The Fairy Godmothers and Other Tales Page 2

the sweets, the bonbons, theluscious luxuries of the repast.

  "Very few, by comparison, get them. Very few infants you know haveFairy Godmothers, but we make it a rule that those who have, shallalways be distinguished from the crowd. Other-wise our power would notbe believed in. No, my little Aglaia, all our Godchildren start fromthe point you spoke of--'caeteris paribus,' as those dingy blacklawyers say--all other things being equal--it is a question now ofbestowing extra superfine Fairy gifts."

  Aglaia tittered--"I know Sister Euphrosyne is thinking of thechristening suppers, and the whipped creams, and the syllabubs!" andaway she tripped to the other end of the bay, lest the older Fairiesshould scold her for impertinence.

  "Certainly," pursued Euphrosyne, "I have a great contempt for richesmyself. Bah! the idea of all the troublesome as well as wicked thingsmen do in order that they may be able to keep a lumbering thing theycall a carriage, to drive them round a dirty town. Just think of thatone thing alone! It is hardly credible." And Euphrosyne laid her headby the side of Leila's, and looked up into the deep blue sky.

  "Remember," said Ambrosia, from behind, "it is a choice with poormortals between heavy foot-walking, and the lumbering vehicles youtalk of. Perhaps when their legs ache terribly, the carriages are notsuch bad things. We can hardly judge dispassionately in such a matter,we who can float and fly!" and the delicate Ambrosia, springing up,floated softly round the bay, and then returned smiling to hercompanions. "It made me almost ill to think of aching legs," observedshe, "how I do pity the mortal race!"

  "How pretty you looked as the sun shone golden upon your white robe,"exclaimed Leila, "It was a sight for a mortal painter to die of!"

  "A genius for painting would be a grand Fairy gift," observed Ianthe.

  "Too doubtful of success," answered Euphrosyne, "and the Musician'spower the same; besides musicians always die young and with exhaustedminds. The art is too much for mortal nerves."

  "Their atmosphere is too thick," said Leila. "How tired I am of yourdiscussions! Let us sing! Whatever music may be to them, it is food tous."

  Then all those beautiful Fairies arose and joining hands on the rocksthey sang to the now dying Sun a chorus of Fairy Land! Now and thenthese ravishing melodies are permitted to reach to mortal ears:chiefly in dreams to the sick and sorrowful, for Fairies have greatcompassion on such, and allow them a distant taste of this, the mostexquisite of their enjoyments.

  There was no more discussion that night, nor did they argue much thenext morning. There was the rising sun to welcome from the sleepingcaves on the eastern side of their country, and the bath to beenjoyed, and their wings to plume, and sweet odours to gather from theearly flowers; and the time passed so quickly, they only met to take ahurried leave. "We must understand each other however, before weseparate," said Euphrosyne.

  "Dear Ianthe, your Gift is Beauty?" "It is." "And mine is Riches,"said Euphrosyne. "All the pleasures of life shall be at my Godchild'sfeet," said another Fairy, laughing. "If that will not ensurehappiness, I know not what will." Ambrosia held back--"Your choice,dear Sister?" asked Euphrosyne.

  "Come! we have no time to lose."

  "It must remain a secret," was the reply. "Our discourse yesterdayevening was so thoughtful, so sad, I could not sleep. I arose hoursbefore you this morning, ere daylight streaked the sky. Dear Sisters,how shocked you will be to hear I wept; but now I have determined. Ifmy gift succeed I will tell you all about it, or you shall guess ityourselves; for I now propose that our Fairy Gifts this year shall bea sort of experiment on human happiness. Let us from time to timevisit in company our young charges, and let the result--that is, whichof our Gifts is proved to confer the greatest amount of happiness, bewritten in the archives of our kingdom for the future benefit of themortal race."

  A murmur of approbation rose, sweet as the vibration of a harp-chordthrough the assembly.

  There was no time for enquiry about the other gifts: the travellingFairies arose and beat their gauzy wings upon the western breeze. Amelodious rushing was just audible; the distant murmurs of the earthlysea the most resemble that sweet dream of sound. In a few moments thedeparting sisters became invisible, and those who remained returned tofloat by the sea shore, or make sweet music in the bowers of theirenchanted land.

  * * * * *

  Time is a very odd sort of thing, dear readers. We neither know whenceit comes nor whither it goes;--nay we know nothing about it in factexcept that there is one little moment of it called the present, whichwe have as it were in our hands to make use of--but beyond this we cangive no account of, even that little moment. It is ours to use, butnot to understand. There is one thing in the world, however, quite aswonderful, and quite as common, and that is, _the Wind_. Did it neverstrike you how strange it was that the strongest thing in the worldshould be _invisible_? The nice breezes we feel in summer and theroughest blasts we feel in winter in England are not so extremelystrong you will say: but I am speaking, besides these, of the windscalled hurricanes that arise in the West Indian Islands, and in otherplaces in the world. These dreadful hurricanes have at times done asmuch mischief as earthquakes and lightning. They tear down thestrongest trees, overthrow the firmest houses and spread ruin anddesolation around, and yet this terrible power, so tremendous, andagainst which the cleverest contrivances can provide no defence, is asinvisible as the great Maker of Heaven and Earth. How unbelieving manypeople would look if you told them of a dreadful creature that wascoming to the world, which could be heard to roar, be felt to knockdown every thing in its path--men, women and children, houses,churches, towers, castles, cities, and trees the most firmlyrooted--and yet which you could never catch the faintest glimpse of,for it was always invisible, even when it roared the loudest! Asinvisible then, as when in its mildest moods, it, as it were, purredsoftly over the country like a cat. How the good people would laugh,and tell you you were very silly to believe in such a thing. Yet Ithink this is not at all an incorrect description of the greatinvisible Power WIND. Now the lesson we may learn from this is to behumble-minded; for since we live in the constant presence of a Powerwe cannot see, we ought to feel it is equally possible other Powersmay exist of which our other senses cannot take cognizance. There isan old proverb--"Seeing is believing"--but you perceive, dear readers,we are forced to believe in the wind though we never see him at all.

  To return to Time who is travelling fast on while I am rambling afterthe wind, he has puzzled the artists a good deal I should say, forwith all their skill at representation they have never hit upon anybetter idea of him than an old Man with wings. An old man with wings!Can you fancy anything so unnatural! One can quite understandbeautiful young Angels with wings. Youth and power and swiftnessbelong to them. Also Fairies with wings are quite comprehensiblecreatures; for one fancies them so light and airy and transparent,living upon honey dew and ambrosia, that wings wherewith to fly seemtheir natural appendages. But the decrepitude of old age and the wingsof youth and power are a strange mixture:--a bald head, and a Fairy'sswiftness!--how ridiculous it seems, and so I think I may well sayTime is a very odd sort of thing.

  Among those who have to deal with Time, few are more puzzled how tomanage him than we story-tellers. In my first chapter, for instance, Igave you a half-hour's conversation among some Fairies, but I thinkyou would be very angry with me were I to give you as exactly everyhalf-hour that passed over the heads of the little girls with FairyGodmothers, till they grew up. How you would scold, dear littlereaders, if I were to enter into a particular description of eachchild's Nurse, and tell whether Miss Aurora, Miss Julia, MissHermione, &c. &c. &c. were brought up on baked flour, groat-gruel,rusks, tops and bottoms, or revalenta food! Whether they took morecastor-oil, or rhubarb and magnesia; whether they squalled on thoseoccasions or were very good. When they cut their teeth and how,together with all the &c. and ups and downs of Nursery life whichlarge families, such as you and I belong to, go through daily.

  Well then, suppose I altogether pass over a per
iod of ten years, andenter into no minute particulars respecting that portion of Time. Youmust know that the Fairies had agreed that all the children shouldhave the same (and rather a large) amount of intellect, or what youwould call cleverness: that is to say, they were all equally capableof learning anything they chose to learn: also they had all fairhealth, plenty to eat and drink, and all the so called "necessary"comforts of life.

  Now then to our story.

  At the end of ten years the Fairies agreed to go and have a peep howtheir charges were going on. They quite knew that nothing decisivecould be found out, till the children had come to years of discretionand were their own mistresses. Still they thought it would amuse themjust to go and see how the charms were working, as