suppose)
Fairy succour 'gainst thy foes?
Would'st thou have another's heart
Made thine own by magic art?
Would'st thou wealth – or, better still,
Freedom from some mortal ill?
Speak thy wish, then, maiden dear:
Speak it low and speak it clear."

Evelyn listened with amazement not unmixed with pleasure. Pleasure it certainly was to find herself at last in the presence of a real live fairy, and amazement she undoubtedly felt both at the sight before her, and at the speech to which she had just listened. She was perfectly aware that her reply ought to be given in verse, and the difficulty was that she was particularly stupid at making rhymes. She was one of those children who always tried to beg off if any of those amusing games was proposed in the evenings at home, in which either everybody has to make four rhymes or more on a certain given subject, generally answering a question and introducing some noun which has nothing to do with it, or else four rhymes are given out, and everybody has to write the previous part of the four lines in any metre they please.

Evelyn, I say, always either begged to be excused playing, or else nestled up close to her father (who was rather handy at that kind of thing), and asked him to write her lines quietly for her, which he unfortunately was in the habit of doing – unfortunately, because the consequence was that at the present momentous crisis, the poor child could not by any means think what to say. One reason, perhaps, was that she had nothing particular for which she wished to ask the fairies, but, whatever the reason, no rhyme would come to her mind.

All she could think of was an occasional line of some of Dr. Watts's hymns, which did not seem to have anything at all to do with fairies, and one or two old pieces of poetry which she had heard long ago in the school-room and which kept coming into her head now, and probably keeping out something which might have answered her purpose much better.

The fairy waited for a few seconds without impatience, but as no answer appeared to be forthcoming, she stamped her foot upon the ground, and appeared visibly annoyed. Conscious that she was hardly acting either a wise or dignified part in remaining silent, Evelyn now made a great effort to remember or to invent something that might be suitable to the occasion, and as the fairy stamped her foot a second time, somewhat impatiently, she hastily blurted out: —

"Let dogs delight to bark and bite —
I don't know how to answer right;"

and then stood blushing and trembling just as if she had certainly answered wrong. Upon this the fairy gave vent to a low, musical laugh, like the last notes of a very good musical box, and then once more accosted the child as follows:

"When fairies speak in kindly mood,
To answer nothing back were rude;
Yet need you never rack your brain
To answer me in rhyme again.
Though verse be sweet to us, forsooth,
Prose, if it comes of simple truth,
From child-like lips and guileless tongue,
May pass with elves as well as song.
But say, fair child, for what intent,
With spirit young and innocent,
Untainted with the world's cold touch;
(Ah! would that we might keep thee such!)
Unfettered yet by Fashion's chain,
Untouched by pride or high disdain,
As yet unvisited by cares
Which fate for mortal life prepares,
Why hast thou left the haunts of men
To seek the lonely fairy glen?"

Whilst the fairy was speaking, Evelyn gathered together her ideas, and resolved to show that she not only had something to say, but knew how to say it. So as soon as the speaker had concluded, she replied, keeping still to rhyme, as if determined not to appear more stupid than she really was,

"How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour —
For years and years I've longed to see
A fairy's woodland bower.

How skilfully she builds her cell,
How neat she spreads the wax —
Since, now, dear elves, I've seen you well,
My spirit nothing lacks."

As soon as Evelyn had got through these verses, which she did with some little pride, she was rather surprised and even annoyed to find that their only effect was to cause all the little beings around her to indulge in a hearty fit of laughter. Their musical sounds rang through the forest, and the echo faintly returned them, whilst the child stood listening and wondering at the result of her attempt. Then the fairy queen, for such Evelyn thought she must be, spoke once again: —

"If nothing lack'st thou, mortal child,
Why wander through the forest wild
And seek, with meditative air,
The beings who inhabit there?
Since hither thou hast found thy way,
Be satisfied awhile to stay:
For those who have not been afraid
To trespass on the fairy glade,
And long, with curious mortal eye,
Our elfin mysteries to spy,
When once they know where fairies hide,
Most there be ready to abide."

As Evelyn heard these words, a cold chill ran through her veins, for they betokened to her that something was going to happen upon which she had never calculated. In an instant her thoughts flew back to the many instances of which she had read in fairy tales, of children being changed into dogs, cats, birds, toads, or something which no sensible child has the least wish to become; and the terrible fear arose that she was about to become the victim of some such unpleasant transformation. On second thoughts, however, she remembered that in most of these cases the child concerned had either been naughty and disagreeable at home, or disbelieving in or impertinent to the fairies, and had therefore deserved punishment. In her own case, she had done nothing recently at home more naughty than accidentally dropping some marmalade on her clean frock at breakfast, and had entertained such full and constant belief and respect in and for the fairies, that she was quite sure she deserved no punishment at their hands. Besides, the voice of the queen (if such she was), and the looks and gestures of her companions, had displayed neither anger nor offence at her intrusion into their glen, and she could not believe that any harm was intended to her. All these thoughts passed through the child's mind much faster than I can write them, and although she stood there in uncertainty and doubt, her momentary fear was gone directly. She was not prepared, however, for what followed.