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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Grey Brethren, by Michael Fairless,
+Edited by Mary Emily Dowson
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions 
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at 
+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Grey Brethren
+       and other Fragments in Prose and Verse
+
+
+Author: Michael Fairless
+
+Editor: Mary Emily Dowson
+
+Release Date: August 4, 2019  [eBook #835]
+[This file was first posted on March 2, 1997]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREY BRETHREN***
+
+
+Transcribed from the 1911 Duckworth and Co. edition by David Price, email
+ccx074@pglaf.org
+
+                          [Picture: Book cover]
+
+
+
+
+
+                            The Grey Brethren
+
+
+                       And Other Fragments in Prose
+                                and Verse
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                    By
+
+                             Michael Fairless
+
+                                Author of
+                             ‘The Roadmender’
+
+                      [Picture: Decorative graphic]
+
+                                  London
+                            Duckworth and Co.
+                         3 Henrietta Street, W.C.
+                                   1911
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                            _Third Impression_
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                          _All rights reserved_
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+Prefatory Note
+
+
+THERE is need to ask indulgence for this little book, because at first
+sight it seems to possess no other unity than that of type and cover.
+The root of its unity lies deeper, deeper even than any of subject or of
+method; it lies in the personal gift, the communication of heart to
+heart, which is the secret of charm in all the author’s work.  For this
+reason its publication is justified.
+
+The papers, poems, and stories it contains have, with two exceptions,
+appeared elsewhere, most of them in ‘The Pilot,’ where the Roadmender
+found his first welcome and his literary home.
+
+The fairy-tales were told by word of mouth to one child and another of
+widely differing ages; and three of them were afterwards published in
+‘The Parents’ Review.’  ‘The Grey Brethren’ is from ‘The Commonwealth.’
+The Christmas papers and poems were brought out as a booklet by Messrs
+Mowbray & Son.
+
+The author’s characteristic quality is best displayed in these last, and
+in ‘The Grey Brethren,’ but there will be interest for many readers in
+the rest of the book as well.  That which afterwards became a firm
+artistic touch is seen in its uncertain beginning in ‘By Rivers and
+Streams’; and the delightful headlong humour of ‘The Dreadful Griffin’
+(invented for the “boy named Cecco Hewlett,” of whom Mr Barrie speaks in
+his ‘Little White Bird’) will shew Michael Fairless in a new light to
+those who have known her only in her books.
+
+Some of the many readers who have found her there will understand me when
+I say that the story of her life and death, and of her life too (as I
+believe) after death, is written down in the little tale of ‘The
+Tinkle-Tinkle,’ first told to her best beloved in the wild garden at Kew,
+among blue hyacinths and shining grasses of the spring that spoke to her
+of Paradise.
+
+                                                                  M. E. D.
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+                                        PAGE
+PREFATORY NOTE                             v
+THE GREY BRETHREN                          1
+A SONG OF LOW DEGREE                      13
+A GERMAN CHRISTMAS EVE                    15
+A CHRISTMAS IDYLL                         27
+THE MANIFESTATION                         43
+ALL SOULS’ DAY IN A GERMAN TOWN           52
+BY RIVERS AND STREAMS                     55
+SPRING                                    68
+A LARK’S SONG                             72
+‘LUVLY MISS’                              75
+FOUR STORIES TOLD TO CHILDREN
+  THE DREADFUL GRIFFIN                    85
+  THE DISCONTENTED DAFFODILS             103
+  THE FAIRY FLUFFIKINS                   128
+  THE STORY OF THE TINKLE-TINKLE         138
+
+
+
+
+The Grey Brethren
+
+
+SOME of the happiest remembrances of my childhood are of days spent in a
+little Quaker colony on a high hill.
+
+The walk was in itself a preparation, for the hill was long and steep and
+at the mercy of the north-east wind; but at the top, sheltered by a copse
+and a few tall trees, stood a small house, reached by a flagged pathway
+skirting one side of a bright trim garden.
+
+I, with my seven summers of lonely, delicate childhood, felt, when I
+gently closed the gate behind me, that I shut myself into Peace.  The
+house was always somewhat dark, and there were no domestic sounds.  The
+two old ladies, sisters, both born in the last century, sat in the cool,
+dim parlour, netting or sewing.  Rebecca was small, with a nut-cracker
+nose and chin; Mary, tall and dignified, needed no velvet under the net
+cap.  I can feel now the touch of the cool dove-coloured silk against my
+cheek, as I sat on the floor, watching the nimble fingers with the
+shuttle, and listened as Mary read aloud a letter received that morning,
+describing a meeting of the faithful and the ‘moving of the Spirit’ among
+them.  I had a mental picture of the ‘Holy Heavenly Dove,’ with its wings
+of silvery grey, hovering over my dear old ladies; and I doubt not my
+vision was a true one.
+
+Once as I watched Benjamin, the old gardener—a most ‘stiff-backed Friend’
+despite his stoop and his seventy years—putting scarlet geraniums and
+yellow fever-few in the centre bed, I asked, awe-struck, whether such
+glowing colours were approved; and Rebecca smiled and said—“Child, dost
+thee not think the Lord may have His glories?” and I looked from the
+living robe of scarlet and gold to the dove-coloured gown, and said:
+“Would it be pride in thee to wear His glories?” and Mary answered for
+her—“The change is not yet; better beseems us the ornament of a meek and
+quiet spirit.”
+
+The ‘change from glory to glory’ has come to them both long since, but it
+seems to me as if their robes must still be Quaker-grey.
+
+Upstairs was the invalid daughter and niece.  For years she had been
+compelled to lie on her face; and in that position she had done wonderful
+drawings of the High Priest, the Ark of the Covenant, and other Levitical
+figures.  She had a cageful of tame canary-birds which answered to their
+names and fed from her plate at meal-times.  Of these I remember only
+Roger, a gorgeous fellow with a beautiful voice and strong will of his
+own, who would occasionally defy his mistress from the secure fastness of
+a high picture-frame, but always surrendered at last, and came to listen
+to his lecture with drooping wings.
+
+A city of Peace, this little house, for the same severely-gentle decorum
+reigned in the kitchen as elsewhere: and now, where is such a haunt to be
+found?
+
+In the earlier part of this century the Friends bore a most important
+witness.  They were a standing rebuke to rough manners, rude speech, and
+to the too often mere outward show of religion.  No one could fail to be
+impressed by the atmosphere of peace suggested by their bearing and
+presence; and the gentle, sheltered, contemplative lives lived by most of
+them undoubtedly made them unusually responsive to spiritual influence.
+Now, the young birds have left the parent nest and the sober plumage and
+soft speech; they are as other men; and in a few short years the word
+Quaker will sound as strange in our ears as the older appellation Shaker
+does now.
+
+This year I read for the first time the Journal of George Fox.  It is
+hard to link the rude, turbulent son of Amos with the denizens in my city
+of Peace; but he had his work to do and did it, letting breezy truths
+into the stuffy ‘steeple-houses’ of the ‘lumps of clay.’
+
+“Come out from among them and be ye separate; touch not the accursed
+thing!” he thundered; and out they came, obedient to his stentorian
+mandate; but alack, how many treasures in earthen vessels did they
+overlook in their terror of the curse!  The good people made such haste
+to flee the city, that they imagined themselves as having already, in the
+spirit, reached the land that is very far off; and so they cast from them
+the outward and visible signs which are vehicles, in this material world,
+of inward graces.  Measureless are the uncovenanted blessings of God; and
+to these the Friends have ever borne a witness of power; but now the
+Calvinist intruder no longer divides the sheep from the goats in our
+churches; now the doctrine of universal brotherhood and the respect due
+to all men are taught much more effectively than when George Fox refused
+to doff his hat to the Justice; the quaint old speech has lost its
+significance, the dress would imply all the vainglory that the wearer
+desires to avoid; the young Quakers of this generation are no longer
+‘disciplined’ in matters of the common social life; yet still they remain
+separate.
+
+We of the outward and visible covenant need them, with their inherited
+mysticism, ordered contemplation, and spiritual vision; we need them for
+ourselves.  The mother they have left yearns for them, and with all her
+faults—faults the greater for their absence—and with the blinded eyes of
+their recognition, she is their mother still.  “_What advantage then hath
+the Jew_?” asked St Paul, and answered in the same breath—“_Much every
+way_, _chiefly because that unto them were committed the oracles of
+God_.”  What advantage then has the Churchman? is the oft repeated
+question today; and the answer is still the answer of St Paul.
+
+The Incarnation is the sum of all the Sacraments, the crown of the
+material revelation of God to man, the greatest of outward and visible
+signs, “_that which we have heard_, _which we have seen with our eyes_,
+_which we have looked upon and our hands have handled of the word of
+life_.”  A strange beginning truly, to usher in a purely spiritual
+dispensation; but beautifully fulfilled in the taking up of the earthly
+into the heavenly—Bread and Wine, the natural fruits of the earth,
+sanctified by man’s toil, a sufficiency for his needs; and instinct with
+Divine life through the operation of the Holy Ghost.
+
+    “_In the sweat of thy face thou shalt eat bread_.”
+
+    “_Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood ye
+    have no life in you_.”
+
+    “_And the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations_.”
+
+From Genesis to the Revelation of the Divine reaches the rainbow of the
+Sacramental system—outward and visible signs of inward and spiritual
+grace:—
+
+The sacrament of purging, purifying labour, to balance and control the
+knowledge of good and evil:—
+
+The sacrament of life, divine life, with the outward body of humiliation,
+bread and wine, fruit of the accursed ground, but useless without man’s
+labour; and St Paul, caught up into the third heaven, and St John, with
+his wide-eyed vision of the Lamb, must eat this bread and drink this cup
+if they would live:—
+
+The sacrament of healing, the restoring of the Image of God in fallen
+man.
+
+The Church is one society, nay, the world is one society, for man without
+his fellow-men is not; and into the society, both of the Church and the
+world, are inextricably woven the most social sacraments.
+
+Herein is great purpose, we say, bending the knee; and with deep
+consciousness of sins and shortcomings we stretch out longing welcoming
+hands to our grey brethren with their inheritance of faithfulness and
+steadfastness under persecution, and their many gifts and graces; and we
+cry, in the words of the Song of Songs which is Solomon’s: “O my dove,
+that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs,
+let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy
+voice, and thy countenance is comely.”  “Rise up, my love, my fair one,
+and come away.  For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone.”
+
+
+
+
+A Song of Low Degree
+
+
+   LORD, I am small, and yet so great,
+   The whole world stands to my estate,
+   And in Thine Image I create.
+   The sea is mine; and the broad sky
+   Is mine in its immensity:
+   The river and the river’s gold;
+   The earth’s hid treasures manifold;
+   The love of creatures small and great,
+   Save where I reap a precious hate;
+   The noon-tide sun with hot caress,
+   The night with quiet loneliness;
+   The wind that bends the pliant trees,
+   The whisper of the summer breeze;
+   The kiss of snow and rain; the star
+   That shines a greeting from afar;
+   All, all are mine; and yet so small
+   Am I, that lo, I needs must call,
+   Great King, upon the Babe in Thee,
+   And crave that Thou would’st give to me
+   The grace of Thy humility.
+
+
+
+
+A German Christmas Eve
+
+
+IT was intensely cold; Father Rhine was frozen over, so he may speak for
+it; and for days we had lived to the merry jangle and clang of
+innumerable sleigh bells, in a white and frost-bound world.  As I passed
+through the streets, crowded with stolidly admiring peasants from the
+villages round, I caught the dear remembered ‘Grüss Gott!’ and ‘All’
+Heil!’ of the countryside, which town life quickly stamps out along with
+many other gentle observances.
+
+“Gelobt sei Jesu Christ!” cried little Sister Hilarius, coming on me
+suddenly at a corner, her round face aglow with the sharp air, her arms
+filled with queer-shaped bundles.  She begs for her sick poor as she goes
+along—meat here, some bread there, a bottle of good red wine: I fancy few
+refuse her.  She nursed me once, the good little sister, with unceasing
+care and devotion, and all the dignity of a scant five feet.  “Ach, Du
+lieber Gott, such gifts!” she added, with a radiant smile, and vanished
+up a dirty stairway.
+
+In the Quergasse a jay fell dead at my feet—one of the many birds which
+perished thus—he had flown townwards too late.  Up at the Jagdschloss the
+wild creatures, crying a common truce of hunger, trooped each day to the
+clearing by the Jäger’s cottage for the food spread for them.  The great
+tusked boar of the Taunus with his brother of Westphalia, the timid roe
+deer with her scarcely braver mate, foxes, hares, rabbits, feathered
+game, and tiny songbirds of the woods, gathered fearlessly together and
+fed at the hand of their common enemy—a millennial banquet truly.
+
+The market-place was crowded, and there were Christmas trees everywhere,
+crying aloud in bushy nakedness for their rightful fruit.  The old
+peasant women, rolled in shawls, with large handkerchiefs tied over their
+caps, warmed their numb and withered hands over little braziers while
+they guarded the gaily decked treasure-laden booths, from whose
+pent-roofs Father Winter had hung a fringe of glittering icicles.
+
+Many of the stalls were entirely given over to Christmas-tree splendours.
+Long trails of gold and silver _Engelshaar_, piles of candles—red,
+yellow, blue, green, violet, and white—a rainbow of the Christian virtues
+and the Church’s Year; boxes of frost and snow, festoons of coloured
+beads, fishes with gleaming scales, glass-winged birds, Santa Klaus in
+frost-bedecked mantle and scarlet cap, angels with trumpets set to their
+waxen lips; and everywhere and above all the image of the Holy Child.
+Sometimes it was the tiny waxen Bambino, in its pathetic helplessness;
+sometimes the Babe Miraculous, standing with outstretched arms awaiting
+the world’s embrace—Mary’s Son, held up in loving hands to bless; or the
+Heavenly Child-King with crown and lily sceptre, borne high by Joseph,
+that gentle, faithful servitor.  It was the festival of Bethlehem, feast
+of never-ending keeping, which has its crowning splendour on Christmas
+Day.
+
+A Sister passed with a fat, rosy little girl in either hand; they were
+chattering merrily of the gift they were to buy for the dear Christkind,
+the gift which Sister said He would send some ragged child to receive for
+Him.  They came back to the poor booth close to where I was standing.  It
+was piled with warm garments; and after much consultation a little white
+vest was chosen—the elder child rejected pink, she knew the Christkind
+would like white best—then they trotted off down a narrow turning to the
+church, and I followed.
+
+The Crêche stood without the chancel, between the High Altar and that of
+Our Lady of Sorrows.  It was very simple.  A blue paper background
+spangled with stars; a roughly thatched roof supported on four rude
+posts; at the back, ox and ass lying among the straw with which the
+ground was strewn.  The figures were life-size, of carved and painted
+wood: Joseph, tall and dignified, stood as guardian, leaning on his
+staff; Mary knelt with hands slightly uplifted in loving adoration; and
+the Babe lay in front on a truss of straw disposed as a halo.  It was the
+World’s Child, and the position emphasised it.  Two or three
+hard-featured peasants knelt telling their beads; and a group of children
+with round, blue eyes and stiff, flaxen pigtails, had gathered in front,
+and were pointing and softly whispering.  My little friends trotted up,
+crossed themselves; it was evidently the little one’s first visit.
+
+“Guck! guck mal an,” she cried, clapping her fat gloved hands, “sieh mal
+an das Wickelkind!”
+
+“Dass ist unser Jesu,” said the elder, and the little one echoed “Unser
+Jesu, unser Jesu!”
+
+Then the vest was brought out and shown—why not, it was the Christchild’s
+own?—and the pair trotted away again followed by the bright, patient
+Sister.  Presently everyone clattered out, and I was left alone at the
+crib of Bethlehem, the gate of the Kingdom of Heaven.
+
+It was my family, my only family; but like the ever-widening circle on
+the surface of a lake into which a stone has been flung, here, from this
+great centre, spread the wonderful ever-widening relationship—the real
+brotherhood of the world.  It is at the Crib that everything has its
+beginning, not at the Cross; and it is only as little children that we
+can enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.
+
+When I went out again into the streets it was nearly dark.  Anxious
+mothers hurried past on late, mysterious errands; papas who were not
+wanted until the last moment chatted gaily to each other at street
+corners, and exchanged recollections; maidservants hastened from shop to
+shop with large baskets already heavily laden; and the children were
+everywhere, important with secrets, comfortably secure in the knowledge
+of a tree behind the parlour doors, and a kindly, generous Saint who knew
+all their wants, and needed no rod _this_ year.
+
+One little lad, with a pinched white face, and with only an empty
+certainty to look forward to, was singing shrilly in the sharp, still
+air, “Zu Bethlehem geboren, ist uns ein Kindelein,” as he gazed wistfully
+at a shop window piled high with crisp gingerbread, marzipan, chocolate
+under every guise, and tempting cakes.  A great rough peasant coming out,
+saw him, turned back, and a moment later thrust a gingerbread Santa
+Klaus, with currant eyes and sugar trimming to his coat and cap, into the
+half-fearful little hands.  “Hab’ ebenso ein Kerlchen zu Haus’,” he said
+to me apologetically as he passed.
+
+I waited to see Santa Klaus disappear; but no, the child looked at the
+cake, sighed deeply with the cruel effort of resistance, and refrained.
+It was all his Christmas and he would keep it.  He gazed and gazed, then
+a smile rippled across the wan little face and he broke out in another
+carol, “Es kam ein Engel hell und klar vom Himmel zu der Hirten Schaar,”
+and hugging his Santa Klaus carefully, wandered away down the now
+brilliant streets: he did not know he was hungry any more; the angel had
+come with good tidings.
+
+As I passed along the streets I could see through the uncurtained windows
+that in some houses Christmas had begun already for the little ones.
+Then the bells rang out deep-mouthed, carrying the call of the eager
+Church to her children, far up the valley and across the frozen river.
+And they answered; the great church was packed from end to end, and from
+my place by the door I saw that two tiny Christmas trees bright with
+coloured candles burnt either side of the Holy Child.
+
+A blue-black sky ablaze with stars for His glory, a fresh white robe for
+stained and tired earth; so we went to Bethlehem in the rare stillness of
+the early morning.  The Church, having no stars, had lighted candles; and
+we poor sinful men having no white robes of our own had craved them of
+the Great King at her hands.
+
+And so in the stillness, with tapers within and stars alight without,
+with a white-clad earth, and souls forgiven, the Christ Child came to
+those who looked for His appearing.
+
+
+
+
+A Christmas Idyll
+
+
+THE Child with the wondering eyes sat on the doorstep, on either side of
+her a tramp cat in process of becoming a recognised member of society.
+On the flagged path in front the brown brethren were picking up crumbs.
+The cats’ whiskers trembled, but they sat still, proudly virtuous, and
+conscious each of a large saucer of warm milk within.
+
+“What,” said the Child, “is a symbol?”
+
+The cats looked grave.
+
+The Child rose, went into the house, and returned with a well-thumbed
+brown book.  She turned the pages thoughtfully, and read aloud,
+presumably for the benefit of the cats: “In a symbol there is concealment
+yet revelation, the infinite is made to blend with the finite, to stand
+visible, and as it were attainable there.”  The Child sighed, “We had
+better go to the Recluse,” she said.  So the three went.
+
+It was a cold, clear, bright day, a typical Christmas Eve.  There was a
+carpet of crisp snow on the ground, and a fringe of icicles hung from
+every vantage-point.  The cats, not having been accustomed to the
+delights of domesticity, trotted along cheerfully despite the chill to
+their toes; and they soon came to the forest which all three knew very
+well indeed.  It was a beautiful forest like a great cathedral, with long
+aisles cut between the splendid upstanding pine trees.  The green-fringed
+boughs were heavy with snow, the straight strong stems caught and
+reflected the stray sun rays, and looking up through the arches and
+delicate tracery and interlaced branches the eye caught the wonderful
+blue of the great domed roof overhead.  The cats walked delicately,
+fearful of temptation in the way of rabbits or frost-tamed birds, and the
+Child lilted a quaint German hymn to a strange old tune:—
+
+    “Ein Kind gebor’n zu Bethlehem.
+                                                    Alleluja!
+    Dess freuet sich Jerusalem,
+                                                    Alleluja!  Alleluja!”
+
+The Recluse was sitting on a bench outside his cave.  He was dressed in a
+brown robe, his eyes were like stars wrapped in brown velvet, his face
+was strong and gentle, his hair white although he looked quite young.  He
+greeted the Child very kindly and stroked the cats.
+
+“You have come to ask me a question, Child?”
+
+“If you please,” said the Child, “what is a symbol?”
+
+“Ah,” said the Recluse, “I might have known you would ask me that.”
+
+“The Sage says,” went on the Child, “that it is concealment yet
+revelation.”
+
+The Recluse nodded.
+
+“Just as a mystery that we cannot understand is the greatest possible
+wisdom.  Go in and sit by my fire, Child; there are chestnuts on the
+hearth, and you will find milk in the brown jug.  I will show you a
+symbol presently.”
+
+The Child and the two cats went into the cave and sat down by the fire.
+It was warm and restful after the biting air.  The cats purred
+pleasantly, the Child sat with her chin in her hand watching the glowing
+wood burn red and white on the great hearthstone.
+
+“The Recluse generally answers my questions by showing me something I
+have seen for a long time but never beheld, or heard and never lent ear.
+I wonder what it will be this time,” she said to herself.
+
+The grateful warmth made the Child sleepy, and she gave a start when she
+found the Recluse standing by her with outstretched hand.
+
+“Come, dear Child,” he said; and leaving the sleeping cats she followed
+him, her hand in his.
+
+The air was full of wonderful sound, voices and song, and the cry of the
+bells.
+
+The Child wondered, and then remembered it was Christmas night.  The
+Recluse led her down a little passage and opened a door.  They stepped
+out together, but not into the forest.
+
+“This is the front door of my house,” said the Recluse, with a little
+smile.
+
+They stood on a white road, on one side a stretch of limestone down, on
+the other steep terraces with gardens and vineyard.  The air was soft and
+warm, and sweet with the breath of lilies.  The heaven was ablaze with
+stars; across the plain to the east the dawn was breaking.  A group of
+strangely-clad men went down the road followed by a flock of sheep.
+
+“Let us go with them,” said the Recluse; and hand in hand they went.
+
+The road curved to the right; round the bend, cut in the living rock, was
+a cave; the shepherds stopped and knelt, and there was no sound but the
+soft rapid breathing of the flock.  Then the Child was filled with an
+overmastering longing, a desire so great that the tears sprang hot to her
+eyes.  She dropped the Recluse’s hand and went forward where the
+shepherds knelt.  Once again the air was full of wonderful sound, voices
+and song, and the cry of the bells; but within all was silence.  The cave
+was rough-hewn, and stabled an ox and an ass; close to the front a tall
+strong man leaning on a staff kept watch and ward; within knelt a peasant
+Maid, and on a heap of yellow straw lay a tiny new-born Babe loosely
+wrapped in a linen cloth: around and above were wonderful figures of fire
+and mist.
+
+The infinite, visible and attainable.
+
+The mystery which is the greatest possible wisdom.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+“Come, Child,” said the Recluse.
+
+The fire had burnt low; it was quite dark, save for the glow of the live
+embers.
+
+He threw on a great dry pine log; it flared like a torch.  The cats’
+stretched in the sudden blaze, and then settled to sleep again.  The
+Child and the Recluse passed out into the forest.  The moon was very
+bright and the snow reflected its rays, so that it was light in spite of
+the great trees.  The air was full of wonderful sound, voices and song,
+and the cry of the bells; and the Child sang as she went in a half-dream
+by the side of the Recluse:—
+
+    “In dieser heil’gen Weihnachtszeit,
+                                                    Alleluja!
+    Sei, Gott der Herr, gebenedeit,
+                                                    Alleluja! Alleluja!”
+
+and wondered when she would wake up.  They came to the old, old church in
+the forest, and the pictured saints looked out at them from the lighted
+window; through the open door they could see figures moving about with
+tapers in their hands; save for these the church was still empty.
+
+The Recluse led the way up the nave to the north side of the Altar.  The
+Child started a little; she was really dreaming then a kind of circular
+dream, for again she stood before the cave, again the reverend figure
+kept watch and ward over the kneeling Maid and the little Babe.  The
+sheep and the shepherds were not there, but a little lamb had strayed in;
+and the wonderful figures of fire and mist—they were there in their
+place.
+
+“Little one,” said the Recluse softly, “here is a symbol—concealment yet
+revelation—the King as servant—the strong helpless—the Almighty a little
+child; and thus the infinite stands revealed for all of us, visible and
+attainable, if we will have it so.  It is the centre of all mystery, the
+greatest possible wisdom, the Eternal Child.”
+
+“You showed it me before,” said the Child, “only we were out of doors,
+and the shepherds were there with the sheep; but the angels are here just
+the same.”
+
+The Recluse bowed his head.
+
+“Wait for me here with them, dear Child, I will fetch you after service.”
+
+The church began to fill; old men in smock frocks and tall hats, little
+children wrapped warm against the cold, lads, shining and spruce, old
+women in crossed shawls and wonderful bonnets.  The service was not very
+long; then the Recluse went up into the old grey stone pulpit.  The
+villagers settled to listen—he did not often preach.
+
+“My brothers and sisters, to-night we keep the Birth of the Holy Babe,
+and to-night you and I stand at the gate of the Kingdom of Heaven, the
+gate which is undone only at the cry of a little child.  ‘Except ye be
+converted and become as little children, ye shall not enter.’
+
+“The Kingdom is a great one, nay, a limitless one; and many enter in
+calling it by another name.  It includes your own hearts and this
+wonderful forest, all the wise and beautiful works that men have ever
+thought of or done, and your daily toil; it includes your nearest and
+dearest, the outcast, the prisoner, and the stranger; it holds your
+cottage home and the jewelled City, the New Jerusalem itself.  People are
+apt to think the Kingdom of Heaven is like church on Sunday, a place to
+enter once a week in one’s best: whereas it holds every flower, and has
+room for the ox and the ass, and the least of all creatures, as well as
+for our prayer and worship and praise.
+
+“‘Except ye become as little children.’  How are we to be born again,
+simple children with wondering eyes?
+
+“We must learn to lie in helpless dependence, to open our mouth wide that
+it may be filled, to speak with halting tongue the language we think we
+know; we must learn above all our own ignorance, and keep alight and
+cherish the flame of innocency in our hearts.
+
+“It is a tired world, my brethren, and we are most of us tired men and
+women who live on it, for we seek ever after some new thing.  Let us pass
+out through the gate into the Kingdom of Heaven and not be tired any
+more, because there we shall find the new thing that we seek.  Heaven is
+on earth, the Kingdom is here and now; the gate stands wide to-night, for
+it is the birthright of the Eternal Child.  We are none of us too poor,
+or stupid, or lowly; it was the simple shepherds who saw Him first.  We
+are none of us too great, or learned, or rich; it was the three wise
+kings who came next and offered gifts.  We are none of us too young; it
+was little children who first laid down their lives for Him; or too old,
+for Simeon saw and recognised Him.  There is only one thing against most
+of us—we are too proud.
+
+“My brethren, ‘let us now go even to Bethlehem, and face this thing which
+is come to pass, which the LORD hath made known unto us.’”
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+The lights were out in the church when the Recluse came to fetch the
+Child.  She was still kneeling by the crêche, keeping watch with the
+wonderful figures of fire and mist.
+
+“Was _this_ a dream or the other?” said the Child.
+
+“Neither,” said the Recluse, and he blessed her in the moonlit dark.
+
+The air was full of wonderful sound, voices and song, and the cry of the
+bells.
+
+
+
+
+The Manifestation
+
+
+   GOD said; “Let there be light”; and in the East
+   A star rose flaming from night’s purple sea—
+   The star of Truth, the star of Joy, the star
+   Seen by the prophets down the lonely years;
+   Set for a light to show the Perfect Way;
+   Set for a sign that wayfarers might find;
+   Set for a seal to mark the Godhead’s home.
+   And three Kings in their palaces afar,
+   Who waited ardently for promised things,
+   Beheld, and read aright.  Straightway the road
+   Was hot with pad of camel, horse’s hoof,
+   While night was quick as day with spurring men
+   And light with flaring torch.  “Haste, haste!” they cried,
+   “We seek the King, the King! for in the East
+   His star’s alight.”
+
+
+
+BETHLEHEM
+
+
+                               _The Angels_
+
+   Soft and slow, soft and slow,
+   With angels’ wings of fire and snow,
+   To rock Him gently to and fro.
+   Fire to stay the chill at night,
+   Snow to cool the noonday bright;
+   And overhead His star’s alight.
+
+   Pale and sweet, pale and sweet,
+   Maid Mary keeps her vigil meet,
+   While Joseph waits with patient feet.
+   Mary’s love for soft embrace,
+   Joseph’s strength to guard the place.
+   Lo! from the East Kings ride apace.
+
+   Gold and myrrh, gold and myrrh,
+   Frankincense for harbinger,
+   Myrrh to make His sepulchre.
+   Roses white and roses red,
+   Thorns arrayed for His dear Head.
+   Hail! hail! Wise Men who seek His bed
+
+                                 _Joseph_
+
+   Little One, Little One, Saviour and Child,
+      Father and Mother, my Husband and Son;
+   Born of the lily, the maid undefiled,
+      Babe of my Love, the Beatified One.
+
+   Little One, Little One, Master and LORD,
+      Kings of the Earth come, desiring Thy Face;
+   I, Thy poor servitor, lowly afford
+      All that my life holds, for all is Thy Grace.
+
+   Little One, Little One, GOD over all,
+      Earth is thy footstool, and Heav’n is Thy throne:
+   Joseph the carpenter, prostrate I fall;
+      Praise thee, adore Thee, and claim Thee mine own.
+
+                               _Maid Mary_
+
+               Babe, dear Babe!
+   Mine own, mine own, my heart’s delight,
+   The myrrh between my breasts at night,
+   My little Rose, my Lily white,
+   My Babe for whom the star’s alight.
+
+               Babe, dear Babe!
+   Mine own, mine own, GOD’S only SON,
+   Foretold, foreseen, since earth begun;
+   Desire of nations, Promised One
+   When Eve was first by sin undone.
+
+               Babe, dear Babe!
+   Mine own, mine own, the whole world’s Child!
+   Born of each heart that’s undefiled,
+   Nursed at the breast of Mercy mild,
+   And in the arms of Love asiled.
+
+               Babe, dear Babe!
+   My crown of glory, sorrow’s sword,
+   My Maker, King, Redeemer, Lord,
+   My Saviour and my great Reward;
+   My little Son, my Babe adored.
+
+                            _The Three Kings_
+
+   Hail!  Hail thou wondrous little King!
+               To Thy dear Feet
+               Our offerings meet
+   With bended knee we bring;
+               O mighty baby King,
+               Accept the offering.
+
+                               _First King_
+
+               LORD, I stoop low
+               My head of snow,
+   Thus I, the great, hail Thee, the Least!
+   And swing the censer for the Priest,
+   The Priest with hands upraised to bless,
+   The Priest of this world’s bitterness.
+               As I stoop low
+               My head of snow,
+   Bless me, O Priest, before I go.
+
+                              _Second King_
+
+               Behold me, King!
+               A man of might,
+               Who rules dominions infinite;
+   Strong in the harvest of the years,
+   And one who counts no kings as peers.
+               O little King,
+               Behold my crown!
+               I lay it down,
+   And bow before Thy lowly bed
+   My all unworthy uncrowned head,
+   For I am naught and Thou art All.
+   And Thou shalt climb a throne set high,
+   Between sad earth and silent sky,
+   Thereon to agonize and die;
+   And at Thy Feet the world shall fall.
+               Stretch out Thy little Hands, O King,
+               Behold the world’s imagining!
+
+                               _Third King_
+
+   Out of the shadow of the night
+   I come, led by the starshine bright,
+   With broken heart to bring to Thee
+   The fruit of Thine Epiphany,
+   The gift my fellows send by me,
+   The myrrh to bed Thine agony.
+   I set it here beneath Thy Feet,
+   In token of Death’s great defeat;
+   And hail Thee Conqueror in the strife;
+   And hail Thee Lord of Light and Life.
+               All hail!  All hail the Virgin’s Son!
+               All hail!  Thou little helpless One!
+               All hail!  Thou King upon the Tree!
+               All hail!  The Babe on Mary’s knee,
+                  The centre of all mystery!
+
+
+
+
+All Souls’ Day in a German Town
+
+
+   THE leaves fall softly: a wind of sighs
+   Whispers the world’s infirmities,
+   Whispers the tale of the waning years,
+   While slow mists gather in shrouding tears
+   On All Souls’ Day; and the bells are slow
+   In steeple and tower.  Sad folk go
+   Away from the township, past the mill,
+   And mount the slope of a grassy hill
+   Carved into terraces broad and steep,
+   To the inn where wearied travellers sleep,
+   Where the sleepers lie in ordered rows,
+   And no man stirs in his long repose.
+   They wend their way past the haunts of life,
+   Father and daughter, grandmother, wife,
+   To deck with candle and deathless cross,
+   The house which holds their dearest loss.
+   I, who stand on the crest of the hill,
+   Watch how beneath me, busied still,
+   The sad folk wreathe each grave with flowers.
+   Awhile the veil of the twilight hours
+   Falls softly, softly, over the hill,
+   Shadows the cross:—creeps on until
+   Swiftly upon us is flung the dark.
+   Then, as if lit by a sudden spark,
+   Each grave is vivid with points of light,
+   Earth is as Heaven’s mirror to-night;
+   The air is still as a spirit’s breath,
+   The lights burn bright in the realm of Death.
+   Then silent the mourners mourning go,
+   Wending their way to the church below;
+   While the bells toll out to bid them speed,
+   With eager Pater and prayerful bead,
+   The souls of the dead, whose bodies still
+   Lie in the churchyard under the hill;
+   While they wait and wonder in Paradise,
+   And gaze on the dawning mysteries,
+   Praying for us in our hours of need;
+   For us, who with Pater and prayerful bead
+   Have bidden those waiting spirits speed.
+
+
+
+
+Rivers and Streams
+
+
+RUNNING water has a charm all its own; it proffers companionship of which
+one never tires; it adapts itself to moods; it is the guardian of
+secrets.  It has cool draughts for the thirsty soul as well as for
+drooping flowers; and they who wander in the garden of God with listening
+ears learn of its many voices.
+
+When the strain of a working day has left me weary, perhaps troubled and
+perplexed, I find my way to the river.  I step into a boat and pull up
+stream until the exertion has refreshed me; and then I make fast to the
+old alder-stump where last year the reed-piper nested, and lie back in
+the stern and think.
+
+The water laps against the keel as the boat rocks gently in the current;
+the river flows past, strong and quiet.  There are side eddies, of
+course, and little disturbing whirlpools near the big stones, but they
+are all gathered into the broad sweep of the stream, carried down to the
+great catholic sea.  And while I listen to the murmur of the water and
+watch its quiet strength the day’s wrinkles are smoothed out of my face;
+and at last the river bears me homeward rested and at peace.
+
+There are long stretches of time for me when I must remain apart from the
+world of work, often unwilling, sometimes with a very sore heart.  Then I
+turn my steps towards my friend and wander along the banks, a solitary
+not alone.  In the quiet evening light I watch the stream ‘never hasting,
+never resting’: the grass that grows beside it is always green, the
+flowers are fresh; it makes long embracing curves—I could cross from
+point to point in a minute, but to follow takes five.  The ways of the
+water are ways of healing; I have a companion who makes no mistakes,
+touches none of my tender spots.
+
+Presently I reach the silent pool, where the stream takes a wide sweep.
+Here the fair white water-lilies lie on their broad green leaves and wait
+for their lover the moon; for then they open their silvery leaves and
+bloom in the soft light fairer far than beneath the hot rays of the sun.
+Then, too, the buds rise out of the water and the moon kisses them into
+bloom and fragrance.  Near by are the little yellow water-lilies, set for
+beauty against a background of great blue-eyed forget-me-nots and tall
+feathery meadowsweet.  The river still sweeps on its way, but the pool is
+undisturbed; it lies out of the current.  They say it is very deep—no one
+knows quite how deep—and it has its hidden tragedy.  I gaze down through
+the clear water, following the thick lily-stalks—a forest where solemn
+carp sail in and out and perch chase each other through the maze—and
+beyond them I cannot see the bottom, the secret of its stillness; but I
+may watch the clouds mirrored on its surface, and the evening glow lying
+at my feet.
+
+I think of the fathomless depths of the peace of God, fair with flowers
+of hope; of still places wrought in man; of mirrors that reflect, in
+light uncomprehended, the Image of the Holy Face.
+
+I go home across the common, comforted, towards the little town where the
+red roofs lie glimmering in the evening shadows, and the old grey church
+stands out clear and distinct against the fading sky.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+One of the happiest memories of my childhood is the little brook in the
+home field.  I know it was not a very clean little brook—it passed
+through an industrious manufacturing world—but to me then this mattered
+not at all.
+
+Where it had its source I never found out; it came from a little cave in
+the side of the hill, and I remember that one of its banks was always
+higher than the other.  I once sought to penetrate the cave, but with sad
+results in the shape of bed before dinner and no pudding, such small
+sympathy have one’s elders with the spirit of research.  Just beyond the
+cave the brook was quite a respectable width,—even my big boy cousin fell
+into mud and disgrace when he tried to jump it—and there was a gravelly
+beach, at least several inches square, where we launched our boats of
+hollowed elder-wood.  Soon, however, it narrowed, it could even be
+stepped over; but it was still exciting and delightful, with two perilous
+rapids over which the boats had to be guided, and many boulders—for the
+brook was a brave stream, and had fashioned its bed in rocky soil.
+Further down was our bridge, one flat stone dragged thither by really
+herculean efforts.  It was unnecessary, but a triumph.  A little below
+this outcome of our engineering skill the brook widened again before
+disappearing under a flagged tunnel into the neighbouring field.  Here,
+in the shallows, we built an aquarium.  It was not altogether successful,
+because whenever it rained at all hard the beasts were washed out; but
+there was always joy in restocking it.  Under one of the banks close by
+lived a fat frog for whom I felt great respect.  We used to sit and gaze
+at each other in silent intercourse, until he became bored—I think I
+never did—and flopped into the water with a splash.
+
+But it was the brook itself that was my chief and dearest companion.  It
+chattered and sang to me, and told me of the goblins who lived under the
+hill, of fairies dancing on the grass on moonlight nights, and scolding
+the pale lilac milk-maids on the banks; and of a sad little old man
+dressed in brown, always sad because his dear water-children ran away
+from him when they heard the voice of the great river telling them of the
+calling of the sea.
+
+It spoke to me of other more wonderful things, not even now to be put
+into words, things of the mysteries of a child’s imagination; and these
+linger still in my life, and will linger, I think, until they are
+fulfilled.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+I have another friend—a Devonshire stream.  I found it in spring when the
+fields along its banks were golden with Lent-lilies.  I do not even know
+its name; it has its source up among the old grey tors, and doubtless in
+its beginning had a hard fight for existence.  When it reaches the plain
+it is a good-sized stream, although nowhere navigable.  I do not think it
+even turns a mill; it just flows along and waters the flowers.  I have
+seen it with my bodily eyes only once; but it has left in my life a
+blessing, a picture of blue sky, yellow bells, and clear rippling
+water—and whispered secrets not forgotten.
+
+All the Devonshire streams are full of life and strength.  They chatter
+cheerily over stones, they toil bravely to shape out their bed.  Some of
+them might tell horrible tales of the far-away past, of the worship of
+the false god when blood stained the clear waters; tales, too, of feud
+and warfare, of grave council and martial gathering; and happy stories of
+fairy and pixy our eyes are too dull to see, and of queer little hillmen
+with foreign ways and terror of all human beings.  Their banks are bright
+with tormentil, blue with forget-me-not, rich in treasures of starry
+moss; the water is clear, cool in the hottest summer—they rise under the
+shadow of the everlasting hills, and their goal is the sea.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+There are other times when I must leave the clean waters and the good
+brown earth, to live, for a while, in London: and there I go on
+pilgrimage that I may listen to the river’s voice.
+
+I stand sometimes at a wharf where the ships are being unloaded of the
+riches of every country, of fruits of labour by my unknown brothers in
+strange lands; and the river speaks of citizenship in the great world of
+God, wherein all men have place, each man have his own place, and every
+one should be neighbour to him who may have need.
+
+I pass on to London Bridge, our Bridge of Sighs.  How many of these my
+brethren have sought refuge in the cold grey arms of the river from
+something worse than death?  What drove them to this dreadful
+resting-place?  What spectre hurried them to the leap?  These things,
+too, are my concern, the river says.
+
+Life is very grim in London: it is not painted in the fair, glowing
+colours of grass and sky and trees, and shining streams that bring peace.
+It is drawn in hard black and white; but the voice of its dark waters
+must be heard all the same.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+I would not leave my rivers in the shadow.  After all, this life is only
+a prelude, a beginning: we pass on to where “the rivers and streams make
+glad the city of God.”  But if we will not listen here how shall we
+understand hereafter.
+
+
+
+
+Spring
+
+
+   HARK how the merry daffodils,
+   Fling golden music to the hills!
+   And how the hills send echoing down,
+   Through wind-swept turf and moorland brown,
+   The murmurs of a thousand rills
+   That mock the song-birds’ liquid trills!
+   The hedge released from Winter’s frown
+   Shews jewelled branch and willow crown;
+   While all the earth with pleasure trills,
+   And ‘dances with the daffodils.’
+
+   Out, out, ye flowers!  Up and shout!
+   Staid Winter’s passed and Spring’s about
+   To lead your ranks in joyous rout;
+   To string the hawthorn’s milky pearls,
+   And gild the grass with celandine;
+   To dress the catkins’ tasselled curls,
+   To twist the tendrils of the vine.
+   She wakes the wind-flower from her sleep,
+   And lights the woods with April’s moon;
+   The violets lift their heads to peep,
+   The daisies brave the sun at noon.
+
+   The gentle wind from out the west
+   Toys with the lilac pretty maids;
+   Ruffles the meadow’s verdant-vest,
+   And rings the bluebells in the glades;
+   The ash-buds change their sombre suit,
+   The orchards blossom white and red—
+   Promise of Autumn’s riper fruit,
+   When Spring’s voluptuousness has fled.
+   Awake! awake, O throstle sweet!
+   And haste with all your choir to greet
+   This Queen who comes with wakening feet.
+
+   Persephone with grateful eyes
+   Salutes the Sun—’tis Paradise:
+   Then hastens down the dewy meads,
+   Past where the herd contented feeds,
+   Past where the furrows hide the grain,
+   For harvesting of sun and rain;
+   To where Demeter patient stands
+   With longing lips and outstretched hands,
+   Until the dawning of one face
+   Across the void of time and space
+   Shall bring again her day of grace.
+   Rejoice, O Earth!  Rejoice and sing!
+   This is the promise of the Spring,
+   And this the world’s remembering.
+
+
+
+
+A Lark’s Song
+
+
+   SWEET, sweet!
+   I rise to greet
+   The sapphire sky
+   The air slips by
+   On either side
+   As up I ride
+   On mounting wing,
+   And sing and sing—
+   Then reach my bliss,
+   The sun’s great kiss;
+   And poise a space
+   To see his face,
+   Sweet, sweet,
+   In radiant grace,
+   Ah, sweet! ah, sweet!
+
+   Sweet, sweet!
+   Beneath my feet
+   My nestlings call:
+   And down I fall
+   Unerring, true,
+   Through heaven’s blue;
+   And haste to fill
+   Each noisy bill.
+   My brooding breast
+   Stills their unrest.
+   Sweet, sweet,
+   Their quick hearts beat,
+   Safe in the nest:
+   Ah, sweet, sweet, sweet!
+   Ah, sweet!
+
+   Sweet, sweet
+   The calling sky
+   That bids me fly
+   Up—up—on high.
+   Sweet, sweet
+   The claiming earth;
+   It holds my nest
+   And draws me down
+   To where Love’s crown
+   Of priceless worth
+   Awaits my breast.
+   Sweet, sweet!
+   Ah, this is best
+   And this most meet,
+   Sweet, sweet! ah, sweet!
+
+
+
+
+‘Luvly Miss’
+
+
+NOBODY thought of consequences.  There was a lighted paraffin lamp on the
+table and nothing else handy.  Mrs Brown’s head presented a tempting
+mark, and of course Mr Brown’s lengthy stay at ‘The Three Fingers’ had
+something to do with it; but nobody thought of Miss Brown, aged four, who
+was playing happily on the floor, unruffled by the storm to which she was
+so well accustomed.
+
+Mrs Brown ducked; there was a smash, a scream, and poor little Miss Brown
+was in a blaze.  The shock sobered the father and silenced the mother.
+Miss Brown was extinguished with the aid of a table-cover, much water,
+and many neighbours; but she was horribly burnt all over, except her
+face.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+I made Miss Brown’s acquaintance a few days later.  She was lying on a
+bed made up on two chairs, and was covered with cotton wool.  She had
+scarcely any pain, and could not move at all; and the small face that
+peered out of what she called her “pitty warm snow” was wan and drawn and
+had a far-away look in the dark eyes.
+
+Miss Brown possessed one treasure, her ‘luvly miss.’  I suppose I must
+call it a doll, though in what its claim to the title consisted I dared
+not ask; Miss Brown would have deeply resented the enquiry.  It was a
+very large potato with a large and a small bulge.  Into the large bulge
+were inserted three pieces of fire-wood, the body and arms of ‘luvly
+miss’; legs she had none.
+
+How Miss Brown came by this treasure I never heard.  She had an
+impression that it “flied froo the winder”—I fancy Mr Brown had a hand in
+the manufacture in one of his lucid moments; but it was a treasure indeed
+and the joy of Miss Brown’s life.  She held long conversations with
+‘luvly miss’ on all familiar subjects; and apparently obtained much
+strange and rare information from her.  For example, Miss Brown and
+‘luvly miss’ in some previous stage of their existence had inhabited a
+large chimney-pot together, “where it was always so warm and a bootie
+‘mell of cookin’.’”  Also she had a rooted belief that one day she and
+‘luvly miss’ would be “hangels wiv’ black weils and basticks.”  This
+puzzled me for some time, until I discovered it to be an allusion to the
+good deaconess who attended her, and whom Mrs Brown in gratitude
+designated by this title.
+
+Alas for little Miss Brown and her ‘luvly miss’! their respective ends
+were drawing near.  I went in one Friday, a week or so after the
+accident, and found Mrs Brown in tears and despair, and Miss Brown with a
+look of anguish on her poor little pinched face that was bad to see.
+‘Luvly Miss’ was no more.
+
+It was Mr Brown again; or, to trace back the links of occasion, it was
+the action of ‘The Three Fingers’ on Mr Brown’s frail constitution.  He
+had come in late, seen ‘luvly miss’ on the table, and, with his usual
+heedlessness of consequence, had chucked her into the dying embers
+where—alas that I should have to say it!—she slowly baked.  Little Miss
+Brown, when the miserable truth was broken to her, neither wept nor
+remonstrated; she lay quite still with a look of utter forsaken
+wretchedness on her tiny white face, and moaned very softly for ‘luvly
+miss.’
+
+I came face to face with this state of things and I confess it staggered
+me.  I knew Miss Brown too well to hope that any pink-and-white darling
+from the toy-shop could replace ‘luvly miss,’ or that she could be
+persuaded to admit even a very image of the dear departed into her
+affections.  Then, too, the doctor said Miss Brown had but a few days at
+the most, perhaps only hours, to live; and comforted she must be.
+
+All at once I had an inspiration, and never in my life have I welcomed
+one more.  I knelt down by little Miss Brown and told her the story of
+the Phoenix.  I had not reckoned in vain upon her imagination: would I
+“yerely and twooly bwing” her “werry own luvly miss out of the ashes?”  I
+lied cheerfully and hastened away to the dust-bin, accompanied by Mrs
+Brown.
+
+In a few minutes we returned with a pail of ashes, the ashes, of course,
+of ‘luvly miss’ mingled with those of the cruel fire which had consumed
+her.  I danced solemnly round them, murmured mysterious words, parted the
+ashes, and revealed the form of ‘luvly miss.’  Love’s eyes were not sharp
+to mark a change, and little Miss Brown’s misplaced faith in me was
+strong.  Never shall I forget the scream of joy which greeted the
+restored treasure, or the relief with which I saw an expression of peace
+settle once more on Miss Brown’s face.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+I saw them again next day.  Little Miss Brown was asleep in her last
+little bed, still wrapped in the “pitty warm snow,” and ‘luvly miss’ lay
+beside her.
+
+
+
+
+Four Stories Told to Children
+
+
+The Story of the Dreadful Griffin.
+
+
+MY DEAR CHILDREN,—I am going to tell you a really breathless story for
+your holiday treat.  It will have to begin with the moral, because
+everyone will be too much exhausted to read one at the end, and as the
+moral is the only part that really matters, it is important to come to it
+quite fresh.
+
+We will, therefore, endeavour to learn from this story:—
+
+    If we fly at all, to fly _high_.
+    To be extremely polite.
+    To be kind and grateful to cats and all other animals.
+
+All the trouble arose one day when the Princess (there is always a
+Princess in a fairy-tale, you know) was playing in the garden with her
+ball.  She threw it up in the air much higher than usual and it never
+came down again.  There was an awful shriek, like ten thousand
+steam-engines; all the ladies-in-waiting fainted in a row, the
+inhabitants of the place went stone-deaf, and the Captain of the Guard,
+who was in attendance with a company of his troops, seized the Princess,
+put her on his horse, galloped away followed by his soldiers to a castle
+on the top of a hill, deposited the Princess in the highest room, and
+then and only then, told her what had happened.
+
+“Miss,” he said, for he was so upset he forgot Court etiquette, “Miss,
+your ball must have hit the Dreadful Griffin in the eye (I noticed he was
+taking a little fly in the neighbourhood), and that was the reason of the
+awful shriek.  Well, Miss, the Dreadful Griffin never was known to
+forgive anybody anything, so I snatched you up quick before he could get
+at you and brought you to the Castle of the White Cats.  There are
+seventeen of these animals sitting outside the door and twenty-seven more
+standing in the courtyard, so you’re as safe as safe can be, for the
+Dreadful Griffin can’t look at a white cat without getting the ague and
+then he shakes so a mouse wouldn’t be afraid of him.  And now, Miss, I
+must go back to your Royal Pa, so I will wish you good-morning.”
+
+Having made this long speech the Captain suddenly remembered the Court
+etiquette, became very hot and red, went out of the room backwards, and
+instantly fell over the seventeen cats who all swore at him, which so
+confused the poor man that he rolled down the stairs and out into the
+court where the twenty-seven cats were having rations of mouse-pie served
+out to them; and the Captain rolled into the middle of the pie, scalded
+himself badly with the gravy, and was thankful to jump on his horse and
+ride away with his soldiers to report matters to the King.
+
+The King was so pleased with his promptitude that he made him the General
+of the Flying Squadron, which only fights in the air, and conferred on
+him the medal of the Society for the Suppression of Superfluous
+Salamanders, whereat the Captain was overjoyed.
+
+But this is a digression, and I only told you because I wanted you to see
+that virtue is always rewarded.
+
+Now for the poor Princess.
+
+Well, she cried a little, of course, but the cats brought her some
+mouse-pie, which she found very good, and she was soon quite happy
+playing with some of the kittens and nearly forgot all about the Dreadful
+Griffin; but he did not forget about _her_, oh dear no!  He flew after
+the Captain when he galloped away with the Princess, but when he saw the
+White Cats he shook with ague so fearfully that his teeth rolled about in
+his mouth like billiard balls and he had to go and get a new set before
+he could eat his dinner.  Well, he was in a perfect fury, and how to get
+at the Princess he did not know.  He swallowed several buckets of hot
+brimstone, rolled his head in a red flannel petticoat, put his tail in a
+hot sand-bag, and went to bed hoping to cure the ague, which he did
+completely, so that he was quite well next day and more anxious to eat
+the Princess than ever.
+
+Now next door to the Dreadful Griffin (that is, a hundred miles away)
+there lived a Wicked Witch, and he went to consult her as to how he might
+get at the Princess.  When the Wicked Witch heard what a sad effect White
+Cats had on the Griffin’s constitution she said that she would have
+expected a Griffin of his coils to have had more sense.
+
+“Any slow-worm knows,” said the Wicked Witch, “that cats love mice better
+than Princesses; therefore get a large sack of fat mice, let them loose a
+little way from the castle, and when the cats see them they will run
+after them, and you can eat the Princess.”
+
+The Dreadful Griffin was so pleased with the Wicked Witch that he
+presented her with a pair of fire-bricks and a hot-water tin, and then
+flew away to the Purveyor of Mice, who lived in a town about seventy
+miles away.  He bought twelve hundred dozen fat mice of the best quality,
+all the Purveyor had in stock that were home-grown, and flew on with them
+to the castle.  When he was a little way off he let the mice out,
+expecting all the cats to arrive at once; but not a cat appeared.  They
+_heard_ mice and they _smelt_ mice, but not a cat moved, for they were on
+their honour; so they kept guard and licked their lips sadly.  When the
+Griffin saw the last of the twelve hundred dozen mice disappearing down
+the road with never a cat after them, he was in a tremendous temper and
+flew away to the house of the Wicked Witch, only stopping to pick up a
+steam engine which he dropped through her roof, and then went home to
+bed.  Next day he remembered a friend of his called the Grumpy Giant, who
+lived six doors away, that is, about a thousand miles, so he flew to ask
+his advice.  When the Giant heard his story, he said in the gruffest
+voice you ever heard, “Mice is common, try sparrers” (by which you can
+see that he was quite an uneducated person), and then he turned over and
+went to sleep.
+
+The Dreadful Griffin at once flew away to the Sparrow Preserves, bought
+eleven thousand, and then proceeded to let them fly close to the castle.
+Still not a cat moved.  As the cats’ copy-book well says, “Honour is
+dearer to cats than mice or birds,” and all the kittens write this in
+round-hand as soon as they can do lessons at all, and never forget it.
+
+Well, I really dare not describe the state of mind the Griffin was in;
+but he made the air so hot that all the people put on their thinnest
+clothes, although it was the middle of winter.  He flew home puffing and
+snorting, and on the way he passed the house of the Amiable Answerer.  He
+went in and told his story, and his voice shook with rage.  The Amiable
+Answerer gave him a penny pink ice to cool him down, and then said
+gently:—
+
+“I think, dear Mr Griffin, that green spectacles would meet your case.
+Then the cats which are now white would appear to you green and . . . ”
+
+But the Griffin was already half-way to a Watchmaker’s where they sold
+glasses.  He burst into the shop, frightened the watchmaker so that he
+fell into the works of the watch he was mending and could only be got out
+with the greatest difficulty, seized twelve pairs of green spectacles,
+put them on all at once and flew towards the castle.
+
+Now the Dreadful Griffin was one of those creatures who do not stop to
+think, consequently he came to grief.  White cats gave him the ague, but
+green dogs made him cough most fearfully; and a little way out of the
+town he met thirteen white poodles taking a walk, who of course all
+looked bright green to the Dreadful Griffin.  He coughed so fearfully
+that all the twelve pairs of spectacles fell off his nose and were
+smashed to bits, and his plan was spoilt once more.
+
+No, I am not going to tell you what the Dreadful Griffin said and did
+then, it is too terrible to speak of, but he had to keep in bed for a
+week, and drink hot tar, and have his chest ironed with a steam roller,
+and his nose greased with seven pounds of tallow candles; but all his
+misfortunes did not cure him of wanting to eat the Princess.  When his
+cough was better, he went for a walk in the wood near which he lived, to
+think out a new plan.  Suddenly he heard something croaking, and saw the
+Fat Frog sitting under a tree.  Now the Dreadful Griffin was so low in
+his mind that he wanted to tell someone his troubles, so he told the Fat
+Frog.
+
+“Don’t come near me,” said the Fat Frog when he had finished, “for I hate
+heat.  If you look under the fifth tree from the end of the wood you’ll
+find a thin packet.  Put it in sixteen gallons of water and pour it over
+the cats, only mind you shut your eyes first, and for goodness sake don’t
+come into this wood any more, you dry up the moisture.”
+
+The Griffin quite forgot to thank the Fat Frog, he was a Griffin of _no_
+manners, but he didn’t forget to take the packet.  It was labelled
+‘Reckitt’s,’ and when he put it in the water all the water turned bright
+blue.  Then he took the pail in his claw, flew to the castle, shut his
+eyes and poured some of the contents of the pail over the cats in the
+courtyard.
+
+When he opened his eyes there were twenty-seven bright blue, damp,
+depressed cats; and he passed them without any difficulty.  He shut his
+eyes, wriggled up the stairs, poured the remaining mixture over the
+seventeen cats, who all turned as blue as the rest, and then he burst
+open the door of the Princess’s room.  Fortunately there was a kind Fairy
+flying over the castle at that very moment, who, seeing what was
+happening, changed the Princess into a flea so that the Dreadful Griffin
+couldn’t see her anywhere.
+
+No, if I couldn’t tell you before, I certainly must not attempt now to
+describe the Griffin’s behaviour when he found the Princess thus snatched
+from his jaws.  He went grunting and bellowing and screaming along; and
+just as he was stopping to take breath he heard someone roaring with
+laughter, and saw a little yellow man sitting on the top bough of a tree.
+
+“Are you laughing at ME?” said the Dreadful Griffin (he was so angry that
+he was quite polite).  And the little man said quite as politely that he
+certainly _was_.
+
+“Why?” said the Dreadful Griffin, still fearfully polite.
+
+“Because you’re such a green Griffin,” said the yellow man; and he
+screamed with laughter again—“I know all about it, you’ve blued the cats
+and now the Princess has greened you.  She’s turned into a flea, and you
+still want to eat her, and it never occurred to you, you green old
+grampus of a Griffin, that fleas like _cats_.  I suppose the Princess
+flea wouldn’t jump on to a tabby kitten, and you couldn’t swallow the
+kitten—oh dear, no—of course not . . .”
+
+But the Griffin was gone.  He went to the Zoo, found a tabby kitten,
+though they are rare in that country, and flew back with it to the
+Princess’s room.
+
+He waited half an hour and then swallowed the kitten at one gulp; but he
+instantly burst in four pieces, for the fluffy kitten tickled his
+digestive organs so much that they cracked his sides and he died; and the
+flea and the kitten came out quite unhurt, only a little damp.
+
+Then a wonderful thing happened.  The tabby kitten changed into the
+little yellow man who had laughed at the Griffin.  He grew, and grew, and
+in a few minutes he was a handsome prince.  His name was Prince Orange
+Plushikins.  One day a cruel witch whom he had offended had changed him
+into an ugly yellow man, and had sworn that he should only regain his
+shape if he was eaten by a Griffin when under the form of a tabby kitten;
+which you know was precisely what happened.  Well, Prince Orange
+Plushikins at once asked the Princess flea to marry him, and the minute
+the flea said “Yes,” the Princess reappeared.  She and the Prince were
+married next morning; and all the cats went to the steam laundry and were
+washed and bleached and had their tails crimped and their whiskers
+starched; and they danced at the wedding, and everybody lived happily
+ever after.
+
+
+
+The Discontented Daffodils.
+
+
+THEY had the very loveliest home you can imagine, with beautiful soft
+moss and grass to grow in, trees to form a cosy shelter from the wind,
+and a dear little babbling stream to water them.
+
+There were lots of daffodils in this pretty place, and nobody ever
+discovered the nook to gather them.  They rejoiced in the spring sunshine
+and gentle breezes, the greeting of the birds, and the musical chatter of
+the brook; then when their brief visit to the upper world was over they
+nestled happily down in their warm mossy beds and slept till April came
+again to wake them.
+
+A little apart from the rest were four daffodils growing at the root of a
+gnarled oak tree, and one fine sunshiny morning three of them took it
+into their silly little heads that they were dull, the place was dull,
+the other daffodils were dull, and they wanted a change.
+
+It was mainly the fault of the cuckoo, for he was a grumbling,
+mischief-making bird and used to spend a good deal of time talking to the
+daffodils.  This particular spring he had taken up his abode in the oak
+tree, and was fond of talking of all the grand things he had seen, and a
+great many he had not seen, for the cuckoo is a bird of fine imagination;
+and at last, as I have already said, three of the daffodils made up their
+minds that to be a flower and live in a wood was a very dreadful thing,
+and not to be put up with any longer.
+
+Now the cuckoo had told many strange tales about creatures with two legs
+and beautiful coloured leaves which grew in an odd way, and feathers only
+on their heads.  They could not fly, but they could run about from place
+to place, and dance and sing; and at last the daffodils decided that they
+wished to be like these curious creatures, which the cuckoo called
+_girls_.
+
+Then there were sad times in that sweet little nook under the oak tree.
+
+The naughty daffodils cried and quarrelled and bewailed their lot all day
+long, till they made themselves and everybody else extremely wretched.
+Their little sister shook her head at them, and scolded and said that for
+her part she was not meant to have legs; but it was all no use, the
+daffodils would not be quiet.
+
+One day the Fairy Visitor who looked after the flowers in that part heard
+the silly blossoms crying, and stopped to ask what was the matter.  When
+she heard the story she told them they were very foolish and
+discontented, and that the cuckoo was a most mischievous bird and liked
+to get people into trouble; but the daffodils would not listen.  So
+knowing there is nothing so likely to cure silly flower as to give them
+their own silly way, she said—“Very well, my dears, you want to be girls,
+and girls you shall be.”
+
+With that she waved her wand over the three daffodils and in a twinkle
+they were gone; in their places stood three tall pretty maidens dressed
+in soft yellow silk frocks with green stockings and shoes.  For a minute
+they were too much astonished to speak, then clapping their hands they
+laughed and skipped for joy, and wanted to kiss the old fairy because
+they were so pleased at getting their own way; but the fairy would not
+look at them, and stooped over the little flower now growing all alone,
+saying kindly:—
+
+“Well, little one, don’t you want to be a pretty maiden, too?”
+
+But the daffodil shook her head with great determination:—
+
+“I don’t want legs and I won’t have legs.  I was meant to be a flower and
+a flower I will be, but if you could keep that meddling, chattering
+cuckoo away from this tree for a time I should be much obliged.”
+
+And the fairy laughed and promised.
+
+Meanwhile the three pretty maidens had set of hand in hand to seek their
+fortunes.
+
+They went singing and dancing over the meadows in the soft afternoon
+sunshine, and thought how wise and clever they were to be girls instead
+of little unnoticed flowers growing in a wood.
+
+Presently they came to a house and stopped to ask whether they could have
+a lodging for the night.  There was no difficulty about it, for that is a
+happy country where there is no money and everything belongs to
+everybody, so the people of the house—an old man and woman—were delighted
+to see the beautiful maidens and made them heartily welcome, and the
+daffodils went to bed that night very happy and quite content with the
+result of their experiment.  When they came to undress, however, they
+received a severe shock.
+
+They were girls, real proper girls, they could chatter and eat and sleep,
+for the fairy was not one to do things by halves; but when they pulled
+off the dainty green shoes and stockings, they discovered that although
+they had the prettiest little legs and feet and toes in the world, they
+were quite green, the colour of daffodil leaves.
+
+There wasn’t anything said about a “dear, darling, kind old fairy” then,
+I can assure you.
+
+The first daffodil said she was a wicked old witch.  The second said she
+was a horrible old woman; and the third said she knew the fairy meant to
+pay them out, and she would like to scratch her.  Then they all set to
+work arguing and quarrelling and crying like silly babies, when suddenly
+a familiar “Cuck-oo!” sounded in their ears, and they saw our old
+acquaintance perched on the window sill.
+
+He looked at the six little green feet, and his eyes twinkled; but before
+he could speak the three angry maidens all began scolding him at once,
+for they were delighted to have somebody fresh to find fault with.
+
+The cuckoo, being in some respects a philosopher, did not attempt to
+interrupt, but when they were quite exhausted he said he really could not
+see any reason for their distress.  No one would ever wish to see their
+feet, and they could always wear stockings.  He added that he had great
+news, and had come on purpose to bring it.
+
+“The King of Silverland,” he said, “is coming with all his court to hold
+high revel close to this place and celebrate the coming of age of his
+three sons.  These princes were all born at once; and the king has
+decided to divide his kingdom into three equal parts and leave his sons
+to rule while he retires to his country place to study science.  Now
+these Silver princes desire to marry three princesses, sisters born at
+once like themselves; but they are very hard to find, and the king is
+advertising everywhere for triplets.  When I heard this I set off at once
+to tell you.”
+
+The three maidens were so much interested and excited that they forgot
+their troubles and began to sing.
+
+The cuckoo was pleased with his success, but told them they must go to
+bed and to sleep, and he would fetch them in the morning to show them the
+way to the King of Silverland’s court.
+
+Next morning, although he arrived quite early, the maidens were up and
+ready for him, looking very pretty in their yellow frocks.  The kind
+people of the house were quite sorry to part with their guests and begged
+them to come again, and the daffodil maidens set off in high spirits,
+following the cuckoo as he flew slowly ahead across the sunlit meadows.
+About noon they came in sight of the king’s court.  The gorgeous tents
+were of cloth of silver fastened with silver ropes; fountains were
+playing in the open spaces, and flags flying everywhere.  The daffodils
+attracted a great deal of attention as they made their way, blushing and
+a little frightened, through the crowds of soldiers, court ladies and
+attendants.  At the door of the largest and most gorgeous tent stood
+three beautiful princes dressed in silver.
+
+When they saw the maidens approaching, hand in hand, they gave a cry of
+joy and ran forward to greet them.
+
+“Dear beautiful princesses,” they cried, “welcome to our court!  May we
+ask your names and the country you come from?”
+
+The cuckoo, perched on a tent-pole hard by, answered for them.  “These
+are the Princesses Daffodil, daughters of the great King of Goldenland.
+They have come very many days’ journey to be present at your revels.”
+
+Think of the cuckoo telling such a dreadful story and those naughty
+daffodils not contradicting him!
+
+When the princes heard the cuckoo’s words they were almost beside
+themselves with joy, for, as it happened, there was a real King of
+Goldenland (but the cuckoo did not know it), and he had three daughters
+of the same age whom the Silver princes were anxious to see.  They
+dropped on one knee, kissed the maidens’ hands very prettily, and then
+led them, blushing and delighted, into the royal tent.
+
+The king was out, but the queen received the daffodils very graciously.
+
+“Triplet,” she said significantly, and it was the princes’ turn to blush.
+
+Then the young people visited all the beautiful tents, and the great
+ballroom where there was to be a ball that night, and the princes
+whispered to the maidens that they would dance with no one else.  When
+they had tasted the cowslip wine from the fountains and eaten lots of
+wonderful sweets the daffodils declared they were quite tired; so the
+princes put them into hammocks with little monkeys to swing them, and the
+happy hours wore on until the evening.
+
+The maidens had had a beautiful tent assigned to them by the queen, and
+they found lovely dresses of cloth of gold with shoes and stockings to
+match, all ready for them.  They looked so beautiful when they were
+dressed that the colour of their feet did not seem to matter at all.
+
+All that night they danced with the princes, and everyone was charmed
+with their beauty and grace, especially the king, who had not received a
+single answer to his advertisement.  At the great banquet which followed
+the ball the betrothal of the Silver princes to the Golden princesses was
+solemnly announced, and their health drunk amid great rejoicing.
+
+The dawn was red in the east before the festivities were over, and the
+daffodils went to bed happier than they had ever been before, happier
+than they ever would be again.  A new and awful trouble of which they had
+never dreamt was about to befall them.
+
+When the princes came to meet their betrothed next morning the maidens
+noticed that, although very affectionate, they were downcast and somewhat
+silent.  At last, after a great deal of questioning, the reason came out.
+The king and queen had both had exactly the same curious dream, and this
+strange occurrence had upset their majesties very much.  They both dreamt
+that one of the princesses, as they believed them to be, had six toes on
+each foot; and as no monstrosity could ever share the throne of
+Silverland they demanded to see the princesses’ little feet with their
+own eyes, so as to be quite sure they all had only the right number of
+toes.
+
+When the princes with many blushes broke this news to their lady-loves,
+they each gave a short loud scream and fainted.
+
+Their lovers, of course, put this down to extreme modesty, and were much
+affected by such proper conduct; but when they succeeded in restoring
+them to consciousness they were not a little disturbed to find that the
+maidens positively refused to show their feet.
+
+Imagine the grief of the poor princes!  The king had said quite
+positively that not one of the princes should marry till he, the queen,
+and the councillors of the kingdom, had seen the bride’s feet; and the
+maidens now declared that they would never never show them.
+
+Matters were in this awkward state when the cuckoo appeared on the scene.
+He had as usual contrived to find out what was going on, and now
+announced that he had a private message for the Golden princesses, if
+they would take him to their tent.
+
+When they were alone the daffodils began to cry their eyes out, and the
+cuckoo to try and comfort them.
+
+“Green feet,” he said, “are very uncommon and would no doubt be welcomed
+as a great rarity.”
+
+But the maidens sobbed on.
+
+“The princes love you so much they will think your little feet the most
+beautiful colour in the world.”
+
+But they would not listen.
+
+“I heard the king and queen say that green was their favourite colour,”
+he remarked next.
+
+This was pure invention on the cuckoo’s part, but the daffodils were
+somewhat cheered, and after a great deal of talking the cuckoo persuaded
+them to give in and consent to show their feet, as they could not
+possibly marry the princes without.  Besides, perhaps when the king found
+their toes were all right he would think the colour rather ornamental
+than otherwise.  So the princes were told to their great joy that the
+princesses had consented to show their feet; and the king and queen, on
+being informed, summoned a Cabinet Council for the next morning so that
+their ministers might be present at the counting of the princesses’ toes.
+
+Meantime the real Goldenland princesses had arrived near the camp; but as
+they and their suite were very tired they resolved not to visit the
+Silver king till the next day, and commanded that no one should mention
+their arrival.
+
+That night the daffodils never slept, for fear once more took possession
+of them.  They scrubbed their feet, but the fairy’s dye would not come
+off; then they scraped them, but that hurt very much and did no good.
+Finally they chalked them, but that was no use at all; so they had to
+give it up in despair, and hope for the best.
+
+Next morning two of the court ushers came to escort them to the Cabinet
+Council.  Poor daffodils!  Their eyes were red with weeping, and they
+could scarcely stand for terror when they entered the tent where the
+examination was to take place.
+
+In the middle on a raised dais sat the king and queen, on their right
+stood the three princes, on their left the councillors in their robes of
+state.  Three chairs were placed for the maidens, and they were politely
+but firmly requested to take off their shoes and stockings.
+
+Blushing crimson the daffodils slowly and unwillingly took off their
+shoes.  Then they cried a little and said they really truly couldn’t, but
+it was no use, and the stockings had to follow, and six little green feet
+were exposed to view.
+
+“They wear two pairs, I see,” said the queen, who was a little
+short-sighted.  “Very sensible, I’m sure, in this damp place.  Take off
+the other pair, my dears.”
+
+But the daffodils only hung their heads and wept.
+
+Then one of the councillors cried out, in a horrified tone—“Their feet
+are green!  They are monstrosities!” and at that very moment heralds were
+heard outside announcing the arrival of the Princesses of Goldenland.
+
+Now the king was a shrewd old gentleman, and the true state of affairs
+suddenly flashed upon him.  “They are impostors!” he cried, rising to his
+feet, “turn the deceitful minxes out.”
+
+At that the maidens rose and fled.  They never stopped for shoes or
+stockings, but ran like hunted hares out of the tent across the fields;
+and when the people saw their little green feet a great shout of laughter
+went up, in which the king and the princes joined.  As for the daffodils,
+they ran and ran and ran, not daring even to look behind them, till they
+suddenly stopped for want of breath; and where do you think they were?
+Why in their old home under the oak tree.  Most of the daffodils had gone
+to sleep, but a few were left, and among them their little sister.  At
+her side stood the fairy.
+
+“Well, my dears, do you like being girls?” and there was a twinkle in her
+eye as she spoke.
+
+But the daffodils were sobbing too bitterly to answer, and the fairy had
+a kind heart and did not press the question.  “Would you be content to be
+daffodils again?” she asked, and smiled at them sweetly.
+
+They murmured a thankful “Yes”; the fairy waved her wand, and in a trice
+the maidens were gone and there were three more flowers, very pale faded
+ones, growing under the gnarled oak tree.  Poor discontented daffodils!
+They had to pay a heavy price for their folly.
+
+The cuckoo came back time after time, and never wearied of teasing them;
+and their little sister made many very true but disagreeable remarks on
+the extreme silliness of being discontented with one’s surroundings.
+
+Perhaps by next spring things may be better; but of this you may be quite
+sure, no amount of cuckoos will ever persuade the flowers in that nook to
+be anything but what nature intended them to be—sweet little daffodils.
+
+
+
+The Fairy Fluffikins
+
+
+THE Fairy Fluffikins lived in a warm woolly nest in a hole down an old
+oak tree.  She was the sweetest, funniest little fairy you ever saw.  She
+wore a little, soft, fluffy brown dress, and on her head a little red
+woolly cap; she had soft red hair and the brightest, naughtiest,
+merriest, sharpest brown eyes imaginable.
+
+What a life she led the animals!  Fairy Fluffikins was a sad tease; she
+would creep into the nests where the fat baby dormice were asleep in bed
+while Mamma dormouse nodded over her knitting and Papa smoked his little
+acorn pipe; and she would tickle the babies till they screamed with
+laughter and nearly rolled out of bed, and Mamma scolded, and Papa said
+in a gruff voice—“What a plague you are, you little dors; go to sleep
+this minute or I will fetch my big stick.”
+
+And then the babies would shake, for they were afraid of the big stick;
+and naughty Fairy Fluffikins would dance off to find some fresh piece of
+mischief.
+
+One night she had fine fun.  She found a little dead mouse in a field;
+and at first she was sorry for the mouse, and thought she would bury it
+and plant a daisy on its grave; but then an idea struck her.  She hunted
+about till she found a piece of long, strong grass, and then she took the
+little mouse, tied the piece of grass round its tail, and ran away with
+it to the big tree where the Ancient Owl lived.  There was a little hole
+at the bottom of the tree and into it Fairy Fluffikins crept, leaving the
+mouse outside in the moonlight.  Presently she heard a gruff voice in the
+tree saying—
+
+“I smell mouse, I smell mouse.”  Then there was a swoop of wings, and
+Fairy Fluffikins promptly drew the mouse into the little hole and stuffed
+its tail into her mouth so that she might not be heard laughing; and the
+gruff voice said angrily—
+
+“Where’s that mouse gone?  I smelt mouse, I know I smelt mouse!”
+
+She grew tired of this game after a few times, so she left the mouse in
+the hole and crept away to a new one.  She really was a naughty fairy.
+She blew on the buttercups so that they thought the morning breeze had
+come to wake them up, and opened their cups in a great hurry.  She buzzed
+outside the clover and made it talk in its sleep, so that it said in a
+cross, sleepy voice—“Go away, you stupid busy bee, and don’t wake me up
+in the middle of the night.”
+
+She pulled the tail of the nightingale who was singing to his lady-love
+in the hawthorn bush, and he lost his place in his song and nearly
+tumbled over backwards into the garden.  Then to her joy she met an
+elderly, domestic puss taking an evening walk with a view to field-mice.
+
+Here was sport.  Fluffikins hid in the grass and squeaked; and when the
+elderly cat came tearing up she pulled his whiskers and flew away (I
+forgot to tell you that she had little, soft wings), and the elderly cat
+jumped and said—
+
+“Mouse-traps and mince-meat!  Fancy a cat of my age and experience taking
+a bat for a mouse!  But by my claws I heard a mouse’s squeak.”
+
+Fairy Fluffikins often met the poor elderly cat, and always led him some
+dreadful dance, now and then taking a ride on his back into the bargain,
+till he thought he must have got the nightmare.
+
+One day Fairy Fluffikins was well paid out for some of her naughtiness.
+She was flying away from a tree where she had just wrapped a sleeping
+bat’s head up in a large cobweb, when she heard the sweep of wings, felt
+a sharp nip—and in less time than it takes to tell found herself in the
+nest of the Ancient Owl.
+
+“My wig!” said the Ancient Owl, much surprised, “I thought you were a
+bat.”  And he called his wife and three children to look.
+
+Now when Fairy Fluffikins saw five pairs of large round eyes blinking and
+staring at her she lost her head and cried out—“Please, please, Mr
+Ancient Owl, don’t be angry with me and I will never play tricks with
+mice any more,” and so told the Ancient Owl what he had never even
+suspected before.
+
+Then the Ancient Owl was MOST DREADFULLY ANGRY and read Fairy Fluffikins
+a long sermon about the wickedness of deceiving Ancient Owls.  The sermon
+took two hours and a half; and when it was over all the owls hooted at
+her and pecked her; and Fairy Fluffikins was very glad indeed when at
+last Mrs Ancient Owl gave her a push and said—
+
+“Go along, you impertinent brown minx,” and she was able to go out into
+the night.
+
+Even this sad adventure did not cure Fairy Fluffikins of getting into
+mischief—although she never teased the owls any more, you may be sure of
+that—she took to tormenting the squirrels instead.  She used to find
+their stores of nuts and carry them away and fill the holes with pebbles;
+and this, when you are a hard-working squirrel with a large family to
+support, is very trying to the temper.  Then she would tie acorns to
+their tails; and she would clap her hands to frighten them, and pull the
+baby-squirrels’ ears; till at last they offered a reward to anyone who
+could catch Fairy Fluffikins and bring her to be punished.
+
+No one caught Fairy Fluffikins; but she caught herself, as you shall
+hear.
+
+She was poking about round a haystack one night, trying to find something
+naughty to do, when she came upon a sweet little house with pretty wire
+walls and a wooden door standing invitingly open.  In hopped Fluffikins,
+thinking she was going to have some new kind of fun.  There was a little
+white thing dangling from the roof, and she laid hold of it.  Immediately
+there was a bang; the wooden door slammed; and Fluffikins was caught.
+
+How she cried and stamped and pushed at the door, and promised to be a
+good fairy and a great many other things!  But all to no purpose: the
+door was tight shut, and Fluffikins was not like some fortunate fairies
+who can get out of anywhere.
+
+There she remained, and in the morning one of the labourers found her,
+and, thinking she was some kind of dormouse, he carried her home to his
+little girl; and if you call on Mary Ann Smith you will see Fairy
+Fluffikins there still in a little cage.  They give her nuts and cheese
+and bread, and all the things she doesn’t like, and there is no one to
+tease and no mischief to get into; so if there is a miserable little
+Fairy anywhere it is Fairy Fluffikins, and I’m not sure it doesn’t serve
+her quite right.
+
+
+
+The Story of the Tinkle-Tinkle.
+
+
+Once upon a time there lived a Tinkle-Tinkle.  I cannot tell you what he
+was like, because no man knows, not even the Tinkle-Tinkle himself.
+Sometimes he lived on the ground, sometimes in a tree, sometimes in the
+water, sometimes in a cave; and I can’t tell you what he lived on, for no
+man knows, not even the Tinkle-Tinkle himself.
+
+One day the Tinkle-Tinkle was going through a wood, when he heard a
+piteous weeping.  He stopped, for he was a kindly Tinkle-Tinkle, and
+found two small dormice sobbing under a tree because they had been
+cruelly deserted by their parents.  He wiped their eyes tenderly and took
+them to his cave home; but I cannot tell you how he went, for no man
+knows, not even the Tinkle-Tinkle.  However, when he got there he put the
+dormice to bed in his grandmother’s boots, for which he had never found
+any use before, and fed them on periwinkles and tea, and was very kind to
+them; and when they grew older he bought them caps and aprons, and they
+became the Tinkle-Tinkle’s housemaid and parlourmaid.
+
+Now I must tell you that it was a great grief to the Tinkle-Tinkle not to
+know what he was, or how he lived, or where he was going to; and it often
+made him depressed, but he always concealed it from the dormice,
+appearing a most cheerful and contented creature.
+
+One day he found a poor green bird lying on the ground with its leg
+broken.  Fortunately Tinkle-Tinkle had his grandmother’s black silk
+reticule with him which had never been of any service to him before.  He
+gently placed the green bird in the bottom and carried it to the cave.
+
+The dormice laid the poor sufferer on a soft bed and put the broken leg
+up carefully in plaster of Paris; and they nursed the green bird with the
+greatest attention so that it was soon well enough to hop about on
+crutches; and it sang so beautifully that all the inhabitants round gave
+it money, and its fame spread abroad; but it was so tenderly attached to
+the Tinkle-Tinkle and the dormice that it would not leave them.
+
+Now it happened on a certain evening that the Tinkle-Tinkle was
+travelling over the sea, when suddenly in the depths he caught sight of a
+most beautiful Creature.  It was all sorts of colours—white, rosy pink,
+and deep crimson, and pale blue fading into white and gold.  It had no
+face but a bright light; and it had quantities of beautiful iridescent
+wings, like the rainbow; and the most lovely voice you ever heard, like
+the sighing of the waves in the hollow of the sea.
+
+The Tinkle-Tinkle was so astonished and entranced that he stopped, and
+the beautiful Creature cried out to him, and its voice made Tinkle-Tinkle
+remember a dream he had once had of sunshine, and forest trees, and the
+song of birds; and the Creature said, “Ah, Tinkle-Tinkle! you are lonely
+and perplexed and sad, and you do not know whence you came nor why you
+are here; but the dormice know and the green bird knows, and I know, and
+we are glad for your being.  Go on, Tinkle-Tinkle, and do not sorrow, for
+some day you shall come back to me, and I will wrap you in my wings and
+take you where you belong, and then you will understand.”
+
+When the Tinkle-Tinkle heard this he was glad with a new strange
+gladness, and he went back to his cave; but not alone, for the spirit of
+hope went with him.
+
+The Tinkle-Tinkle had one gift—he could sing—how, no man knew, not even
+the Tinkle-Tinkle himself; and this is how he discovered his gift.
+
+One day in a secluded spot in the forest he found a dying stag, and the
+Tinkle-Tinkle was moved with great compassion and yet could do nothing.
+
+The great stag’s head drooped lower and lower till even the sun melted in
+a mist of pity, and the trees sighed, and the breezes hushed their
+voices.  Then suddenly the Tinkle-Tinkle crept close and began to sing,
+why or how he knew not.  As he sang, the birds and the stream were
+silenced and the breezes ceased, and the great stag’s breathing grew less
+and less laboured, and his eyes brightened, and presently he rose slowly
+to his feet and paced away to join the rest of the herd, and the
+Tinkle-Tinkle went with him.
+
+When the stag’s companions heard the story, they wept for all that had
+befallen their leader, but rejoiced also and blessed the Tinkle-Tinkle;
+and he sang once more for them, and the Star-spirits leaned out of their
+bright little windows to listen, and the night was glad.
+
+Many were the adventures of the Tinkle-Tinkle, and countless the
+creatures he cheered and helped, yet he never fancied himself any use or
+knew why he was in the world.  He brought home a poor old crab without a
+claw, and the green bird and the dormice found a hook and screwed it in,
+and the poor old crab used to carry parcels for the neighbours; but he
+still lived with the Tinkle-Tinkle.
+
+Another time it was a snail with a broken shell; for him they built a
+beautiful little house, and he made little rush brooms and sold them to
+the passers-by; but he lived ever after close to the Tinkle-Tinkle’s
+front door.
+
+So it went on till all the Tinkle-Tinkle’s homes were full of strange
+occupants, and he began to feel very old and worn and weary.  Then he
+remembered the promise of the beautiful Creature, and went slowly over
+the sea hoping the time had come for it to be fulfilled, and it had.  The
+beautiful Creature stretched out its lovely rose and purple wings and
+wrapped the Tinkle-Tinkle in their warm soft greatness, and bore him down
+and down through the depths till they came to the Great Gate.  At the
+beautiful Creature’s voice it swung slowly back, and they passed down the
+Blue Pathway, which is all ice, cut and carved into lovely pinnacles and
+spires, very blue with the blue of the summer sky and the southern seas.
+The Tinkle-Tinkle could just see it from between the beautiful Creature’s
+wings, stretching away in the blue distance, and at the end one star.
+
+Presently—and though the time had been one thousand years it had not
+seemed long to the Tinkle-Tinkle—they came out into a beautiful place
+that was nothing but light, and the beautiful Creature set the
+Tinkle-Tinkle down; he looked around him and saw many other
+Tinkle-Tinkles, and he knew them for what they were and loved their
+beauty; and the Creature gently swept one of its purple pinions across
+him, and the Tinkle-Tinkle took form.  He had many, many little soft,
+strong hands and many little white feet, and long sweeping wings and a
+face which shone with something of the light of the beautiful Creature;
+and the Tinkle-Tinkle saw and understood and sang for joy.
+
+
+
+
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+
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Grey Brethren, by Michael Fairless,
+Edited by Mary Emily Dowson
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions 
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at 
+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Grey Brethren
+       and other Fragments in Prose and Verse
+
+
+Author: Michael Fairless
+
+Editor: Mary Emily Dowson
+
+Release Date: August 4, 2019  [eBook #835]
+[This file was first posted on March 2, 1997]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREY BRETHREN***
+</pre>
+<p>Transcribed from the 1911 Duckworth and Co. edition by David
+Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/cover.jpg">
+<img alt=
+"Book cover"
+title=
+"Book cover"
+ src="images/cover.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<h1>The Grey Brethren</h1>
+<p style="text-align: center">And Other Fragments in Prose<br />
+and Verse</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span
+class="GutSmall">By</span></p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><b>Michael Fairless</b></p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">Author
+of</span><br />
+<span class="GutSmall">&lsquo;The Roadmender&rsquo;</span></p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/tpb.jpg">
+<img alt=
+"Decorative graphic"
+title=
+"Decorative graphic"
+ src="images/tps.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span
+class="GutSmall">London</span><br />
+<b>Duckworth and Co.</b><br />
+3 Henrietta Street, W.C.<br />
+1911</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall"><i>Third
+Impression</i></span></p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall"><i>All
+rights reserved</i></span></p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<h2><a name="pagev"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+v</span>Prefatory Note</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">There</span> is need to ask indulgence for
+this little book, because at first sight it seems to possess no
+other unity than that of type and cover.&nbsp; The root of its
+unity lies deeper, deeper even than any of subject or of method;
+it lies in the personal gift, the communication of heart to
+heart, which is the secret of charm in all the author&rsquo;s
+work.&nbsp; For this reason its publication is justified.</p>
+<p>The papers, poems, and stories it contains have, with two
+exceptions, appeared elsewhere, most of them in <a
+name="pagevi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. vi</span>&lsquo;The
+Pilot,&rsquo; where the Roadmender found his first welcome and
+his literary home.</p>
+<p>The fairy-tales were told by word of mouth to one child and
+another of widely differing ages; and three of them were
+afterwards published in &lsquo;The Parents&rsquo;
+Review.&rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;The Grey Brethren&rsquo; is from
+&lsquo;The Commonwealth.&rsquo;&nbsp; The Christmas papers and
+poems were brought out as a booklet by Messrs Mowbray &amp;
+Son.</p>
+<p>The author&rsquo;s characteristic quality is best displayed in
+these last, and in &lsquo;The Grey Brethren,&rsquo; but there
+will be interest for many readers in the rest of the book as
+well.&nbsp; That which afterwards became a firm artistic touch is
+seen in its uncertain beginning in &lsquo;By Rivers and
+Streams&rsquo;; <a name="pagevii"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+vii</span>and the delightful headlong humour of &lsquo;The
+Dreadful Griffin&rsquo; (invented for the &ldquo;boy named Cecco
+Hewlett,&rdquo; of whom Mr Barrie speaks in his &lsquo;Little
+White Bird&rsquo;) will shew Michael Fairless in a new light to
+those who have known her only in her books.</p>
+<p>Some of the many readers who have found her there will
+understand me when I say that the story of her life and death,
+and of her life too (as I believe) after death, is written down
+in the little tale of &lsquo;The Tinkle-Tinkle,&rsquo; first told
+to her best beloved in the wild garden at Kew, among blue
+hyacinths and shining grasses of the spring that spoke to her of
+Paradise.</p>
+<p style="text-align: right">M. E. D.</p>
+<h2>Contents</h2>
+<table>
+<tr>
+<td><p>&nbsp;</p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span
+class="GutSmall">PAGE</span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">Prefatory Note</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#pagev">v</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">The Grey Brethren</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page1">1</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">A Song of Low Degree</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page13">13</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">A German Christmas Eve</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page15">15</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">A Christmas Idyll</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page27">27</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">The Manifestation</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page43">43</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">All Souls&rsquo; Day in a German
+Town</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page52">52</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">By Rivers and Streams</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page55">55</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">Spring</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page68">68</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">A Lark&rsquo;s Song</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page72">72</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="smcap">&lsquo;Luvly Miss&rsquo;</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page75">75</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><p>FOUR STORIES TOLD TO CHILDREN</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p class="gutindent"><span class="smcap">The Dreadful
+Griffin</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right" class="gutindent"><span
+class="indexpageno"><a href="#page85">85</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p class="gutindent"><span class="smcap">The Discontented
+Daffodils</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right" class="gutindent"><span
+class="indexpageno"><a href="#page103">103</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p class="gutindent"><span class="smcap">The Fairy
+Fluffikins</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right" class="gutindent"><span
+class="indexpageno"><a href="#page128">128</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p class="gutindent"><span class="smcap">The Story of the
+Tinkle-Tinkle</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right" class="gutindent"><span
+class="indexpageno"><a href="#page138">138</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<h2><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 1</span>The Grey
+Brethren</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">Some</span> of the happiest remembrances
+of my childhood are of days spent in a little Quaker colony on a
+high hill.</p>
+<p>The walk was in itself a preparation, for the hill was long
+and steep and at the mercy of the north-east wind; but at the
+top, sheltered by a copse and a few tall trees, stood a small
+house, reached by a flagged pathway skirting one side of a bright
+trim garden.</p>
+<p>I, with my seven summers of lonely, delicate childhood, felt,
+when I gently closed the gate behind me, that I shut myself into
+Peace.&nbsp; The house was always somewhat dark, and there were
+no domestic sounds.&nbsp; The two old ladies, sisters, both born
+in the last century, sat in the cool, dim parlour, netting or
+sewing.&nbsp; Rebecca was small, with a nut-cracker nose and
+chin; Mary, tall and dignified, needed no velvet under the net
+cap.&nbsp; I can feel now the touch of the cool dove-coloured
+silk against my cheek, as I sat on the floor, watching the nimble
+fingers with the shuttle, and listened as Mary read aloud a
+letter received that morning, describing a meeting of the
+faithful and the &lsquo;moving of the Spirit&rsquo; among
+them.&nbsp; I had a mental picture of the &lsquo;Holy Heavenly
+Dove,&rsquo; with its wings of silvery grey, hovering over my
+dear old ladies; and I doubt not my vision was a true one.</p>
+<p>Once as I watched Benjamin, the old gardener&mdash;a most
+&lsquo;stiff-backed Friend&rsquo; despite his stoop and his
+seventy years&mdash;putting scarlet geraniums and yellow
+fever-few in the centre bed, I asked, awe-struck, whether such
+glowing colours were approved; and Rebecca smiled and
+said&mdash;&ldquo;Child, dost thee not think the Lord may have
+His glories?&rdquo; and I looked from the living robe of scarlet
+and gold to the dove-coloured gown, and said: &ldquo;Would it be
+pride in thee to wear His glories?&rdquo; and Mary answered for
+her&mdash;&ldquo;The change is not yet; better beseems us the
+ornament of a meek and quiet spirit.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The &lsquo;change from glory to glory&rsquo; has come to them
+both long since, but it seems to me as if their robes must still
+be Quaker-grey.</p>
+<p>Upstairs was the invalid daughter and niece.&nbsp; For years
+she had been compelled to lie on her face; and in that position
+she had done wonderful drawings of the High Priest, the Ark of
+the Covenant, and other Levitical figures.&nbsp; She had a
+cageful of tame canary-birds which answered to their names and
+fed from her plate at meal-times.&nbsp; Of these I remember only
+Roger, a gorgeous fellow with a beautiful voice and strong will
+of his own, who would occasionally defy his mistress from the
+secure fastness of a high picture-frame, but always surrendered
+at last, and came to listen to his lecture with drooping
+wings.</p>
+<p>A city of Peace, this little house, for the same
+severely-gentle decorum reigned in the kitchen as elsewhere: and
+now, where is such a haunt to be found?</p>
+<p>In the earlier part of this century the Friends bore a most
+important witness.&nbsp; They were a standing rebuke to rough
+manners, rude speech, and to the too often mere outward show of
+religion.&nbsp; No one could fail to be impressed by the
+atmosphere of peace suggested by their bearing and presence; and
+the gentle, sheltered, contemplative lives lived by most of them
+undoubtedly made them unusually responsive to spiritual
+influence.&nbsp; Now, the young birds have left the parent nest
+and the sober plumage and soft speech; they are as other men; and
+in a few short years the word Quaker will sound as strange in our
+ears as the older appellation Shaker does now.</p>
+<p>This year I read for the first time the Journal of George
+Fox.&nbsp; It is hard to link the rude, turbulent son of Amos
+with the denizens in my city of Peace; but he had his work to do
+and did it, letting breezy truths into the stuffy
+&lsquo;steeple-houses&rsquo; of the &lsquo;lumps of
+clay.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come out from among them and be ye separate; touch not
+the accursed thing!&rdquo; he thundered; and out they came,
+obedient to his stentorian mandate; but alack, how many treasures
+in earthen vessels did they overlook in their terror of the
+curse!&nbsp; The good people made such haste to flee the city,
+that they imagined themselves as having already, in the spirit,
+reached the land that is very far off; and so they cast from them
+the outward and visible signs which are vehicles, in this
+material world, of inward graces.&nbsp; Measureless are the
+uncovenanted blessings of God; and to these the Friends have ever
+borne a witness of power; but now the Calvinist intruder no
+longer divides the sheep from the goats in our churches; now the
+doctrine of universal brotherhood and the respect due to all men
+are taught much more effectively than when George Fox refused to
+doff his hat to the Justice; the quaint old speech has lost its
+significance, the dress would imply all the vainglory that the
+wearer desires to avoid; the young Quakers of this generation are
+no longer &lsquo;disciplined&rsquo; in matters of the common
+social life; yet still they remain separate.</p>
+<p>We of the outward and visible covenant need them, with their
+inherited mysticism, ordered contemplation, and spiritual vision;
+we need them for ourselves.&nbsp; The mother they have left
+yearns for them, and with all her faults&mdash;faults the greater
+for their absence&mdash;and with the blinded eyes of their
+recognition, she is their mother still.&nbsp; &ldquo;<i>What
+advantage then hath the Jew</i>?&rdquo; asked St Paul, and
+answered in the same breath&mdash;&ldquo;<i>Much every way</i>,
+<i>chiefly because that unto them were committed the oracles of
+God</i>.&rdquo;&nbsp; What advantage then has the Churchman? is
+the oft repeated question today; and the answer is still the
+answer of St Paul.</p>
+<p>The Incarnation is the sum of all the Sacraments, the crown of
+the material revelation of God to man, the greatest of outward
+and visible signs, &ldquo;<i>that which we have heard</i>,
+<i>which we have seen with our eyes</i>, <i>which we have looked
+upon and our hands have handled of the word of
+life</i>.&rdquo;&nbsp; A strange beginning truly, to usher in a
+purely spiritual dispensation; but beautifully fulfilled in the
+taking up of the earthly into the heavenly&mdash;Bread and Wine,
+the natural fruits of the earth, sanctified by man&rsquo;s toil,
+a sufficiency for his needs; and instinct with Divine life
+through the operation of the Holy Ghost.</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;<i>In the sweat of thy face thou shalt eat
+bread</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink
+His blood ye have no life in you</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>And the leaves of the tree were for the healing of
+the nations</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>From Genesis to the Revelation of the Divine reaches the
+rainbow of the Sacramental system&mdash;outward and visible signs
+of inward and spiritual grace:&mdash;</p>
+<p>The sacrament of purging, purifying labour, to balance and
+control the knowledge of good and evil:&mdash;</p>
+<p>The sacrament of life, divine life, with the outward body of
+humiliation, bread and wine, fruit of the accursed ground, but
+useless without man&rsquo;s labour; and St Paul, caught up into
+the third heaven, and St John, with his wide-eyed vision of the
+Lamb, must eat this bread and drink this cup if they would
+live:&mdash;</p>
+<p>The sacrament of healing, the restoring of the Image of God in
+fallen man.</p>
+<p>The Church is one society, nay, the world is one society, for
+man without his fellow-men is not; and into the society, both of
+the Church and the world, are inextricably woven the most social
+sacraments.</p>
+<p>Herein is great purpose, we say, bending the knee; and with
+deep consciousness of sins and shortcomings we stretch out
+longing welcoming hands to our grey brethren with their
+inheritance of faithfulness and steadfastness under persecution,
+and their many gifts and graces; and we cry, in the words of the
+Song of Songs which is Solomon&rsquo;s: &ldquo;O my dove, that
+art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the
+stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for
+sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.&nbsp; For
+lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone.&rdquo;</p>
+<h2><a name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 13</span>A Song
+of Low Degree</h2>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Lord</span>, I am small,
+and yet so great,<br />
+The whole world stands to my estate,<br />
+And in Thine Image I create.<br />
+The sea is mine; and the broad sky<br />
+Is mine in its immensity:<br />
+The river and the river&rsquo;s gold;<br />
+The earth&rsquo;s hid treasures manifold;<br />
+The love of creatures small and great,<br />
+Save where I reap a precious hate;<br />
+The noon-tide sun with hot caress,<br />
+The night with quiet loneliness;<br />
+The wind that bends the pliant trees,<br />
+The whisper of the summer breeze;<br />
+The kiss of snow and rain; the star<br />
+That shines a greeting from afar;<br />
+All, all are mine; and yet so small<br />
+Am I, that lo, I needs must call,<br />
+Great King, upon the Babe in Thee,<br />
+And crave that Thou would&rsquo;st give to me<br />
+The grace of Thy humility.</p>
+<h2><a name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 15</span>A
+German Christmas Eve</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was intensely cold; Father Rhine
+was frozen over, so he may speak for it; and for days we had
+lived to the merry jangle and clang of innumerable sleigh bells,
+in a white and frost-bound world.&nbsp; As I passed through the
+streets, crowded with stolidly admiring peasants from the
+villages round, I caught the dear remembered &lsquo;Gr&uuml;ss
+Gott!&rsquo; and &lsquo;All&rsquo; Heil!&rsquo; of the
+countryside, which town life quickly stamps out along with many
+other gentle observances.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Gelobt sei Jesu Christ!&rdquo; cried little Sister
+Hilarius, coming on me suddenly at a corner, her round face aglow
+with the sharp air, her arms filled with queer-shaped
+bundles.&nbsp; She begs for her sick poor as she goes
+along&mdash;meat here, some bread there, a bottle of good red
+wine: I fancy few refuse her.&nbsp; She nursed me once, the good
+little sister, with unceasing care and devotion, and all the
+dignity of a scant five feet.&nbsp; &ldquo;Ach, Du lieber Gott,
+such gifts!&rdquo; she added, with a radiant smile, and vanished
+up a dirty stairway.</p>
+<p>In the Quergasse a jay fell dead at my feet&mdash;one of the
+many birds which perished thus&mdash;he had flown townwards too
+late.&nbsp; Up at the Jagdschloss the wild creatures, crying a
+common truce of hunger, trooped each day to the clearing by the
+J&auml;ger&rsquo;s cottage for the food spread for them.&nbsp;
+The great tusked boar of the Taunus with his brother of
+Westphalia, the timid roe deer with her scarcely braver mate,
+foxes, hares, rabbits, feathered game, and tiny songbirds of the
+woods, gathered fearlessly together and fed at the hand of their
+common enemy&mdash;a millennial banquet truly.</p>
+<p>The market-place was crowded, and there were Christmas trees
+everywhere, crying aloud in bushy nakedness for their rightful
+fruit.&nbsp; The old peasant women, rolled in shawls, with large
+handkerchiefs tied over their caps, warmed their numb and
+withered hands over little braziers while they guarded the gaily
+decked treasure-laden booths, from whose pent-roofs Father Winter
+had hung a fringe of glittering icicles.</p>
+<p>Many of the stalls were entirely given over to Christmas-tree
+splendours.&nbsp; Long trails of gold and silver
+<i>Engelshaar</i>, piles of candles&mdash;red, yellow, blue,
+green, violet, and white&mdash;a rainbow of the Christian virtues
+and the Church&rsquo;s Year; boxes of frost and snow, festoons of
+coloured beads, fishes with gleaming scales, glass-winged birds,
+Santa Klaus in frost-bedecked mantle and scarlet cap, angels with
+trumpets set to their waxen lips; and everywhere and above all
+the image of the Holy Child.&nbsp; Sometimes it was the tiny
+waxen Bambino, in its pathetic helplessness; sometimes the Babe
+Miraculous, standing with outstretched arms awaiting the
+world&rsquo;s embrace&mdash;Mary&rsquo;s Son, held up in loving
+hands to bless; or the Heavenly Child-King with crown and lily
+sceptre, borne high by Joseph, that gentle, faithful
+servitor.&nbsp; It was the festival of Bethlehem, feast of
+never-ending keeping, which has its crowning splendour on
+Christmas Day.</p>
+<p>A Sister passed with a fat, rosy little girl in either hand;
+they were chattering merrily of the gift they were to buy for the
+dear Christkind, the gift which Sister said He would send some
+ragged child to receive for Him.&nbsp; They came back to the poor
+booth close to where I was standing.&nbsp; It was piled with warm
+garments; and after much consultation a little white vest was
+chosen&mdash;the elder child rejected pink, she knew the
+Christkind would like white best&mdash;then they trotted off down
+a narrow turning to the church, and I followed.</p>
+<p>The Cr&ecirc;che stood without the chancel, between the High
+Altar and that of Our Lady of Sorrows.&nbsp; It was very
+simple.&nbsp; A blue paper background spangled with stars; a
+roughly thatched roof supported on four rude posts; at the back,
+ox and ass lying among the straw with which the ground was
+strewn.&nbsp; The figures were life-size, of carved and painted
+wood: Joseph, tall and dignified, stood as guardian, leaning on
+his staff; Mary knelt with hands slightly uplifted in loving
+adoration; and the Babe lay in front on a truss of straw disposed
+as a halo.&nbsp; It was the World&rsquo;s Child, and the position
+emphasised it.&nbsp; Two or three hard-featured peasants knelt
+telling their beads; and a group of children with round, blue
+eyes and stiff, flaxen pigtails, had gathered in front, and were
+pointing and softly whispering.&nbsp; My little friends trotted
+up, crossed themselves; it was evidently the little one&rsquo;s
+first visit.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Guck! guck mal an,&rdquo; she cried, clapping her fat
+gloved hands, &ldquo;sieh mal an das Wickelkind!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dass ist unser Jesu,&rdquo; said the elder, and the
+little one echoed &ldquo;Unser Jesu, unser Jesu!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then the vest was brought out and shown&mdash;why not, it was
+the Christchild&rsquo;s own?&mdash;and the pair trotted away
+again followed by the bright, patient Sister.&nbsp; Presently
+everyone clattered out, and I was left alone at the crib of
+Bethlehem, the gate of the Kingdom of Heaven.</p>
+<p>It was my family, my only family; but like the ever-widening
+circle on the surface of a lake into which a stone has been
+flung, here, from this great centre, spread the wonderful
+ever-widening relationship&mdash;the real brotherhood of the
+world.&nbsp; It is at the Crib that everything has its beginning,
+not at the Cross; and it is only as little children that we can
+enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.</p>
+<p>When I went out again into the streets it was nearly
+dark.&nbsp; Anxious mothers hurried past on late, mysterious
+errands; papas who were not wanted until the last moment chatted
+gaily to each other at street corners, and exchanged
+recollections; maidservants hastened from shop to shop with large
+baskets already heavily laden; and the children were everywhere,
+important with secrets, comfortably secure in the knowledge of a
+tree behind the parlour doors, and a kindly, generous Saint who
+knew all their wants, and needed no rod <i>this</i> year.</p>
+<p>One little lad, with a pinched white face, and with only an
+empty certainty to look forward to, was singing shrilly in the
+sharp, still air, &ldquo;Zu Bethlehem geboren, ist uns ein
+Kindelein,&rdquo; as he gazed wistfully at a shop window piled
+high with crisp gingerbread, marzipan, chocolate under every
+guise, and tempting cakes.&nbsp; A great rough peasant coming
+out, saw him, turned back, and a moment later thrust a
+gingerbread Santa Klaus, with currant eyes and sugar trimming to
+his coat and cap, into the half-fearful little hands.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Hab&rsquo; ebenso ein Kerlchen zu Haus&rsquo;,&rdquo; he
+said to me apologetically as he passed.</p>
+<p>I waited to see Santa Klaus disappear; but no, the child
+looked at the cake, sighed deeply with the cruel effort of
+resistance, and refrained.&nbsp; It was all his Christmas and he
+would keep it.&nbsp; He gazed and gazed, then a smile rippled
+across the wan little face and he broke out in another carol,
+&ldquo;Es kam ein Engel hell und klar vom Himmel zu der Hirten
+Schaar,&rdquo; and hugging his Santa Klaus carefully, wandered
+away down the now brilliant streets: he did not know he was
+hungry any more; the angel had come with good tidings.</p>
+<p>As I passed along the streets I could see through the
+uncurtained windows that in some houses Christmas had begun
+already for the little ones.&nbsp; Then the bells rang out
+deep-mouthed, carrying the call of the eager Church to her
+children, far up the valley and across the frozen river.&nbsp;
+And they answered; the great church was packed from end to end,
+and from my place by the door I saw that two tiny Christmas trees
+bright with coloured candles burnt either side of the Holy
+Child.</p>
+<p>A blue-black sky ablaze with stars for His glory, a fresh
+white robe for stained and tired earth; so we went to Bethlehem
+in the rare stillness of the early morning.&nbsp; The Church,
+having no stars, had lighted candles; and we poor sinful men
+having no white robes of our own had craved them of the Great
+King at her hands.</p>
+<p>And so in the stillness, with tapers within and stars alight
+without, with a white-clad earth, and souls forgiven, the Christ
+Child came to those who looked for His appearing.</p>
+<h2><a name="page27"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 27</span>A
+Christmas Idyll</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Child with the wondering eyes
+sat on the doorstep, on either side of her a tramp cat in process
+of becoming a recognised member of society.&nbsp; On the flagged
+path in front the brown brethren were picking up crumbs.&nbsp;
+The cats&rsquo; whiskers trembled, but they sat still, proudly
+virtuous, and conscious each of a large saucer of warm milk
+within.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What,&rdquo; said the Child, &ldquo;is a
+symbol?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The cats looked grave.</p>
+<p>The Child rose, went into the house, and returned with a
+well-thumbed brown book.&nbsp; She turned the pages thoughtfully,
+and read aloud, presumably for the benefit of the cats: &ldquo;In
+a symbol there is concealment yet revelation, the infinite is
+made to blend with the finite, to stand visible, and as it were
+attainable there.&rdquo;&nbsp; The Child sighed, &ldquo;We had
+better go to the Recluse,&rdquo; she said.&nbsp; So the three
+went.</p>
+<p>It was a cold, clear, bright day, a typical Christmas
+Eve.&nbsp; There was a carpet of crisp snow on the ground, and a
+fringe of icicles hung from every vantage-point.&nbsp; The cats,
+not having been accustomed to the delights of domesticity,
+trotted along cheerfully despite the chill to their toes; and
+they soon came to the forest which all three knew very well
+indeed.&nbsp; It was a beautiful forest like a great cathedral,
+with long aisles cut between the splendid upstanding pine
+trees.&nbsp; The green-fringed boughs were heavy with snow, the
+straight strong stems caught and reflected the stray sun rays,
+and looking up through the arches and delicate tracery and
+interlaced branches the eye caught the wonderful blue of the
+great domed roof overhead.&nbsp; The cats walked delicately,
+fearful of temptation in the way of rabbits or frost-tamed birds,
+and the Child lilted a quaint German hymn to a strange old
+tune:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Ein Kind gebor&rsquo;n zu Bethlehem.<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Alleluja!<br />
+Dess freuet sich Jerusalem,<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Alleluja!&nbsp; Alleluja!&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>The Recluse was sitting on a bench outside his cave.&nbsp; He
+was dressed in a brown robe, his eyes were like stars wrapped in
+brown velvet, his face was strong and gentle, his hair white
+although he looked quite young.&nbsp; He greeted the Child very
+kindly and stroked the cats.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have come to ask me a question, Child?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you please,&rdquo; said the Child, &ldquo;what is a
+symbol?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said the Recluse, &ldquo;I might have known
+you would ask me that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Sage says,&rdquo; went on the Child, &ldquo;that it
+is concealment yet revelation.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Recluse nodded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Just as a mystery that we cannot understand is the
+greatest possible wisdom.&nbsp; Go in and sit by my fire, Child;
+there are chestnuts on the hearth, and you will find milk in the
+brown jug.&nbsp; I will show you a symbol presently.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Child and the two cats went into the cave and sat down by
+the fire.&nbsp; It was warm and restful after the biting
+air.&nbsp; The cats purred pleasantly, the Child sat with her
+chin in her hand watching the glowing wood burn red and white on
+the great hearthstone.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Recluse generally answers my questions by showing
+me something I have seen for a long time but never beheld, or
+heard and never lent ear.&nbsp; I wonder what it will be this
+time,&rdquo; she said to herself.</p>
+<p>The grateful warmth made the Child sleepy, and she gave a
+start when she found the Recluse standing by her with
+outstretched hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, dear Child,&rdquo; he said; and leaving the
+sleeping cats she followed him, her hand in his.</p>
+<p>The air was full of wonderful sound, voices and song, and the
+cry of the bells.</p>
+<p>The Child wondered, and then remembered it was Christmas
+night.&nbsp; The Recluse led her down a little passage and opened
+a door.&nbsp; They stepped out together, but not into the
+forest.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is the front door of my house,&rdquo; said the
+Recluse, with a little smile.</p>
+<p>They stood on a white road, on one side a stretch of limestone
+down, on the other steep terraces with gardens and
+vineyard.&nbsp; The air was soft and warm, and sweet with the
+breath of lilies.&nbsp; The heaven was ablaze with stars; across
+the plain to the east the dawn was breaking.&nbsp; A group of
+strangely-clad men went down the road followed by a flock of
+sheep.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let us go with them,&rdquo; said the Recluse; and hand
+in hand they went.</p>
+<p>The road curved to the right; round the bend, cut in the
+living rock, was a cave; the shepherds stopped and knelt, and
+there was no sound but the soft rapid breathing of the
+flock.&nbsp; Then the Child was filled with an overmastering
+longing, a desire so great that the tears sprang hot to her
+eyes.&nbsp; She dropped the Recluse&rsquo;s hand and went forward
+where the shepherds knelt.&nbsp; Once again the air was full of
+wonderful sound, voices and song, and the cry of the bells; but
+within all was silence.&nbsp; The cave was rough-hewn, and
+stabled an ox and an ass; close to the front a tall strong man
+leaning on a staff kept watch and ward; within knelt a peasant
+Maid, and on a heap of yellow straw lay a tiny new-born Babe
+loosely wrapped in a linen cloth: around and above were wonderful
+figures of fire and mist.</p>
+<p>The infinite, visible and attainable.</p>
+<p>The mystery which is the greatest possible wisdom.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, Child,&rdquo; said the Recluse.</p>
+<p>The fire had burnt low; it was quite dark, save for the glow
+of the live embers.</p>
+<p>He threw on a great dry pine log; it flared like a
+torch.&nbsp; The cats&rsquo; stretched in the sudden blaze, and
+then settled to sleep again.&nbsp; The Child and the Recluse
+passed out into the forest.&nbsp; The moon was very bright and
+the snow reflected its rays, so that it was light in spite of the
+great trees.&nbsp; The air was full of wonderful sound, voices
+and song, and the cry of the bells; and the Child sang as she
+went in a half-dream by the side of the Recluse:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;In dieser heil&rsquo;gen Weihnachtszeit,<br
+/>
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Alleluja!<br />
+Sei, Gott der Herr, gebenedeit,<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Alleluja! Alleluja!&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>and wondered when she would wake up.&nbsp; They came to the
+old, old church in the forest, and the pictured saints looked out
+at them from the lighted window; through the open door they could
+see figures moving about with tapers in their hands; save for
+these the church was still empty.</p>
+<p>The Recluse led the way up the nave to the north side of the
+Altar.&nbsp; The Child started a little; she was really dreaming
+then a kind of circular dream, for again she stood before the
+cave, again the reverend figure kept watch and ward over the
+kneeling Maid and the little Babe.&nbsp; The sheep and the
+shepherds were not there, but a little lamb had strayed in; and
+the wonderful figures of fire and mist&mdash;they were there in
+their place.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Little one,&rdquo; said the Recluse softly, &ldquo;here
+is a symbol&mdash;concealment yet revelation&mdash;the King as
+servant&mdash;the strong helpless&mdash;the Almighty a little
+child; and thus the infinite stands revealed for all of us,
+visible and attainable, if we will have it so.&nbsp; It is the
+centre of all mystery, the greatest possible wisdom, the Eternal
+Child.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You showed it me before,&rdquo; said the Child,
+&ldquo;only we were out of doors, and the shepherds were there
+with the sheep; but the angels are here just the same.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Recluse bowed his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wait for me here with them, dear Child, I will fetch
+you after service.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The church began to fill; old men in smock frocks and tall
+hats, little children wrapped warm against the cold, lads,
+shining and spruce, old women in crossed shawls and wonderful
+bonnets.&nbsp; The service was not very long; then the Recluse
+went up into the old grey stone pulpit.&nbsp; The villagers
+settled to listen&mdash;he did not often preach.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My brothers and sisters, to-night we keep the Birth of
+the Holy Babe, and to-night you and I stand at the gate of the
+Kingdom of Heaven, the gate which is undone only at the cry of a
+little child.&nbsp; &lsquo;Except ye be converted and become as
+little children, ye shall not enter.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Kingdom is a great one, nay, a limitless one; and
+many enter in calling it by another name.&nbsp; It includes your
+own hearts and this wonderful forest, all the wise and beautiful
+works that men have ever thought of or done, and your daily toil;
+it includes your nearest and dearest, the outcast, the prisoner,
+and the stranger; it holds your cottage home and the jewelled
+City, the New Jerusalem itself.&nbsp; People are apt to think the
+Kingdom of Heaven is like church on Sunday, a place to enter once
+a week in one&rsquo;s best: whereas it holds every flower, and
+has room for the ox and the ass, and the least of all creatures,
+as well as for our prayer and worship and praise.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Except ye become as little
+children.&rsquo;&nbsp; How are we to be born again, simple
+children with wondering eyes?</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We must learn to lie in helpless dependence, to open
+our mouth wide that it may be filled, to speak with halting
+tongue the language we think we know; we must learn above all our
+own ignorance, and keep alight and cherish the flame of innocency
+in our hearts.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is a tired world, my brethren, and we are most of us
+tired men and women who live on it, for we seek ever after some
+new thing.&nbsp; Let us pass out through the gate into the
+Kingdom of Heaven and not be tired any more, because there we
+shall find the new thing that we seek.&nbsp; Heaven is on earth,
+the Kingdom is here and now; the gate stands wide to-night, for
+it is the birthright of the Eternal Child.&nbsp; We are none of
+us too poor, or stupid, or lowly; it was the simple shepherds who
+saw Him first.&nbsp; We are none of us too great, or learned, or
+rich; it was the three wise kings who came next and offered
+gifts.&nbsp; We are none of us too young; it was little children
+who first laid down their lives for Him; or too old, for Simeon
+saw and recognised Him.&nbsp; There is only one thing against
+most of us&mdash;we are too proud.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My brethren, &lsquo;let us now go even to Bethlehem,
+and face this thing which is come to pass, which the <span
+class="smcap">Lord</span> hath made known unto
+us.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p>The lights were out in the church when the Recluse came to
+fetch the Child.&nbsp; She was still kneeling by the
+cr&ecirc;che, keeping watch with the wonderful figures of fire
+and mist.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Was <i>this</i> a dream or the other?&rdquo; said the
+Child.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Neither,&rdquo; said the Recluse, and he blessed her in
+the moonlit dark.</p>
+<p>The air was full of wonderful sound, voices and song, and the
+cry of the bells.</p>
+<h2><a name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 43</span>The
+Manifestation</h2>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">God</span> said; &ldquo;Let
+there be light&rdquo;; and in the East<br />
+A star rose flaming from night&rsquo;s purple sea&mdash;<br />
+The star of Truth, the star of Joy, the star<br />
+Seen by the prophets down the lonely years;<br />
+Set for a light to show the Perfect Way;<br />
+Set for a sign that wayfarers might find;<br />
+Set for a seal to mark the Godhead&rsquo;s home.<br />
+And three Kings in their palaces afar,<br />
+Who waited ardently for promised things,<br />
+Beheld, and read aright.&nbsp; Straightway the road<br />
+Was hot with pad of camel, horse&rsquo;s hoof,<br />
+While night was quick as day with spurring men<br />
+And light with flaring torch.&nbsp; &ldquo;Haste, haste!&rdquo;
+they cried,<br />
+&ldquo;We seek the King, the King! for in the East<br />
+His star&rsquo;s alight.&rdquo;</p>
+<h3><span class="smcap">Bethlehem</span></h3>
+<p style="text-align: center"><i>The Angels</i></p>
+<p class="poetry">Soft and slow, soft and slow,<br />
+With angels&rsquo; wings of fire and snow,<br />
+To rock Him gently to and fro.<br />
+Fire to stay the chill at night,<br />
+Snow to cool the noonday bright;<br />
+And overhead His star&rsquo;s alight.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Pale and sweet, pale and sweet,<br />
+Maid Mary keeps her vigil meet,<br />
+While Joseph waits with patient feet.<br />
+Mary&rsquo;s love for soft embrace,<br />
+Joseph&rsquo;s strength to guard the place.<br />
+Lo! from the East Kings ride apace.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Gold and myrrh, gold and myrrh,<br />
+Frankincense for harbinger,<br />
+Myrrh to make His sepulchre.<br />
+Roses white and roses red,<br />
+Thorns arrayed for His dear Head.<br />
+Hail! hail! Wise Men who seek His bed</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><i>Joseph</i></p>
+<p class="poetry">Little One, Little One, Saviour and Child,<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Father and Mother, my Husband and Son;<br />
+Born of the lily, the maid undefiled,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Babe of my Love, the Beatified One.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Little One, Little One, Master and <span
+class="smcap">Lord</span>,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Kings of the Earth come, desiring Thy Face;<br />
+I, Thy poor servitor, lowly afford<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; All that my life holds, for all is Thy Grace.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Little One, Little One, <span
+class="smcap">God</span> over all,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Earth is thy footstool, and Heav&rsquo;n is Thy
+throne:<br />
+Joseph the carpenter, prostrate I fall;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Praise thee, adore Thee, and claim Thee mine
+own.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><i>Maid Mary</i></p>
+<p
+class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Babe,
+dear Babe!<br />
+Mine own, mine own, my heart&rsquo;s delight,<br />
+The myrrh between my breasts at night,<br />
+My little Rose, my Lily white,<br />
+My Babe for whom the star&rsquo;s alight.</p>
+<p
+class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Babe,
+dear Babe!<br />
+Mine own, mine own, <span class="smcap">God&rsquo;s</span> only
+<span class="smcap">Son</span>,<br />
+Foretold, foreseen, since earth begun;<br />
+Desire of nations, Promised One<br />
+When Eve was first by sin undone.</p>
+<p
+class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Babe,
+dear Babe!<br />
+Mine own, mine own, the whole world&rsquo;s Child!<br />
+Born of each heart that&rsquo;s undefiled,<br />
+Nursed at the breast of Mercy mild,<br />
+And in the arms of Love asiled.</p>
+<p
+class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Babe,
+dear Babe!<br />
+My crown of glory, sorrow&rsquo;s sword,<br />
+My Maker, King, Redeemer, Lord,<br />
+My Saviour and my great Reward;<br />
+My little Son, my Babe adored.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><i>The Three Kings</i></p>
+<p class="poetry">Hail!&nbsp; Hail thou wondrous little King!<br
+/>
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+To Thy dear Feet<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Our offerings meet<br />
+With bended knee we bring;<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+O mighty baby King,<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Accept the offering.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><i>First King</i></p>
+<p
+class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<span
+class="smcap">Lord</span>, I stoop low<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+My head of snow,<br />
+Thus I, the great, hail Thee, the Least!<br />
+And swing the censer for the Priest,<br />
+The Priest with hands upraised to bless,<br />
+The Priest of this world&rsquo;s bitterness.<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+As I stoop low<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+My head of snow,<br />
+Bless me, O Priest, before I go.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><i>Second King</i></p>
+<p
+class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Behold
+me, King!<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+A man of might,<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Who rules dominions infinite;<br />
+Strong in the harvest of the years,<br />
+And one who counts no kings as peers.<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+O little King,<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Behold my crown!<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+I lay it down,<br />
+And bow before Thy lowly bed<br />
+My all unworthy uncrowned head,<br />
+For I am naught and Thou art All.<br />
+And Thou shalt climb a throne set high,<br />
+Between sad earth and silent sky,<br />
+Thereon to agonize and die;<br />
+And at Thy Feet the world shall fall.<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Stretch out Thy little Hands, O King,<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Behold the world&rsquo;s imagining!</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><i>Third King</i></p>
+<p class="poetry">Out of the shadow of the night<br />
+I come, led by the starshine bright,<br />
+With broken heart to bring to Thee<br />
+The fruit of Thine Epiphany,<br />
+The gift my fellows send by me,<br />
+The myrrh to bed Thine agony.<br />
+I set it here beneath Thy Feet,<br />
+In token of Death&rsquo;s great defeat;<br />
+And hail Thee Conqueror in the strife;<br />
+And hail Thee Lord of Light and Life.<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+All hail!&nbsp; All hail the Virgin&rsquo;s Son!<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+All hail!&nbsp; Thou little helpless One!<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+All hail!&nbsp; Thou King upon the Tree!<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+All hail!&nbsp; The Babe on Mary&rsquo;s knee,<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+The centre of all mystery!</p>
+<h2><a name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 52</span>All
+Souls&rsquo; Day in a German Town</h2>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> leaves fall
+softly: a wind of sighs<br />
+Whispers the world&rsquo;s infirmities,<br />
+Whispers the tale of the waning years,<br />
+While slow mists gather in shrouding tears<br />
+On All Souls&rsquo; Day; and the bells are slow<br />
+In steeple and tower.&nbsp; Sad folk go<br />
+Away from the township, past the mill,<br />
+And mount the slope of a grassy hill<br />
+Carved into terraces broad and steep,<br />
+To the inn where wearied travellers sleep,<br />
+Where the sleepers lie in ordered rows,<br />
+And no man stirs in his long repose.<br />
+They wend their way past the haunts of life,<br />
+Father and daughter, grandmother, wife,<br />
+To deck with candle and deathless cross,<br />
+The house which holds their dearest loss.<br />
+I, who stand on the crest of the hill,<br />
+Watch how beneath me, busied still,<br />
+The sad folk wreathe each grave with flowers.<br />
+Awhile the veil of the twilight hours<br />
+Falls softly, softly, over the hill,<br />
+Shadows the cross:&mdash;creeps on until<br />
+Swiftly upon us is flung the dark.<br />
+Then, as if lit by a sudden spark,<br />
+Each grave is vivid with points of light,<br />
+Earth is as Heaven&rsquo;s mirror to-night;<br />
+The air is still as a spirit&rsquo;s breath,<br />
+The lights burn bright in the realm of Death.<br />
+Then silent the mourners mourning go,<br />
+Wending their way to the church below;<br />
+While the bells toll out to bid them speed,<br />
+With eager Pater and prayerful bead,<br />
+The souls of the dead, whose bodies still<br />
+Lie in the churchyard under the hill;<br />
+While they wait and wonder in Paradise,<br />
+And gaze on the dawning mysteries,<br />
+Praying for us in our hours of need;<br />
+For us, who with Pater and prayerful bead<br />
+Have bidden those waiting spirits speed.</p>
+<h2><a name="page55"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 55</span>Rivers
+and Streams</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">Running</span> water has a charm all its
+own; it proffers companionship of which one never tires; it
+adapts itself to moods; it is the guardian of secrets.&nbsp; It
+has cool draughts for the thirsty soul as well as for drooping
+flowers; and they who wander in the garden of God with listening
+ears learn of its many voices.</p>
+<p>When the strain of a working day has left me weary, perhaps
+troubled and perplexed, I find my way to the river.&nbsp; I step
+into a boat and pull up stream until the exertion has refreshed
+me; and then I make fast to the old alder-stump where last year
+the reed-piper nested, and lie back in the stern and think.</p>
+<p>The water laps against the keel as the boat rocks gently in
+the current; the river flows past, strong and quiet.&nbsp; There
+are side eddies, of course, and little disturbing whirlpools near
+the big stones, but they are all gathered into the broad sweep of
+the stream, carried down to the great catholic sea.&nbsp; And
+while I listen to the murmur of the water and watch its quiet
+strength the day&rsquo;s wrinkles are smoothed out of my face;
+and at last the river bears me homeward rested and at peace.</p>
+<p>There are long stretches of time for me when I must remain
+apart from the world of work, often unwilling, sometimes with a
+very sore heart.&nbsp; Then I turn my steps towards my friend and
+wander along the banks, a solitary not alone.&nbsp; In the quiet
+evening light I watch the stream &lsquo;never hasting, never
+resting&rsquo;: the grass that grows beside it is always green,
+the flowers are fresh; it makes long embracing curves&mdash;I
+could cross from point to point in a minute, but to follow takes
+five.&nbsp; The ways of the water are ways of healing; I have a
+companion who makes no mistakes, touches none of my tender
+spots.</p>
+<p>Presently I reach the silent pool, where the stream takes a
+wide sweep.&nbsp; Here the fair white water-lilies lie on their
+broad green leaves and wait for their lover the moon; for then
+they open their silvery leaves and bloom in the soft light fairer
+far than beneath the hot rays of the sun.&nbsp; Then, too, the
+buds rise out of the water and the moon kisses them into bloom
+and fragrance.&nbsp; Near by are the little yellow water-lilies,
+set for beauty against a background of great blue-eyed
+forget-me-nots and tall feathery meadowsweet.&nbsp; The river
+still sweeps on its way, but the pool is undisturbed; it lies out
+of the current.&nbsp; They say it is very deep&mdash;no one knows
+quite how deep&mdash;and it has its hidden tragedy.&nbsp; I gaze
+down through the clear water, following the thick
+lily-stalks&mdash;a forest where solemn carp sail in and out and
+perch chase each other through the maze&mdash;and beyond them I
+cannot see the bottom, the secret of its stillness; but I may
+watch the clouds mirrored on its surface, and the evening glow
+lying at my feet.</p>
+<p>I think of the fathomless depths of the peace of God, fair
+with flowers of hope; of still places wrought in man; of mirrors
+that reflect, in light uncomprehended, the Image of the Holy
+Face.</p>
+<p>I go home across the common, comforted, towards the little
+town where the red roofs lie glimmering in the evening shadows,
+and the old grey church stands out clear and distinct against the
+fading sky.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>One of the happiest memories of my childhood is the little
+brook in the home field.&nbsp; I know it was not a very clean
+little brook&mdash;it passed through an industrious manufacturing
+world&mdash;but to me then this mattered not at all.</p>
+<p>Where it had its source I never found out; it came from a
+little cave in the side of the hill, and I remember that one of
+its banks was always higher than the other.&nbsp; I once sought
+to penetrate the cave, but with sad results in the shape of bed
+before dinner and no pudding, such small sympathy have
+one&rsquo;s elders with the spirit of research.&nbsp; Just beyond
+the cave the brook was quite a respectable width,&mdash;even my
+big boy cousin fell into mud and disgrace when he tried to jump
+it&mdash;and there was a gravelly beach, at least several inches
+square, where we launched our boats of hollowed elder-wood.&nbsp;
+Soon, however, it narrowed, it could even be stepped over; but it
+was still exciting and delightful, with two perilous rapids over
+which the boats had to be guided, and many boulders&mdash;for the
+brook was a brave stream, and had fashioned its bed in rocky
+soil.&nbsp; Further down was our bridge, one flat stone dragged
+thither by really herculean efforts.&nbsp; It was unnecessary,
+but a triumph.&nbsp; A little below this outcome of our
+engineering skill the brook widened again before disappearing
+under a flagged tunnel into the neighbouring field.&nbsp; Here,
+in the shallows, we built an aquarium.&nbsp; It was not
+altogether successful, because whenever it rained at all hard the
+beasts were washed out; but there was always joy in restocking
+it.&nbsp; Under one of the banks close by lived a fat frog for
+whom I felt great respect.&nbsp; We used to sit and gaze at each
+other in silent intercourse, until he became bored&mdash;I think
+I never did&mdash;and flopped into the water with a splash.</p>
+<p>But it was the brook itself that was my chief and dearest
+companion.&nbsp; It chattered and sang to me, and told me of the
+goblins who lived under the hill, of fairies dancing on the grass
+on moonlight nights, and scolding the pale lilac milk-maids on
+the banks; and of a sad little old man dressed in brown, always
+sad because his dear water-children ran away from him when they
+heard the voice of the great river telling them of the calling of
+the sea.</p>
+<p>It spoke to me of other more wonderful things, not even now to
+be put into words, things of the mysteries of a child&rsquo;s
+imagination; and these linger still in my life, and will linger,
+I think, until they are fulfilled.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>I have another friend&mdash;a Devonshire stream.&nbsp; I found
+it in spring when the fields along its banks were golden with
+Lent-lilies.&nbsp; I do not even know its name; it has its source
+up among the old grey tors, and doubtless in its beginning had a
+hard fight for existence.&nbsp; When it reaches the plain it is a
+good-sized stream, although nowhere navigable.&nbsp; I do not
+think it even turns a mill; it just flows along and waters the
+flowers.&nbsp; I have seen it with my bodily eyes only once; but
+it has left in my life a blessing, a picture of blue sky, yellow
+bells, and clear rippling water&mdash;and whispered secrets not
+forgotten.</p>
+<p>All the Devonshire streams are full of life and
+strength.&nbsp; They chatter cheerily over stones, they toil
+bravely to shape out their bed.&nbsp; Some of them might tell
+horrible tales of the far-away past, of the worship of the false
+god when blood stained the clear waters; tales, too, of feud and
+warfare, of grave council and martial gathering; and happy
+stories of fairy and pixy our eyes are too dull to see, and of
+queer little hillmen with foreign ways and terror of all human
+beings.&nbsp; Their banks are bright with tormentil, blue with
+forget-me-not, rich in treasures of starry moss; the water is
+clear, cool in the hottest summer&mdash;they rise under the
+shadow of the everlasting hills, and their goal is the sea.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>There are other times when I must leave the clean waters and
+the good brown earth, to live, for a while, in London: and there
+I go on pilgrimage that I may listen to the river&rsquo;s
+voice.</p>
+<p>I stand sometimes at a wharf where the ships are being
+unloaded of the riches of every country, of fruits of labour by
+my unknown brothers in strange lands; and the river speaks of
+citizenship in the great world of God, wherein all men have
+place, each man have his own place, and every one should be
+neighbour to him who may have need.</p>
+<p>I pass on to London Bridge, our Bridge of Sighs.&nbsp; How
+many of these my brethren have sought refuge in the cold grey
+arms of the river from something worse than death?&nbsp; What
+drove them to this dreadful resting-place?&nbsp; What spectre
+hurried them to the leap?&nbsp; These things, too, are my
+concern, the river says.</p>
+<p>Life is very grim in London: it is not painted in the fair,
+glowing colours of grass and sky and trees, and shining streams
+that bring peace.&nbsp; It is drawn in hard black and white; but
+the voice of its dark waters must be heard all the same.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>I would not leave my rivers in the shadow.&nbsp; After all,
+this life is only a prelude, a beginning: we pass on to where
+&ldquo;the rivers and streams make glad the city of
+God.&rdquo;&nbsp; But if we will not listen here how shall we
+understand hereafter.</p>
+<h2><a name="page68"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+68</span>Spring</h2>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Hark</span> how the merry
+daffodils,<br />
+Fling golden music to the hills!<br />
+And how the hills send echoing down,<br />
+Through wind-swept turf and moorland brown,<br />
+The murmurs of a thousand rills<br />
+That mock the song-birds&rsquo; liquid trills!<br />
+The hedge released from Winter&rsquo;s frown<br />
+Shews jewelled branch and willow crown;<br />
+While all the earth with pleasure trills,<br />
+And &lsquo;dances with the daffodils.&rsquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">Out, out, ye flowers!&nbsp; Up and shout!<br />
+Staid Winter&rsquo;s passed and Spring&rsquo;s about<br />
+To lead your ranks in joyous rout;<br />
+To string the hawthorn&rsquo;s milky pearls,<br />
+And gild the grass with celandine;<br />
+To dress the catkins&rsquo; tasselled curls,<br />
+To twist the tendrils of the vine.<br />
+She wakes the wind-flower from her sleep,<br />
+And lights the woods with April&rsquo;s moon;<br />
+The violets lift their heads to peep,<br />
+The daisies brave the sun at noon.</p>
+<p class="poetry">The gentle wind from out the west<br />
+Toys with the lilac pretty maids;<br />
+Ruffles the meadow&rsquo;s verdant-vest,<br />
+And rings the bluebells in the glades;<br />
+The ash-buds change their sombre suit,<br />
+The orchards blossom white and red&mdash;<br />
+Promise of Autumn&rsquo;s riper fruit,<br />
+When Spring&rsquo;s voluptuousness has fled.<br />
+Awake! awake, O throstle sweet!<br />
+And haste with all your choir to greet<br />
+This Queen who comes with wakening feet.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Persephone with grateful eyes<br />
+Salutes the Sun&mdash;&rsquo;tis Paradise:<br />
+Then hastens down the dewy meads,<br />
+Past where the herd contented feeds,<br />
+Past where the furrows hide the grain,<br />
+For harvesting of sun and rain;<br />
+To where Demeter patient stands<br />
+With longing lips and outstretched hands,<br />
+Until the dawning of one face<br />
+Across the void of time and space<br />
+Shall bring again her day of grace.<br />
+Rejoice, O Earth!&nbsp; Rejoice and sing!<br />
+This is the promise of the Spring,<br />
+And this the world&rsquo;s remembering.</p>
+<h2><a name="page72"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 72</span>A
+Lark&rsquo;s Song</h2>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Sweet</span>, sweet!<br />
+I rise to greet<br />
+The sapphire sky<br />
+The air slips by<br />
+On either side<br />
+As up I ride<br />
+On mounting wing,<br />
+And sing and sing&mdash;<br />
+Then reach my bliss,<br />
+The sun&rsquo;s great kiss;<br />
+And poise a space<br />
+To see his face,<br />
+Sweet, sweet,<br />
+In radiant grace,<br />
+Ah, sweet! ah, sweet!</p>
+<p class="poetry">Sweet, sweet!<br />
+Beneath my feet<br />
+My nestlings call:<br />
+And down I fall<br />
+Unerring, true,<br />
+Through heaven&rsquo;s blue;<br />
+And haste to fill<br />
+Each noisy bill.<br />
+My brooding breast<br />
+Stills their unrest.<br />
+Sweet, sweet,<br />
+Their quick hearts beat,<br />
+Safe in the nest:<br />
+Ah, sweet, sweet, sweet!<br />
+Ah, sweet!</p>
+<p class="poetry">Sweet, sweet<br />
+The calling sky<br />
+That bids me fly<br />
+Up&mdash;up&mdash;on high.<br />
+Sweet, sweet<br />
+The claiming earth;<br />
+It holds my nest<br />
+And draws me down<br />
+To where Love&rsquo;s crown<br />
+Of priceless worth<br />
+Awaits my breast.<br />
+Sweet, sweet!<br />
+Ah, this is best<br />
+And this most meet,<br />
+Sweet, sweet! ah, sweet!</p>
+<h2><a name="page75"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+75</span>&lsquo;Luvly Miss&rsquo;</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">Nobody</span> thought of
+consequences.&nbsp; There was a lighted paraffin lamp on the
+table and nothing else handy.&nbsp; Mrs Brown&rsquo;s head
+presented a tempting mark, and of course Mr Brown&rsquo;s lengthy
+stay at &lsquo;The Three Fingers&rsquo; had something to do with
+it; but nobody thought of Miss Brown, aged four, who was playing
+happily on the floor, unruffled by the storm to which she was so
+well accustomed.</p>
+<p>Mrs Brown ducked; there was a smash, a scream, and poor little
+Miss Brown was in a blaze.&nbsp; The shock sobered the father and
+silenced the mother.&nbsp; Miss Brown was extinguished with the
+aid of a table-cover, much water, and many neighbours; but she
+was horribly burnt all over, except her face.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>I made Miss Brown&rsquo;s acquaintance a few days later.&nbsp;
+She was lying on a bed made up on two chairs, and was covered
+with cotton wool.&nbsp; She had scarcely any pain, and could not
+move at all; and the small face that peered out of what she
+called her &ldquo;pitty warm snow&rdquo; was wan and drawn and
+had a far-away look in the dark eyes.</p>
+<p>Miss Brown possessed one treasure, her &lsquo;luvly
+miss.&rsquo;&nbsp; I suppose I must call it a doll, though in
+what its claim to the title consisted I dared not ask; Miss Brown
+would have deeply resented the enquiry.&nbsp; It was a very large
+potato with a large and a small bulge.&nbsp; Into the large bulge
+were inserted three pieces of fire-wood, the body and arms of
+&lsquo;luvly miss&rsquo;; legs she had none.</p>
+<p>How Miss Brown came by this treasure I never heard.&nbsp; She
+had an impression that it &ldquo;flied froo the
+winder&rdquo;&mdash;I fancy Mr Brown had a hand in the
+manufacture in one of his lucid moments; but it was a treasure
+indeed and the joy of Miss Brown&rsquo;s life.&nbsp; She held
+long conversations with &lsquo;luvly miss&rsquo; on all familiar
+subjects; and apparently obtained much strange and rare
+information from her.&nbsp; For example, Miss Brown and
+&lsquo;luvly miss&rsquo; in some previous stage of their
+existence had inhabited a large chimney-pot together,
+&ldquo;where it was always so warm and a bootie &lsquo;mell of
+cookin&rsquo;.&rsquo;&rdquo;&nbsp; Also she had a rooted belief
+that one day she and &lsquo;luvly miss&rsquo; would be
+&ldquo;hangels wiv&rsquo; black weils and basticks.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+This puzzled me for some time, until I discovered it to be an
+allusion to the good deaconess who attended her, and whom Mrs
+Brown in gratitude designated by this title.</p>
+<p>Alas for little Miss Brown and her &lsquo;luvly miss&rsquo;!
+their respective ends were drawing near.&nbsp; I went in one
+Friday, a week or so after the accident, and found Mrs Brown in
+tears and despair, and Miss Brown with a look of anguish on her
+poor little pinched face that was bad to see.&nbsp; &lsquo;Luvly
+Miss&rsquo; was no more.</p>
+<p>It was Mr Brown again; or, to trace back the links of
+occasion, it was the action of &lsquo;The Three Fingers&rsquo; on
+Mr Brown&rsquo;s frail constitution.&nbsp; He had come in late,
+seen &lsquo;luvly miss&rsquo; on the table, and, with his usual
+heedlessness of consequence, had chucked her into the dying
+embers where&mdash;alas that I should have to say it!&mdash;she
+slowly baked.&nbsp; Little Miss Brown, when the miserable truth
+was broken to her, neither wept nor remonstrated; she lay quite
+still with a look of utter forsaken wretchedness on her tiny
+white face, and moaned very softly for &lsquo;luvly
+miss.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>I came face to face with this state of things and I confess it
+staggered me.&nbsp; I knew Miss Brown too well to hope that any
+pink-and-white darling from the toy-shop could replace
+&lsquo;luvly miss,&rsquo; or that she could be persuaded to admit
+even a very image of the dear departed into her affections.&nbsp;
+Then, too, the doctor said Miss Brown had but a few days at the
+most, perhaps only hours, to live; and comforted she must be.</p>
+<p>All at once I had an inspiration, and never in my life have I
+welcomed one more.&nbsp; I knelt down by little Miss Brown and
+told her the story of the Phoenix.&nbsp; I had not reckoned in
+vain upon her imagination: would I &ldquo;yerely and twooly
+bwing&rdquo; her &ldquo;werry own luvly miss out of the
+ashes?&rdquo;&nbsp; I lied cheerfully and hastened away to the
+dust-bin, accompanied by Mrs Brown.</p>
+<p>In a few minutes we returned with a pail of ashes, the ashes,
+of course, of &lsquo;luvly miss&rsquo; mingled with those of the
+cruel fire which had consumed her.&nbsp; I danced solemnly round
+them, murmured mysterious words, parted the ashes, and revealed
+the form of &lsquo;luvly miss.&rsquo;&nbsp; Love&rsquo;s eyes
+were not sharp to mark a change, and little Miss Brown&rsquo;s
+misplaced faith in me was strong.&nbsp; Never shall I forget the
+scream of joy which greeted the restored treasure, or the relief
+with which I saw an expression of peace settle once more on Miss
+Brown&rsquo;s face.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>I saw them again next day.&nbsp; Little Miss Brown was asleep
+in her last little bed, still wrapped in the &ldquo;pitty warm
+snow,&rdquo; and &lsquo;luvly miss&rsquo; lay beside her.</p>
+<h2>Four Stories Told to Children</h2>
+<h3><a name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 85</span>The
+Story of the Dreadful Griffin.</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Children</span>,&mdash;I am going
+to tell you a really breathless story for your holiday
+treat.&nbsp; It will have to begin with the moral, because
+everyone will be too much exhausted to read one at the end, and
+as the moral is the only part that really matters, it is
+important to come to it quite fresh.</p>
+<p>We will, therefore, endeavour to learn from this
+story:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>If we fly at all, to fly <i>high</i>.<br />
+To be extremely polite.<br />
+To be kind and grateful to cats and all other animals.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>All the trouble arose one day when the Princess (there is
+always a Princess in a fairy-tale, you know) was playing in the
+garden with her ball.&nbsp; She threw it up in the air much
+higher than usual and it never came down again.&nbsp; There was
+an awful shriek, like ten thousand steam-engines; all the
+ladies-in-waiting fainted in a row, the inhabitants of the place
+went stone-deaf, and the Captain of the Guard, who was in
+attendance with a company of his troops, seized the Princess, put
+her on his horse, galloped away followed by his soldiers to a
+castle on the top of a hill, deposited the Princess in the
+highest room, and then and only then, told her what had
+happened.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Miss,&rdquo; he said, for he was so upset he forgot
+Court etiquette, &ldquo;Miss, your ball must have hit the
+Dreadful Griffin in the eye (I noticed he was taking a little fly
+in the neighbourhood), and that was the reason of the awful
+shriek.&nbsp; Well, Miss, the Dreadful Griffin never was known to
+forgive anybody anything, so I snatched you up quick before he
+could get at you and brought you to the Castle of the White
+Cats.&nbsp; There are seventeen of these animals sitting outside
+the door and twenty-seven more standing in the courtyard, so
+you&rsquo;re as safe as safe can be, for the Dreadful Griffin
+can&rsquo;t look at a white cat without getting the ague and then
+he shakes so a mouse wouldn&rsquo;t be afraid of him.&nbsp; And
+now, Miss, I must go back to your Royal Pa, so I will wish you
+good-morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Having made this long speech the Captain suddenly remembered
+the Court etiquette, became very hot and red, went out of the
+room backwards, and instantly fell over the seventeen cats who
+all swore at him, which so confused the poor man that he rolled
+down the stairs and out into the court where the twenty-seven
+cats were having rations of mouse-pie served out to them; and the
+Captain rolled into the middle of the pie, scalded himself badly
+with the gravy, and was thankful to jump on his horse and ride
+away with his soldiers to report matters to the King.</p>
+<p>The King was so pleased with his promptitude that he made him
+the General of the Flying Squadron, which only fights in the air,
+and conferred on him the medal of the Society for the Suppression
+of Superfluous Salamanders, whereat the Captain was
+overjoyed.</p>
+<p>But this is a digression, and I only told you because I wanted
+you to see that virtue is always rewarded.</p>
+<p>Now for the poor Princess.</p>
+<p>Well, she cried a little, of course, but the cats brought her
+some mouse-pie, which she found very good, and she was soon quite
+happy playing with some of the kittens and nearly forgot all
+about the Dreadful Griffin; but he did not forget about
+<i>her</i>, oh dear no!&nbsp; He flew after the Captain when he
+galloped away with the Princess, but when he saw the White Cats
+he shook with ague so fearfully that his teeth rolled about in
+his mouth like billiard balls and he had to go and get a new set
+before he could eat his dinner.&nbsp; Well, he was in a perfect
+fury, and how to get at the Princess he did not know.&nbsp; He
+swallowed several buckets of hot brimstone, rolled his head in a
+red flannel petticoat, put his tail in a hot sand-bag, and went
+to bed hoping to cure the ague, which he did completely, so that
+he was quite well next day and more anxious to eat the Princess
+than ever.</p>
+<p>Now next door to the Dreadful Griffin (that is, a hundred
+miles away) there lived a Wicked Witch, and he went to consult
+her as to how he might get at the Princess.&nbsp; When the Wicked
+Witch heard what a sad effect White Cats had on the
+Griffin&rsquo;s constitution she said that she would have
+expected a Griffin of his coils to have had more sense.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Any slow-worm knows,&rdquo; said the Wicked Witch,
+&ldquo;that cats love mice better than Princesses; therefore get
+a large sack of fat mice, let them loose a little way from the
+castle, and when the cats see them they will run after them, and
+you can eat the Princess.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Dreadful Griffin was so pleased with the Wicked Witch that
+he presented her with a pair of fire-bricks and a hot-water tin,
+and then flew away to the Purveyor of Mice, who lived in a town
+about seventy miles away.&nbsp; He bought twelve hundred dozen
+fat mice of the best quality, all the Purveyor had in stock that
+were home-grown, and flew on with them to the castle.&nbsp; When
+he was a little way off he let the mice out, expecting all the
+cats to arrive at once; but not a cat appeared.&nbsp; They
+<i>heard</i> mice and they <i>smelt</i> mice, but not a cat
+moved, for they were on their honour; so they kept guard and
+licked their lips sadly.&nbsp; When the Griffin saw the last of
+the twelve hundred dozen mice disappearing down the road with
+never a cat after them, he was in a tremendous temper and flew
+away to the house of the Wicked Witch, only stopping to pick up a
+steam engine which he dropped through her roof, and then went
+home to bed.&nbsp; Next day he remembered a friend of his called
+the Grumpy Giant, who lived six doors away, that is, about a
+thousand miles, so he flew to ask his advice.&nbsp; When the
+Giant heard his story, he said in the gruffest voice you ever
+heard, &ldquo;Mice is common, try sparrers&rdquo; (by which you
+can see that he was quite an uneducated person), and then he
+turned over and went to sleep.</p>
+<p>The Dreadful Griffin at once flew away to the Sparrow
+Preserves, bought eleven thousand, and then proceeded to let them
+fly close to the castle.&nbsp; Still not a cat moved.&nbsp; As
+the cats&rsquo; copy-book well says, &ldquo;Honour is dearer to
+cats than mice or birds,&rdquo; and all the kittens write this in
+round-hand as soon as they can do lessons at all, and never
+forget it.</p>
+<p>Well, I really dare not describe the state of mind the Griffin
+was in; but he made the air so hot that all the people put on
+their thinnest clothes, although it was the middle of
+winter.&nbsp; He flew home puffing and snorting, and on the way
+he passed the house of the Amiable Answerer.&nbsp; He went in and
+told his story, and his voice shook with rage.&nbsp; The Amiable
+Answerer gave him a penny pink ice to cool him down, and then
+said gently:&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think, dear Mr Griffin, that green spectacles would
+meet your case.&nbsp; Then the cats which are now white would
+appear to you green and . . . &rdquo;</p>
+<p>But the Griffin was already half-way to a Watchmaker&rsquo;s
+where they sold glasses.&nbsp; He burst into the shop, frightened
+the watchmaker so that he fell into the works of the watch he was
+mending and could only be got out with the greatest difficulty,
+seized twelve pairs of green spectacles, put them on all at once
+and flew towards the castle.</p>
+<p>Now the Dreadful Griffin was one of those creatures who do not
+stop to think, consequently he came to grief.&nbsp; White cats
+gave him the ague, but green dogs made him cough most fearfully;
+and a little way out of the town he met thirteen white poodles
+taking a walk, who of course all looked bright green to the
+Dreadful Griffin.&nbsp; He coughed so fearfully that all the
+twelve pairs of spectacles fell off his nose and were smashed to
+bits, and his plan was spoilt once more.</p>
+<p>No, I am not going to tell you what the Dreadful Griffin said
+and did then, it is too terrible to speak of, but he had to keep
+in bed for a week, and drink hot tar, and have his chest ironed
+with a steam roller, and his nose greased with seven pounds of
+tallow candles; but all his misfortunes did not cure him of
+wanting to eat the Princess.&nbsp; When his cough was better, he
+went for a walk in the wood near which he lived, to think out a
+new plan.&nbsp; Suddenly he heard something croaking, and saw the
+Fat Frog sitting under a tree.&nbsp; Now the Dreadful Griffin was
+so low in his mind that he wanted to tell someone his troubles,
+so he told the Fat Frog.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t come near me,&rdquo; said the Fat Frog when
+he had finished, &ldquo;for I hate heat.&nbsp; If you look under
+the fifth tree from the end of the wood you&rsquo;ll find a thin
+packet.&nbsp; Put it in sixteen gallons of water and pour it over
+the cats, only mind you shut your eyes first, and for goodness
+sake don&rsquo;t come into this wood any more, you dry up the
+moisture.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Griffin quite forgot to thank the Fat Frog, he was a
+Griffin of <i>no</i> manners, but he didn&rsquo;t forget to take
+the packet.&nbsp; It was labelled &lsquo;Reckitt&rsquo;s,&rsquo;
+and when he put it in the water all the water turned bright
+blue.&nbsp; Then he took the pail in his claw, flew to the
+castle, shut his eyes and poured some of the contents of the pail
+over the cats in the courtyard.</p>
+<p>When he opened his eyes there were twenty-seven bright blue,
+damp, depressed cats; and he passed them without any
+difficulty.&nbsp; He shut his eyes, wriggled up the stairs,
+poured the remaining mixture over the seventeen cats, who all
+turned as blue as the rest, and then he burst open the door of
+the Princess&rsquo;s room.&nbsp; Fortunately there was a kind
+Fairy flying over the castle at that very moment, who, seeing
+what was happening, changed the Princess into a flea so that the
+Dreadful Griffin couldn&rsquo;t see her anywhere.</p>
+<p>No, if I couldn&rsquo;t tell you before, I certainly must not
+attempt now to describe the Griffin&rsquo;s behaviour when he
+found the Princess thus snatched from his jaws.&nbsp; He went
+grunting and bellowing and screaming along; and just as he was
+stopping to take breath he heard someone roaring with laughter,
+and saw a little yellow man sitting on the top bough of a
+tree.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you laughing at ME?&rdquo; said the Dreadful
+Griffin (he was so angry that he was quite polite).&nbsp; And the
+little man said quite as politely that he certainly
+<i>was</i>.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why?&rdquo; said the Dreadful Griffin, still fearfully
+polite.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because you&rsquo;re such a green Griffin,&rdquo; said
+the yellow man; and he screamed with laughter
+again&mdash;&ldquo;I know all about it, you&rsquo;ve blued the
+cats and now the Princess has greened you.&nbsp; She&rsquo;s
+turned into a flea, and you still want to eat her, and it never
+occurred to you, you green old grampus of a Griffin, that fleas
+like <i>cats</i>.&nbsp; I suppose the Princess flea
+wouldn&rsquo;t jump on to a tabby kitten, and you couldn&rsquo;t
+swallow the kitten&mdash;oh dear, no&mdash;of course not . .
+.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But the Griffin was gone.&nbsp; He went to the Zoo, found a
+tabby kitten, though they are rare in that country, and flew back
+with it to the Princess&rsquo;s room.</p>
+<p>He waited half an hour and then swallowed the kitten at one
+gulp; but he instantly burst in four pieces, for the fluffy
+kitten tickled his digestive organs so much that they cracked his
+sides and he died; and the flea and the kitten came out quite
+unhurt, only a little damp.</p>
+<p>Then a wonderful thing happened.&nbsp; The tabby kitten
+changed into the little yellow man who had laughed at the
+Griffin.&nbsp; He grew, and grew, and in a few minutes he was a
+handsome prince.&nbsp; His name was Prince Orange
+Plushikins.&nbsp; One day a cruel witch whom he had offended had
+changed him into an ugly yellow man, and had sworn that he should
+only regain his shape if he was eaten by a Griffin when under the
+form of a tabby kitten; which you know was precisely what
+happened.&nbsp; Well, Prince Orange Plushikins at once asked the
+Princess flea to marry him, and the minute the flea said
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; the Princess reappeared.&nbsp; She and the
+Prince were married next morning; and all the cats went to the
+steam laundry and were washed and bleached and had their tails
+crimped and their whiskers starched; and they danced at the
+wedding, and everybody lived happily ever after.</p>
+<h3><a name="page103"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 103</span>The
+Discontented Daffodils.</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">They</span> had the very loveliest home
+you can imagine, with beautiful soft moss and grass to grow in,
+trees to form a cosy shelter from the wind, and a dear little
+babbling stream to water them.</p>
+<p>There were lots of daffodils in this pretty place, and nobody
+ever discovered the nook to gather them.&nbsp; They rejoiced in
+the spring sunshine and gentle breezes, the greeting of the
+birds, and the musical chatter of the brook; then when their
+brief visit to the upper world was over they nestled happily down
+in their warm mossy beds and slept till April came again to wake
+them.</p>
+<p>A little apart from the rest were four daffodils growing at
+the root of a gnarled oak tree, and one fine sunshiny morning
+three of them took it into their silly little heads that they
+were dull, the place was dull, the other daffodils were dull, and
+they wanted a change.</p>
+<p>It was mainly the fault of the cuckoo, for he was a grumbling,
+mischief-making bird and used to spend a good deal of time
+talking to the daffodils.&nbsp; This particular spring he had
+taken up his abode in the oak tree, and was fond of talking of
+all the grand things he had seen, and a great many he had not
+seen, for the cuckoo is a bird of fine imagination; and at last,
+as I have already said, three of the daffodils made up their
+minds that to be a flower and live in a wood was a very dreadful
+thing, and not to be put up with any longer.</p>
+<p>Now the cuckoo had told many strange tales about creatures
+with two legs and beautiful coloured leaves which grew in an odd
+way, and feathers only on their heads.&nbsp; They could not fly,
+but they could run about from place to place, and dance and sing;
+and at last the daffodils decided that they wished to be like
+these curious creatures, which the cuckoo called
+<i>girls</i>.</p>
+<p>Then there were sad times in that sweet little nook under the
+oak tree.</p>
+<p>The naughty daffodils cried and quarrelled and bewailed their
+lot all day long, till they made themselves and everybody else
+extremely wretched.&nbsp; Their little sister shook her head at
+them, and scolded and said that for her part she was not meant to
+have legs; but it was all no use, the daffodils would not be
+quiet.</p>
+<p>One day the Fairy Visitor who looked after the flowers in that
+part heard the silly blossoms crying, and stopped to ask what was
+the matter.&nbsp; When she heard the story she told them they
+were very foolish and discontented, and that the cuckoo was a
+most mischievous bird and liked to get people into trouble; but
+the daffodils would not listen.&nbsp; So knowing there is nothing
+so likely to cure silly flower as to give them their own silly
+way, she said&mdash;&ldquo;Very well, my dears, you want to be
+girls, and girls you shall be.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With that she waved her wand over the three daffodils and in a
+twinkle they were gone; in their places stood three tall pretty
+maidens dressed in soft yellow silk frocks with green stockings
+and shoes.&nbsp; For a minute they were too much astonished to
+speak, then clapping their hands they laughed and skipped for
+joy, and wanted to kiss the old fairy because they were so
+pleased at getting their own way; but the fairy would not look at
+them, and stooped over the little flower now growing all alone,
+saying kindly:&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, little one, don&rsquo;t you want to be a pretty
+maiden, too?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But the daffodil shook her head with great
+determination:&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want legs and I won&rsquo;t have
+legs.&nbsp; I was meant to be a flower and a flower I will be,
+but if you could keep that meddling, chattering cuckoo away from
+this tree for a time I should be much obliged.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And the fairy laughed and promised.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile the three pretty maidens had set of hand in hand to
+seek their fortunes.</p>
+<p>They went singing and dancing over the meadows in the soft
+afternoon sunshine, and thought how wise and clever they were to
+be girls instead of little unnoticed flowers growing in a
+wood.</p>
+<p>Presently they came to a house and stopped to ask whether they
+could have a lodging for the night.&nbsp; There was no difficulty
+about it, for that is a happy country where there is no money and
+everything belongs to everybody, so the people of the
+house&mdash;an old man and woman&mdash;were delighted to see the
+beautiful maidens and made them heartily welcome, and the
+daffodils went to bed that night very happy and quite content
+with the result of their experiment.&nbsp; When they came to
+undress, however, they received a severe shock.</p>
+<p>They were girls, real proper girls, they could chatter and eat
+and sleep, for the fairy was not one to do things by halves; but
+when they pulled off the dainty green shoes and stockings, they
+discovered that although they had the prettiest little legs and
+feet and toes in the world, they were quite green, the colour of
+daffodil leaves.</p>
+<p>There wasn&rsquo;t anything said about a &ldquo;dear, darling,
+kind old fairy&rdquo; then, I can assure you.</p>
+<p>The first daffodil said she was a wicked old witch.&nbsp; The
+second said she was a horrible old woman; and the third said she
+knew the fairy meant to pay them out, and she would like to
+scratch her.&nbsp; Then they all set to work arguing and
+quarrelling and crying like silly babies, when suddenly a
+familiar &ldquo;Cuck-oo!&rdquo; sounded in their ears, and they
+saw our old acquaintance perched on the window sill.</p>
+<p>He looked at the six little green feet, and his eyes twinkled;
+but before he could speak the three angry maidens all began
+scolding him at once, for they were delighted to have somebody
+fresh to find fault with.</p>
+<p>The cuckoo, being in some respects a philosopher, did not
+attempt to interrupt, but when they were quite exhausted he said
+he really could not see any reason for their distress.&nbsp; No
+one would ever wish to see their feet, and they could always wear
+stockings.&nbsp; He added that he had great news, and had come on
+purpose to bring it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The King of Silverland,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;is
+coming with all his court to hold high revel close to this place
+and celebrate the coming of age of his three sons.&nbsp; These
+princes were all born at once; and the king has decided to divide
+his kingdom into three equal parts and leave his sons to rule
+while he retires to his country place to study science.&nbsp; Now
+these Silver princes desire to marry three princesses, sisters
+born at once like themselves; but they are very hard to find, and
+the king is advertising everywhere for triplets.&nbsp; When I
+heard this I set off at once to tell you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The three maidens were so much interested and excited that
+they forgot their troubles and began to sing.</p>
+<p>The cuckoo was pleased with his success, but told them they
+must go to bed and to sleep, and he would fetch them in the
+morning to show them the way to the King of Silverland&rsquo;s
+court.</p>
+<p>Next morning, although he arrived quite early, the maidens
+were up and ready for him, looking very pretty in their yellow
+frocks.&nbsp; The kind people of the house were quite sorry to
+part with their guests and begged them to come again, and the
+daffodil maidens set off in high spirits, following the cuckoo as
+he flew slowly ahead across the sunlit meadows.&nbsp; About noon
+they came in sight of the king&rsquo;s court.&nbsp; The gorgeous
+tents were of cloth of silver fastened with silver ropes;
+fountains were playing in the open spaces, and flags flying
+everywhere.&nbsp; The daffodils attracted a great deal of
+attention as they made their way, blushing and a little
+frightened, through the crowds of soldiers, court ladies and
+attendants.&nbsp; At the door of the largest and most gorgeous
+tent stood three beautiful princes dressed in silver.</p>
+<p>When they saw the maidens approaching, hand in hand, they gave
+a cry of joy and ran forward to greet them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dear beautiful princesses,&rdquo; they cried,
+&ldquo;welcome to our court!&nbsp; May we ask your names and the
+country you come from?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The cuckoo, perched on a tent-pole hard by, answered for
+them.&nbsp; &ldquo;These are the Princesses Daffodil, daughters
+of the great King of Goldenland.&nbsp; They have come very many
+days&rsquo; journey to be present at your revels.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Think of the cuckoo telling such a dreadful story and those
+naughty daffodils not contradicting him!</p>
+<p>When the princes heard the cuckoo&rsquo;s words they were
+almost beside themselves with joy, for, as it happened, there was
+a real King of Goldenland (but the cuckoo did not know it), and
+he had three daughters of the same age whom the Silver princes
+were anxious to see.&nbsp; They dropped on one knee, kissed the
+maidens&rsquo; hands very prettily, and then led them, blushing
+and delighted, into the royal tent.</p>
+<p>The king was out, but the queen received the daffodils very
+graciously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Triplet,&rdquo; she said significantly, and it was the
+princes&rsquo; turn to blush.</p>
+<p>Then the young people visited all the beautiful tents, and the
+great ballroom where there was to be a ball that night, and the
+princes whispered to the maidens that they would dance with no
+one else.&nbsp; When they had tasted the cowslip wine from the
+fountains and eaten lots of wonderful sweets the daffodils
+declared they were quite tired; so the princes put them into
+hammocks with little monkeys to swing them, and the happy hours
+wore on until the evening.</p>
+<p>The maidens had had a beautiful tent assigned to them by the
+queen, and they found lovely dresses of cloth of gold with shoes
+and stockings to match, all ready for them.&nbsp; They looked so
+beautiful when they were dressed that the colour of their feet
+did not seem to matter at all.</p>
+<p>All that night they danced with the princes, and everyone was
+charmed with their beauty and grace, especially the king, who had
+not received a single answer to his advertisement.&nbsp; At the
+great banquet which followed the ball the betrothal of the Silver
+princes to the Golden princesses was solemnly announced, and
+their health drunk amid great rejoicing.</p>
+<p>The dawn was red in the east before the festivities were over,
+and the daffodils went to bed happier than they had ever been
+before, happier than they ever would be again.&nbsp; A new and
+awful trouble of which they had never dreamt was about to befall
+them.</p>
+<p>When the princes came to meet their betrothed next morning the
+maidens noticed that, although very affectionate, they were
+downcast and somewhat silent.&nbsp; At last, after a great deal
+of questioning, the reason came out.&nbsp; The king and queen had
+both had exactly the same curious dream, and this strange
+occurrence had upset their majesties very much.&nbsp; They both
+dreamt that one of the princesses, as they believed them to be,
+had six toes on each foot; and as no monstrosity could ever share
+the throne of Silverland they demanded to see the
+princesses&rsquo; little feet with their own eyes, so as to be
+quite sure they all had only the right number of toes.</p>
+<p>When the princes with many blushes broke this news to their
+lady-loves, they each gave a short loud scream and fainted.</p>
+<p>Their lovers, of course, put this down to extreme modesty, and
+were much affected by such proper conduct; but when they
+succeeded in restoring them to consciousness they were not a
+little disturbed to find that the maidens positively refused to
+show their feet.</p>
+<p>Imagine the grief of the poor princes!&nbsp; The king had said
+quite positively that not one of the princes should marry till
+he, the queen, and the councillors of the kingdom, had seen the
+bride&rsquo;s feet; and the maidens now declared that they would
+never never show them.</p>
+<p>Matters were in this awkward state when the cuckoo appeared on
+the scene.&nbsp; He had as usual contrived to find out what was
+going on, and now announced that he had a private message for the
+Golden princesses, if they would take him to their tent.</p>
+<p>When they were alone the daffodils began to cry their eyes
+out, and the cuckoo to try and comfort them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Green feet,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;are very uncommon
+and would no doubt be welcomed as a great rarity.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But the maidens sobbed on.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The princes love you so much they will think your
+little feet the most beautiful colour in the world.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But they would not listen.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I heard the king and queen say that green was their
+favourite colour,&rdquo; he remarked next.</p>
+<p>This was pure invention on the cuckoo&rsquo;s part, but the
+daffodils were somewhat cheered, and after a great deal of
+talking the cuckoo persuaded them to give in and consent to show
+their feet, as they could not possibly marry the princes
+without.&nbsp; Besides, perhaps when the king found their toes
+were all right he would think the colour rather ornamental than
+otherwise.&nbsp; So the princes were told to their great joy that
+the princesses had consented to show their feet; and the king and
+queen, on being informed, summoned a Cabinet Council for the next
+morning so that their ministers might be present at the counting
+of the princesses&rsquo; toes.</p>
+<p>Meantime the real Goldenland princesses had arrived near the
+camp; but as they and their suite were very tired they resolved
+not to visit the Silver king till the next day, and commanded
+that no one should mention their arrival.</p>
+<p>That night the daffodils never slept, for fear once more took
+possession of them.&nbsp; They scrubbed their feet, but the
+fairy&rsquo;s dye would not come off; then they scraped them, but
+that hurt very much and did no good.&nbsp; Finally they chalked
+them, but that was no use at all; so they had to give it up in
+despair, and hope for the best.</p>
+<p>Next morning two of the court ushers came to escort them to
+the Cabinet Council.&nbsp; Poor daffodils!&nbsp; Their eyes were
+red with weeping, and they could scarcely stand for terror when
+they entered the tent where the examination was to take
+place.</p>
+<p>In the middle on a raised dais sat the king and queen, on
+their right stood the three princes, on their left the
+councillors in their robes of state.&nbsp; Three chairs were
+placed for the maidens, and they were politely but firmly
+requested to take off their shoes and stockings.</p>
+<p>Blushing crimson the daffodils slowly and unwillingly took off
+their shoes.&nbsp; Then they cried a little and said they really
+truly couldn&rsquo;t, but it was no use, and the stockings had to
+follow, and six little green feet were exposed to view.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They wear two pairs, I see,&rdquo; said the queen, who
+was a little short-sighted.&nbsp; &ldquo;Very sensible, I&rsquo;m
+sure, in this damp place.&nbsp; Take off the other pair, my
+dears.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But the daffodils only hung their heads and wept.</p>
+<p>Then one of the councillors cried out, in a horrified
+tone&mdash;&ldquo;Their feet are green!&nbsp; They are
+monstrosities!&rdquo; and at that very moment heralds were heard
+outside announcing the arrival of the Princesses of
+Goldenland.</p>
+<p>Now the king was a shrewd old gentleman, and the true state of
+affairs suddenly flashed upon him.&nbsp; &ldquo;They are
+impostors!&rdquo; he cried, rising to his feet, &ldquo;turn the
+deceitful minxes out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At that the maidens rose and fled.&nbsp; They never stopped
+for shoes or stockings, but ran like hunted hares out of the tent
+across the fields; and when the people saw their little green
+feet a great shout of laughter went up, in which the king and the
+princes joined.&nbsp; As for the daffodils, they ran and ran and
+ran, not daring even to look behind them, till they suddenly
+stopped for want of breath; and where do you think they
+were?&nbsp; Why in their old home under the oak tree.&nbsp; Most
+of the daffodils had gone to sleep, but a few were left, and
+among them their little sister.&nbsp; At her side stood the
+fairy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, my dears, do you like being girls?&rdquo; and
+there was a twinkle in her eye as she spoke.</p>
+<p>But the daffodils were sobbing too bitterly to answer, and the
+fairy had a kind heart and did not press the question.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Would you be content to be daffodils again?&rdquo; she
+asked, and smiled at them sweetly.</p>
+<p>They murmured a thankful &ldquo;Yes&rdquo;; the fairy waved
+her wand, and in a trice the maidens were gone and there were
+three more flowers, very pale faded ones, growing under the
+gnarled oak tree.&nbsp; Poor discontented daffodils!&nbsp; They
+had to pay a heavy price for their folly.</p>
+<p>The cuckoo came back time after time, and never wearied of
+teasing them; and their little sister made many very true but
+disagreeable remarks on the extreme silliness of being
+discontented with one&rsquo;s surroundings.</p>
+<p>Perhaps by next spring things may be better; but of this you
+may be quite sure, no amount of cuckoos will ever persuade the
+flowers in that nook to be anything but what nature intended them
+to be&mdash;sweet little daffodils.</p>
+<h3><a name="page128"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 128</span>The
+Fairy Fluffikins</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Fairy Fluffikins lived in a
+warm woolly nest in a hole down an old oak tree.&nbsp; She was
+the sweetest, funniest little fairy you ever saw.&nbsp; She wore
+a little, soft, fluffy brown dress, and on her head a little red
+woolly cap; she had soft red hair and the brightest, naughtiest,
+merriest, sharpest brown eyes imaginable.</p>
+<p>What a life she led the animals!&nbsp; Fairy Fluffikins was a
+sad tease; she would creep into the nests where the fat baby
+dormice were asleep in bed while Mamma dormouse nodded over her
+knitting and Papa smoked his little acorn pipe; and she would
+tickle the babies till they screamed with laughter and nearly
+rolled out of bed, and Mamma scolded, and Papa said in a gruff
+voice&mdash;&ldquo;What a plague you are, you little dors; go to
+sleep this minute or I will fetch my big stick.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And then the babies would shake, for they were afraid of the
+big stick; and naughty Fairy Fluffikins would dance off to find
+some fresh piece of mischief.</p>
+<p>One night she had fine fun.&nbsp; She found a little dead
+mouse in a field; and at first she was sorry for the mouse, and
+thought she would bury it and plant a daisy on its grave; but
+then an idea struck her.&nbsp; She hunted about till she found a
+piece of long, strong grass, and then she took the little mouse,
+tied the piece of grass round its tail, and ran away with it to
+the big tree where the Ancient Owl lived.&nbsp; There was a
+little hole at the bottom of the tree and into it Fairy
+Fluffikins crept, leaving the mouse outside in the
+moonlight.&nbsp; Presently she heard a gruff voice in the tree
+saying&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I smell mouse, I smell mouse.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then there
+was a swoop of wings, and Fairy Fluffikins promptly drew the
+mouse into the little hole and stuffed its tail into her mouth so
+that she might not be heard laughing; and the gruff voice said
+angrily&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where&rsquo;s that mouse gone?&nbsp; I smelt mouse, I
+know I smelt mouse!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She grew tired of this game after a few times, so she left the
+mouse in the hole and crept away to a new one.&nbsp; She really
+was a naughty fairy.&nbsp; She blew on the buttercups so that
+they thought the morning breeze had come to wake them up, and
+opened their cups in a great hurry.&nbsp; She buzzed outside the
+clover and made it talk in its sleep, so that it said in a cross,
+sleepy voice&mdash;&ldquo;Go away, you stupid busy bee, and
+don&rsquo;t wake me up in the middle of the night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She pulled the tail of the nightingale who was singing to his
+lady-love in the hawthorn bush, and he lost his place in his song
+and nearly tumbled over backwards into the garden.&nbsp; Then to
+her joy she met an elderly, domestic puss taking an evening walk
+with a view to field-mice.</p>
+<p>Here was sport.&nbsp; Fluffikins hid in the grass and
+squeaked; and when the elderly cat came tearing up she pulled his
+whiskers and flew away (I forgot to tell you that she had little,
+soft wings), and the elderly cat jumped and said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mouse-traps and mince-meat!&nbsp; Fancy a cat of my age
+and experience taking a bat for a mouse!&nbsp; But by my claws I
+heard a mouse&rsquo;s squeak.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Fairy Fluffikins often met the poor elderly cat, and always
+led him some dreadful dance, now and then taking a ride on his
+back into the bargain, till he thought he must have got the
+nightmare.</p>
+<p>One day Fairy Fluffikins was well paid out for some of her
+naughtiness.&nbsp; She was flying away from a tree where she had
+just wrapped a sleeping bat&rsquo;s head up in a large cobweb,
+when she heard the sweep of wings, felt a sharp nip&mdash;and in
+less time than it takes to tell found herself in the nest of the
+Ancient Owl.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My wig!&rdquo; said the Ancient Owl, much surprised,
+&ldquo;I thought you were a bat.&rdquo;&nbsp; And he called his
+wife and three children to look.</p>
+<p>Now when Fairy Fluffikins saw five pairs of large round eyes
+blinking and staring at her she lost her head and cried
+out&mdash;&ldquo;Please, please, Mr Ancient Owl, don&rsquo;t be
+angry with me and I will never play tricks with mice any
+more,&rdquo; and so told the Ancient Owl what he had never even
+suspected before.</p>
+<p>Then the Ancient Owl was <span class="GutSmall">MOST
+DREADFULLY ANGRY</span> and read Fairy Fluffikins a long sermon
+about the wickedness of deceiving Ancient Owls.&nbsp; The sermon
+took two hours and a half; and when it was over all the owls
+hooted at her and pecked her; and Fairy Fluffikins was very glad
+indeed when at last Mrs Ancient Owl gave her a push and
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go along, you impertinent brown minx,&rdquo; and she
+was able to go out into the night.</p>
+<p>Even this sad adventure did not cure Fairy Fluffikins of
+getting into mischief&mdash;although she never teased the owls
+any more, you may be sure of that&mdash;she took to tormenting
+the squirrels instead.&nbsp; She used to find their stores of
+nuts and carry them away and fill the holes with pebbles; and
+this, when you are a hard-working squirrel with a large family to
+support, is very trying to the temper.&nbsp; Then she would tie
+acorns to their tails; and she would clap her hands to frighten
+them, and pull the baby-squirrels&rsquo; ears; till at last they
+offered a reward to anyone who could catch Fairy Fluffikins and
+bring her to be punished.</p>
+<p>No one caught Fairy Fluffikins; but she caught herself, as you
+shall hear.</p>
+<p>She was poking about round a haystack one night, trying to
+find something naughty to do, when she came upon a sweet little
+house with pretty wire walls and a wooden door standing
+invitingly open.&nbsp; In hopped Fluffikins, thinking she was
+going to have some new kind of fun.&nbsp; There was a little
+white thing dangling from the roof, and she laid hold of
+it.&nbsp; Immediately there was a bang; the wooden door slammed;
+and Fluffikins was caught.</p>
+<p>How she cried and stamped and pushed at the door, and promised
+to be a good fairy and a great many other things!&nbsp; But all
+to no purpose: the door was tight shut, and Fluffikins was not
+like some fortunate fairies who can get out of anywhere.</p>
+<p>There she remained, and in the morning one of the labourers
+found her, and, thinking she was some kind of dormouse, he
+carried her home to his little girl; and if you call on Mary Ann
+Smith you will see Fairy Fluffikins there still in a little
+cage.&nbsp; They give her nuts and cheese and bread, and all the
+things she doesn&rsquo;t like, and there is no one to tease and
+no mischief to get into; so if there is a miserable little Fairy
+anywhere it is Fairy Fluffikins, and I&rsquo;m not sure it
+doesn&rsquo;t serve her quite right.</p>
+<h3><a name="page138"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 138</span>The
+Story of the Tinkle-Tinkle.</h3>
+<p>Once upon a time there lived a Tinkle-Tinkle.&nbsp; I cannot
+tell you what he was like, because no man knows, not even the
+Tinkle-Tinkle himself.&nbsp; Sometimes he lived on the ground,
+sometimes in a tree, sometimes in the water, sometimes in a cave;
+and I can&rsquo;t tell you what he lived on, for no man knows,
+not even the Tinkle-Tinkle himself.</p>
+<p>One day the Tinkle-Tinkle was going through a wood, when he
+heard a piteous weeping.&nbsp; He stopped, for he was a kindly
+Tinkle-Tinkle, and found two small dormice sobbing under a tree
+because they had been cruelly deserted by their parents.&nbsp; He
+wiped their eyes tenderly and took them to his cave home; but I
+cannot tell you how he went, for no man knows, not even the
+Tinkle-Tinkle.&nbsp; However, when he got there he put the
+dormice to bed in his grandmother&rsquo;s boots, for which he had
+never found any use before, and fed them on periwinkles and tea,
+and was very kind to them; and when they grew older he bought
+them caps and aprons, and they became the Tinkle-Tinkle&rsquo;s
+housemaid and parlourmaid.</p>
+<p>Now I must tell you that it was a great grief to the
+Tinkle-Tinkle not to know what he was, or how he lived, or where
+he was going to; and it often made him depressed, but he always
+concealed it from the dormice, appearing a most cheerful and
+contented creature.</p>
+<p>One day he found a poor green bird lying on the ground with
+its leg broken.&nbsp; Fortunately Tinkle-Tinkle had his
+grandmother&rsquo;s black silk reticule with him which had never
+been of any service to him before.&nbsp; He gently placed the
+green bird in the bottom and carried it to the cave.</p>
+<p>The dormice laid the poor sufferer on a soft bed and put the
+broken leg up carefully in plaster of Paris; and they nursed the
+green bird with the greatest attention so that it was soon well
+enough to hop about on crutches; and it sang so beautifully that
+all the inhabitants round gave it money, and its fame spread
+abroad; but it was so tenderly attached to the Tinkle-Tinkle and
+the dormice that it would not leave them.</p>
+<p>Now it happened on a certain evening that the Tinkle-Tinkle
+was travelling over the sea, when suddenly in the depths he
+caught sight of a most beautiful Creature.&nbsp; It was all sorts
+of colours&mdash;white, rosy pink, and deep crimson, and pale
+blue fading into white and gold.&nbsp; It had no face but a
+bright light; and it had quantities of beautiful iridescent
+wings, like the rainbow; and the most lovely voice you ever
+heard, like the sighing of the waves in the hollow of the
+sea.</p>
+<p>The Tinkle-Tinkle was so astonished and entranced that he
+stopped, and the beautiful Creature cried out to him, and its
+voice made Tinkle-Tinkle remember a dream he had once had of
+sunshine, and forest trees, and the song of birds; and the
+Creature said, &ldquo;Ah, Tinkle-Tinkle! you are lonely and
+perplexed and sad, and you do not know whence you came nor why
+you are here; but the dormice know and the green bird knows, and
+I know, and we are glad for your being.&nbsp; Go on,
+Tinkle-Tinkle, and do not sorrow, for some day you shall come
+back to me, and I will wrap you in my wings and take you where
+you belong, and then you will understand.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>When the Tinkle-Tinkle heard this he was glad with a new
+strange gladness, and he went back to his cave; but not alone,
+for the spirit of hope went with him.</p>
+<p>The Tinkle-Tinkle had one gift&mdash;he could sing&mdash;how,
+no man knew, not even the Tinkle-Tinkle himself; and this is how
+he discovered his gift.</p>
+<p>One day in a secluded spot in the forest he found a dying
+stag, and the Tinkle-Tinkle was moved with great compassion and
+yet could do nothing.</p>
+<p>The great stag&rsquo;s head drooped lower and lower till even
+the sun melted in a mist of pity, and the trees sighed, and the
+breezes hushed their voices.&nbsp; Then suddenly the
+Tinkle-Tinkle crept close and began to sing, why or how he knew
+not.&nbsp; As he sang, the birds and the stream were silenced and
+the breezes ceased, and the great stag&rsquo;s breathing grew
+less and less laboured, and his eyes brightened, and presently he
+rose slowly to his feet and paced away to join the rest of the
+herd, and the Tinkle-Tinkle went with him.</p>
+<p>When the stag&rsquo;s companions heard the story, they wept
+for all that had befallen their leader, but rejoiced also and
+blessed the Tinkle-Tinkle; and he sang once more for them, and
+the Star-spirits leaned out of their bright little windows to
+listen, and the night was glad.</p>
+<p>Many were the adventures of the Tinkle-Tinkle, and countless
+the creatures he cheered and helped, yet he never fancied himself
+any use or knew why he was in the world.&nbsp; He brought home a
+poor old crab without a claw, and the green bird and the dormice
+found a hook and screwed it in, and the poor old crab used to
+carry parcels for the neighbours; but he still lived with the
+Tinkle-Tinkle.</p>
+<p>Another time it was a snail with a broken shell; for him they
+built a beautiful little house, and he made little rush brooms
+and sold them to the passers-by; but he lived ever after close to
+the Tinkle-Tinkle&rsquo;s front door.</p>
+<p>So it went on till all the Tinkle-Tinkle&rsquo;s homes were
+full of strange occupants, and he began to feel very old and worn
+and weary.&nbsp; Then he remembered the promise of the beautiful
+Creature, and went slowly over the sea hoping the time had come
+for it to be fulfilled, and it had.&nbsp; The beautiful Creature
+stretched out its lovely rose and purple wings and wrapped the
+Tinkle-Tinkle in their warm soft greatness, and bore him down and
+down through the depths till they came to the Great Gate.&nbsp;
+At the beautiful Creature&rsquo;s voice it swung slowly back, and
+they passed down the Blue Pathway, which is all ice, cut and
+carved into lovely pinnacles and spires, very blue with the blue
+of the summer sky and the southern seas.&nbsp; The Tinkle-Tinkle
+could just see it from between the beautiful Creature&rsquo;s
+wings, stretching away in the blue distance, and at the end one
+star.</p>
+<p>Presently&mdash;and though the time had been one thousand
+years it had not seemed long to the Tinkle-Tinkle&mdash;they came
+out into a beautiful place that was nothing but light, and the
+beautiful Creature set the Tinkle-Tinkle down; he looked around
+him and saw many other Tinkle-Tinkles, and he knew them for what
+they were and loved their beauty; and the Creature gently swept
+one of its purple pinions across him, and the Tinkle-Tinkle took
+form.&nbsp; He had many, many little soft, strong hands and many
+little white feet, and long sweeping wings and a face which shone
+with something of the light of the beautiful Creature; and the
+Tinkle-Tinkle saw and understood and sang for joy.</p>
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREY BRETHREN***</p>
+<pre>
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Grey Brethren, by Michael Fairless
+(#3 in our series by Michael Fairless)
+
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+
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+Title: The Grey Brethren and Other Fragments in Prose and Verse
+
+Author: Michael Fairless
+
+Release Date: March, 1997  [EBook #835]
+[This file was first posted on March 2, 1997]
+[Most recently updated: September 25, 2002]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE GREY BRETHREN ***
+
+
+
+
+Transcribed from the 1911 Duckworth and Co. edition by David Price,
+email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
+
+
+
+
+THE GREY BRETHREN AND OTHER FRAGMENTS IN PROSE AND VERSE
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+
+The Grey Brethren
+A Song of Low Degree
+A German Christmas Eve
+A Christmas Idyll
+The Manifestation
+All Souls' Day in a German Town
+By Rivers and Streams
+Spring
+A Lark's Song
+'Luvly Miss'
+Four Stories Told To Children:
+   The Dreadful Griffin
+   The Discontented Daffodils
+   The Fairy Fluffikins
+   The Story of the Tinkle-Tinkle
+
+
+
+The Grey Brethren
+
+
+
+Some of the happiest remembrances of my childhood are of days spent
+in a little Quaker colony on a high hill.
+
+The walk was in itself a preparation, for the hill was long and
+steep and at the mercy of the north-east wind; but at the top,
+sheltered by a copse and a few tall trees, stood a small house,
+reached by a flagged pathway skirting one side of a bright trim
+garden.
+
+I, with my seven summers of lonely, delicate childhood, felt, when
+I gently closed the gate behind me, that I shut myself into Peace.
+The house was always somewhat dark, and there were no domestic
+sounds.  The two old ladies, sisters, both born in the last
+century, sat in the cool, dim parlour, netting or sewing.  Rebecca
+was small, with a nut-cracker nose and chin; Mary, tall and
+dignified, needed no velvet under the net cap.  I can feel now the
+touch of the cool dove-coloured silk against my cheek, as I sat on
+the floor, watching the nimble fingers with the shuttle, and
+listened as Mary read aloud a letter received that morning,
+describing a meeting of the faithful and the 'moving of the Spirit'
+among them.  I had a mental picture of the 'Holy Heavenly Dove,'
+with its wings of silvery grey, hovering over my dear old ladies;
+and I doubt not my vision was a true one.
+
+Once as I watched Benjamin, the old gardener--a most 'stiff-backed
+Friend' despite his stoop and his seventy years--putting scarlet
+geraniums and yellow fever-few in the centre bed, I asked, awe-
+struck, whether such glowing colours were approved; and Rebecca
+smiled and said--"Child, dost thee not think the Lord may have His
+glories?" and I looked from the living robe of scarlet and gold to
+the dove-coloured gown, and said:  "Would it be pride in thee to
+wear His glories?" and Mary answered for her--"The change is not
+yet; better beseems us the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit.
+
+The 'change from glory to glory' has come to them both long since,
+but it seems to me as if their robes must still be Quaker-grey.
+
+Upstairs was the invalid daughter and niece.  For years she had
+been compelled to lie on her face; and in that position she had
+done wonderful drawings of the High Priest, the Ark of the
+Covenant, and other Levitical figures.  She had a cageful of tame
+canary-birds which answered to their names and fed from her plate
+at meal-times.  Of these I remember only Roger, a gorgeous fellow
+with a beautiful voice and strong will of his own, who would
+occasionally defy his mistress from the secure fastness of a high
+picture-frame, but always surrendered at last, and came to listen
+to his lecture with drooping wings.
+
+A city of Peace, this little house, for the same severely-gentle
+decorum reigned in the kitchen as elsewhere:  and now, where is
+such a haunt to be found?
+
+In the earlier part of this century the Friends bore a most
+important witness.  They were a standing rebuke to rough manners,
+rude speech, and to the too often mere outward show of religion.
+No one could fail to be impressed by the atmosphere of peace
+suggested by their bearing and presence; and the gentle, sheltered,
+contemplative lives lived by most of them undoubtedly made them
+unusually responsive to spiritual influence.  Now, the young birds
+have left the parent nest and the sober plumage and soft speech;
+they are as other men; and in a few short years the word Quaker
+will sound as strange in our ears as the older appellation Shaker
+does now.
+
+This year I read for the first time the Journal of George Fox.  It
+is hard to link the rude, turbulent son of Amos with the denizens
+in my city of Peace; but he had his work to do and did it, letting
+breezy truths into the stuffy 'steeple-houses' of the 'lumps of
+clay.'
+
+"Come out from among them and be ye separate; touch not the
+accursed thing!" he thundered; and out they came, obedient to his
+stentorian mandate; but alack, how many treasures in earthen
+vessels did they overlook in their terror of the curse!  The good
+people made such haste to flee the city, that they imagined
+themselves as having already, in the spirit, reached the land that
+is very far off; and so they cast from them the outward and visible
+signs which are vehicles, in this material world, of inward graces.
+Measureless are the uncovenanted blessings of God; and to these the
+Friends have ever borne a witness of power; but now the Calvinist
+intruder no longer divides the sheep from the goats in our
+churches; now the doctrine of universal brotherhood and the respect
+due to all men are taught much more effectively than when George
+Fox refused to doff his hat to the Justice; the quaint old speech
+has lost its significance, the dress would imply all the vainglory
+that the wearer desires to avoid; the young Quakers of this
+generation are no longer 'disciplined' in matters of the common
+social life; yet still they remain separate.
+
+We of the outward and visible covenant need them, with their
+inherited mysticism, ordered contemplation, and spiritual vision;
+we need them for ourselves.  The mother they have left yearns for
+them, and with all her faults--faults the greater for their
+absence--and with the blinded eyes of their recognition, she is
+their mother still.  "What advantage then hath the Jew?" asked St
+Paul, and answered in the same breath--"Much every way, chiefly
+because that unto them were committed the oracles of God."  What
+advantage then has the Churchman? is the oft repeated question
+today; and the answer is still the answer of St Paul.
+
+The Incarnation is the sum of all the Sacraments, the crown of the
+material revelation of God to man, the greatest of outward and
+visible signs, "that which we have heard, which we have seen with
+our eyes, which we have looked upon and our hands have handled of
+the word of life."  A strange beginning truly, to usher in a purely
+spiritual dispensation; but beautifully fulfilled in the taking up
+of the earthly into the heavenly--Bread and Wine, the natural
+fruits of the earth, sanctified by man's toil, a sufficiency for
+his needs; and instinct with Divine life through the operation of
+the Holy Ghost.
+
+
+"In the sweat of thy face thou shalt eat bread."
+
+"Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood ye
+have no life in you"
+
+"And the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations."
+
+
+From Genesis to the Revelation of the Divine reaches the rainbow of
+the Sacramental system--outward and visible signs of inward and
+spiritual grace:-
+
+The sacrament of purging, purifying labour, to balance and control
+the knowledge of good and evil:-
+
+The sacrament of life, divine life, with the outward body of
+humiliation, bread and wine, fruit of the accursed ground, but
+useless without man's labour; and St Paul, caught up into the third
+heaven, and St John, with his wide-eyed vision of the Lamb, must
+eat this bread and drink this cup if they would live:-
+
+The sacrament of healing, the restoring of the Image of God in
+fallen man.
+
+The Church is one society, nay, the world is one society, for man
+without his fellow-men is not; and into the society, both of the
+Church and the world, are inextricably woven the most social
+sacraments.
+
+Herein is great purpose, we say, bending the knee; and with deep
+consciousness of sins and shortcomings we stretch out longing
+welcoming hands to our grey brethren with their inheritance of
+faithfulness and steadfastness under persecution, and their many
+gifts and graces; and we cry, in the words of the Song of Songs
+which is Solomon's:  "O my dove, that art in the clefts of the
+rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy
+countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy
+countenance is comely."  "Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come
+away.  For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone."
+
+
+
+A Song of Low Degree
+
+
+
+Lord, I am small, and yet so great,
+The whole world stands to my estate,
+And in Thine Image I create.
+The sea is mine; and the broad sky
+Is mine in its immensity:
+The river and the river's gold;
+The earth's hid treasures manifold;
+The love of creatures small and great,
+Save where I reap a precious hate;
+The noon-tide sun with hot caress,
+The night with quiet loneliness;
+The wind that bends the pliant trees,
+The whisper of the summer breeze;
+The kiss of snow and rain; the star
+That shines a greeting from afar;
+All, all are mine; and yet so small
+Am I, that lo, I needs must call,
+Great King, upon the Babe in Thee,
+And crave that Thou would'st give to me
+The grace of Thy humility.
+
+
+
+A German Christmas Eve
+
+
+
+It was intensely cold; Father Rhine was frozen over, so he may
+speak for it; and for days we had lived to the merry jangle and
+clang of innumerable sleigh bells, in a white and frost-bound
+world.  As I passed through the streets, crowded with stolidly
+admiring peasants from the villages round, I caught the dear
+remembered 'Gruss Gott!' and 'All' Heil!' of the countryside, which
+town life quickly stamps out along with many other gentle
+observances.
+
+"Gelobt sei Jesu Christ!" cried little Sister Hilarius, coming on
+me suddenly at a corner, her round face aglow with the sharp air,
+her arms filled with queer-shaped bundles.  She begs for her sick
+poor as she goes along--meat here, some bread there, a bottle of
+good red wine:  I fancy few refuse her.  She nursed me once, the
+good little sister, with unceasing care and devotion, and all the
+dignity of a scant five feet.  "Ach, Du lieber Gott, such gifts!"
+she added, with a radiant smile, and vanished up a dirty stairway.
+
+In the Quergasse a jay fell dead at my feet--one of the many birds
+which perished thus--he had flown townwards too late.  Up at the
+Jagdschloss the wild creatures, crying a common truce of hunger,
+trooped each day to the clearing by the Jager's cottage for the
+food spread for them.  The great tusked boar of the Taunus with his
+brother of Westphalia, the timid roe deer with her scarcely braver
+mate, foxes, hares, rabbits, feathered game, and tiny songbirds of
+the woods, gathered fearlessly together and fed at the hand of
+their common enemy--a millennial banquet truly.
+
+The market-place was crowded, and there were Christmas trees
+everywhere, crying aloud in bushy nakedness for their rightful
+fruit.  The old peasant women, rolled in shawls, with large
+handkerchiefs tied over their caps, warmed their numb and withered
+hands over little braziers while they guarded the gaily decked
+treasure-laden booths, from whose pent-roofs Father Winter had hung
+a fringe of glittering icicles.
+
+Many of the stalls were entirely given over to Christmas-tree
+splendours.  Long trails of gold and silver Engelshaar, piles of
+candles--red, yellow, blue, green, violet, and white--a rainbow of
+the Christian virtues and the Church's Year; boxes of frost and
+snow, festoons of coloured beads, fishes with gleaming scales,
+glass-winged birds, Santa Klaus in frost-bedecked mantle and
+scarlet cap, angels with trumpets set to their waxen lips; and
+everywhere and above all the image of the Holy Child.  Sometimes it
+was the tiny waxen Bambino, in its pathetic helplessness; sometimes
+the Babe Miraculous, standing with outstretched arms awaiting the
+world's embrace--Mary's Son, held up in loving hands to bless; or
+the Heavenly Child-King with crown and lily sceptre, borne high by
+Joseph, that gentle, faithful servitor.  It was the festival of
+Bethlehem, feast of never-ending keeping, which has its crowning
+splendour on Christmas Day.
+
+A Sister passed with a fat, rosy little girl in either hand; they
+were chattering merrily of the gift they were to buy for the dear
+Christkind, the gift which Sister said He would send some ragged
+child to receive for Him.  They came back to the poor booth close
+to where I was standing.  It was piled with warm garments; and
+after much consultation a little white vest was chosen--the elder
+child rejected pink, she knew the Christkind would like white best-
+-then they trotted off down a narrow turning to the church, and I
+followed.
+
+The Creche stood without the chancel, between the High Altar and
+that of Our Lady of Sorrows.  It was very simple.  A blue paper
+background spangled with stars; a roughly thatched roof supported
+on four rude posts; at the back, ox and ass lying among the straw
+with which the ground was strewn.  The figures were life-size, of
+carved and painted wood:  Joseph, tall and dignified, stood as
+guardian, leaning on his staff; Mary knelt with hands slightly
+uplifted in loving adoration; and the Babe lay in front on a truss
+of straw disposed as a halo.  It was the World's Child, and the
+position emphasised it.  Two or three hard-featured peasants knelt
+telling their beads; and a group of children with round, blue eyes
+and stiff, flaxen pigtails, had gathered in front, and were
+pointing and softly whispering.  My little friends trotted up,
+crossed themselves; it was evidently the little one's first visit.
+
+"Guck! guck mal an," she cried, clapping her fat gloved hands,
+"sieh mal an das Wickelkind!"
+
+"Dass ist unser Jesu," said the elder, and the little one echoed
+"Unser Jesu, unser Jesu!"
+
+Then the vest was brought out and shown--why not, it was the
+Christchild's own?--and the pair trotted away again followed by the
+bright, patient Sister.  Presently everyone clattered out, and I
+was left alone at the crib of Bethlehem, the gate of the Kingdom of
+Heaven.
+
+It was my family, my only family; but like the ever-widening circle
+on the surface of a lake into which a stone has been flung, here,
+from this great centre, spread the wonderful ever-widening
+relationship--the real brotherhood of the world.  It is at the Crib
+that everything has its beginning, not at the Cross; and it is only
+as little children that we can enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.
+
+When I went out again into the streets it was nearly dark.  Anxious
+mothers hurried past on late, mysterious errands; papas who were
+not wanted until the last moment chatted gaily to each other at
+street corners, and exchanged recollections; maidservants hastened
+from shop to shop with large baskets already heavily laden; and the
+children were everywhere, important with secrets, comfortably
+secure in the knowledge of a tree behind the parlour doors, and a
+kindly, generous Saint who knew all their wants, and needed no rod
+THIS year.
+
+One little lad, with a pinched white face, and with only an empty
+certainty to look forward to, was singing shrilly in the sharp,
+still air, "Zu Bethlehem geboren, ist uns ein Kindelein," as he
+gazed wistfully at a shop window piled high with crisp gingerbread,
+marzipan, chocolate under every guise, and tempting cakes.  A great
+rough peasant coming out, saw him, turned back, and a moment later
+thrust a gingerbread Santa Klaus, with currant eyes and sugar
+trimming to his coat and cap, into the half-fearful little hands.
+"Hab' ebenso ein Kerlchen zu Haus'," he said to me apologetically
+as he passed.
+
+I waited to see Santa Klaus disappear; but no, the child looked at
+the cake, sighed deeply with the cruel effort of resistance, and
+refrained.  It was all his Christmas and he would keep it.  He
+gazed and gazed, then a smile rippled across the wan little face
+and he broke out in another carol, "Es kam ein Engel hell und klar
+vom Himmel zu der Hirten Schaar," and hugging his Santa Klaus
+carefully, wandered away down the now brilliant streets:  he did
+not know he was hungry any more; the angel had come with good
+tidings.
+
+As I passed along the streets I could see through the uncurtained
+windows that in some houses Christmas had begun already for the
+little ones.  Then the bells rang out deep-mouthed, carrying the
+call of the eager Church to her children, far up the valley and
+across the frozen river.  And they answered; the great church was
+packed from end to end, and from my place by the door I saw that
+two tiny Christmas trees bright with coloured candles burnt either
+side of the Holy Child.
+
+A blue-black sky ablaze with stars for His glory, a fresh white
+robe for stained and tired earth; so we went to Bethlehem in the
+rare stillness of the early morning.  The Church, having no stars,
+had lighted candles; and we poor sinful men having no white robes
+of our own had craved them of the Great King at her hands.
+
+And so in the stillness, with tapers within and stars alight
+without, with a white-clad earth, and souls forgiven, the Christ
+Child came to those who looked for His appearing.
+
+
+
+A Christmas Idyll
+
+
+
+The Child with the wondering eyes sat on the doorstep, on either
+side of her a tramp cat in process of becoming a recognised member
+of society.  On the flagged path in front the brown brethren were
+picking up crumbs.  The cats' whiskers trembled, but they sat
+still, proudly virtuous, and conscious each of a large saucer of
+warm milk within.
+
+"What," said the Child, "is a symbol?"
+
+The cats looked grave.
+
+The Child rose, went into the house, and returned with a well-
+thumbed brown book.  She turned the pages thoughtfully, and read
+aloud, presumably for the benefit of the cats:  "In a symbol there
+is concealment yet revelation, the infinite is made to blend with
+the finite, to stand visible, and as it were attainable there."
+The Child sighed, "We had better go to the Recluse," she said.  So
+the three went.
+
+It was a cold, clear, bright day, a typical Christmas Eve.  There
+was a carpet of crisp snow on the ground, and a fringe of icicles
+hung from every vantage-point.  The cats, not having been
+accustomed to the delights of domesticity, trotted along cheerfully
+despite the chill to their toes; and they soon came to the forest
+which all three knew very well indeed.  It was a beautiful forest
+like a great cathedral, with long aisles cut between the splendid
+upstanding pine trees.  The green-fringed boughs were heavy with
+snow, the straight strong stems caught and reflected the stray sun
+rays, and looking up through the arches and delicate tracery and
+interlaced branches the eye caught the wonderful blue of the great
+domed roof overhead.  The cats walked delicately, fearful of
+temptation in the way of rabbits or frost-tamed birds, and the
+Child lilted a quaint German hymn to a strange old tune:-
+
+
+"Ein Kind gebor'n zu Bethlehem.
+Alleluja!
+Dess freuet sich Jerusalem,
+Alleluja!  Alleluja!"
+
+
+The Recluse was sitting on a bench outside his cave.  He was
+dressed in a brown robe, his eyes were like stars wrapped in brown
+velvet, his face was strong and gentle, his hair white although he
+looked quite young.  He greeted the Child very kindly and stroked
+the cats.
+
+"You have come to ask me a question, Child?"
+
+"If you please," said the Child, "what is a symbol?"
+
+"Ah," said the Recluse, "I might have known you would ask me that."
+
+"The Sage says," went on the Child, "that it is concealment yet
+revelation."
+
+The Recluse nodded.
+
+"Just as a mystery that we cannot understand is the greatest
+possible wisdom.  Go in and sit by my fire, Child; there are
+chestnuts on the hearth, and you will find milk in the brown jug.
+I will show you a symbol presently."
+
+The Child and the two cats went into the cave and sat down by the
+fire.  It was warm and restful after the biting air.  The cats
+purred pleasantly, the Child sat with her chin in her hand watching
+the glowing wood burn red and white on the great hearthstone.
+
+"The Recluse generally answers my questions by showing me something
+I have seen for a long time but never beheld, or heard and never
+lent ear.  I wonder what it will be this time," she said to
+herself.
+
+The grateful warmth made the Child sleepy, and she gave a start
+when she found the Recluse standing by her with outstretched hand.
+
+"Come, dear Child," he said; and leaving the sleeping cats she
+followed him, her hand in his.
+
+The air was full of wonderful sound, voices and song, and the cry
+of the bells.
+
+The Child wondered, and then remembered it was Christmas night.
+The Recluse led her down a little passage and opened a door.  They
+stepped out together, but not into the forest.
+
+"This is the front door of my house," said the Recluse, with a
+little smile.
+
+They stood on a white road, on one side a stretch of limestone
+down, on the other steep terraces with gardens and vineyard.  The
+air was soft and warm, and sweet with the breath of lilies.  The
+heaven was ablaze with stars; across the plain to the east the dawn
+was breaking.  A group of strangely-clad men went down the road
+followed by a flock of sheep.
+
+"Let us go with them," said the Recluse; and hand in hand they
+went.
+
+The road curved to the right; round the bend, cut in the living
+rock, was a cave; the shepherds stopped and knelt, and there was no
+sound but the soft rapid breathing of the flock.  Then the Child
+was filled with an overmastering longing, a desire so great that
+the tears sprang hot to her eyes.  She dropped the Recluse's hand
+and went forward where the shepherds knelt.  Once again the air was
+full of wonderful sound, voices and song, and the cry of the bells;
+but within all was silence.  The cave was rough-hewn, and stabled
+an ox and an ass; close to the front a tall strong man leaning on a
+staff kept watch and ward; within knelt a peasant Maid, and on a
+heap of yellow straw lay a tiny new-born Babe loosely wrapped in a
+linen cloth:  around and above were wonderful figures of fire and
+mist.
+
+The infinite, visible and attainable.
+
+The mystery which is the greatest possible wisdom.
+
+* * * * *
+
+"Come, Child," said the Recluse.
+
+The fire had burnt low; it was quite dark, save for the glow of the
+live embers.
+
+He threw on a great dry pine log; it flared like a torch.  The
+cats' stretched in the sudden blaze, and then settled to sleep
+again.  The Child and the Recluse passed out into the forest.  The
+moon was very bright and the snow reflected its rays, so that it
+was light in spite of the great trees.  The air was full of
+wonderful sound, voices and song, and the cry of the bells; and the
+Child sang as she went in a half-dream by the side of the Recluse:-
+
+
+"In dieser heil'gen Weihnachtszeit,
+Alleluja!
+Sei, Gott der Herr, gebenedeit,
+Alleluja! Alleluja!"
+
+
+and wondered when she would wake up.  They came to the old, old
+church in the forest, and the pictured saints looked out at them
+from the lighted window; through the open door they could see
+figures moving about with tapers in their hands; save for these the
+church was still empty.
+
+The Recluse led the way up the nave to the north side of the Altar.
+The Child started a little; she was really dreaming then a kind of
+circular dream, for again she stood before the cave, again the
+reverend figure kept watch and ward over the kneeling Maid and the
+little Babe.  The sheep and the shepherds were not there, but a
+little lamb had strayed in; and the wonderful figures of fire and
+mist--they were there in their place.
+
+"Little one," said the Recluse softly, "here is a symbol--
+concealment yet revelation--the King as servant--the strong
+helpless--the Almighty a little child; and thus the infinite stands
+revealed for all of us, visible and attainable, if we will have it
+so.  It is the centre of all mystery, the greatest possible wisdom,
+the Eternal Child."
+
+"You showed it me before," said the Child, "only we were out of
+doors, and the shepherds were there with the sheep; but the angels
+are here just the same."
+
+The Recluse bowed his head.
+
+"Wait for me here with them, dear Child, I will fetch you after
+service."
+
+The church began to fill; old men in smock frocks and tall hats,
+little children wrapped warm against the cold, lads, shining and
+spruce, old women in crossed shawls and wonderful bonnets.  The
+service was not very long; then the Recluse went up into the old
+grey stone pulpit.  The villagers settled to listen--he did not
+often preach.
+
+"My brothers and sisters, to-night we keep the Birth of the Holy
+Babe, and to-night you and I stand at the gate of the Kingdom of
+Heaven, the gate which is undone only at the cry of a little child.
+'Except ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall not
+enter.'
+
+"The Kingdom is a great one, nay, a limitless one; and many enter
+in calling it by another name.  It includes your own hearts and
+this wonderful forest, all the wise and beautiful works that men
+have ever thought of or done, and your daily toil; it includes your
+nearest and dearest, the outcast, the prisoner, and the stranger;
+it holds your cottage home and the jewelled City, the New Jerusalem
+itself.  People are apt to think the Kingdom of Heaven is like
+church on Sunday, a place to enter once a week in one's best:
+whereas it holds every flower, and has room for the ox and the ass,
+and the least of all creatures, as well as for our prayer and
+worship and praise.
+
+"'Except ye become as little children.'  How are we to be born
+again, simple children with wondering eyes?
+
+"We must learn to lie in helpless dependence, to open our mouth
+wide that it may be filled, to speak with halting tongue the
+language we think we know; we must learn above all our own
+ignorance, and keep alight and cherish the flame of innocency in
+our hearts.
+
+"It is a tired world, my brethren, and we are most of us tired men
+and women who live on it, for we seek ever after some new thing.
+Let us pass out through the gate into the Kingdom of Heaven and not
+be tired any more, because there we shall find the new thing that
+we seek.  Heaven is on earth, the Kingdom is here and now; the gate
+stands wide to-night, for it is the birthright of the Eternal
+Child.  We are none of us too poor, or stupid, or lowly; it was the
+simple shepherds who saw Him first.  We are none of us too great,
+or learned, or rich; it was the three wise kings who came next and
+offered gifts.  We are none of us too young; it was little children
+who first laid down their lives for Him; or too old, for Simeon saw
+and recognised Him.  There is only one thing against most of us--we
+are too proud.
+
+"My brethren, 'let us now go even to Bethlehem, and face this thing
+which is come to pass, which the LORD hath made known unto us.'"
+
+
+The lights were out in the church when the Recluse came to fetch
+the Child.  She was still kneeling by the creche, keeping watch
+with the wonderful figures of fire and mist.
+
+"Was THIS a dream or the other?" said the Child.
+
+"Neither," said the Recluse, and he blessed her in the moonlit
+dark.
+
+The air was full of wonderful sound, voices and song, and the cry
+of the bells.
+
+
+
+The Manifestation
+
+
+
+God said; "Let there be light"; and in the East
+A star rose flaming from night's purple sea -
+The star of Truth, the star of Joy, the star
+Seen by the prophets down the lonely years;
+Set for a light to show the Perfect Way;
+Set for a sign that wayfarers might find;
+Set for a seal to mark the Godhead's home.
+And three Kings in their palaces afar,
+Who waited ardently for promised things,
+Beheld, and read aright.  Straightway the road
+Was hot with pad of camel, horse's hoof,
+While night was quick as day with spurring men
+And light with flaring torch.  "Haste, haste!" they cried,
+"We seek the King, the King! for in the East
+His star's alight."
+
+
+BETHLEHEM
+
+
+The Angels
+
+Soft and slow, soft and slow,
+With angels' wings of fire and snow,
+To rock Him gently to and fro.
+Fire to stay the chill at night,
+Snow to cool the noonday bright;
+And overhead His star's alight.
+
+Pale and sweet, pale and sweet,
+Maid Mary keeps her vigil meet,
+While Joseph waits with patient feet.
+Mary's love for soft embrace,
+Joseph's strength to guard the place.
+Lo! from the East Kings ride apace.
+
+Gold and myrrh, gold and myrrh,
+Frankincense for harbinger,
+Myrrh to make His sepulchre.
+Roses white and roses red,
+Thorns arrayed for His dear Head.
+Hail! hail! Wise Men who seek His bed
+
+
+Joseph
+
+
+Little One, Little One, Saviour and Child,
+Father and Mother, my Husband and Son;
+Born of the lily, the maid undefiled,
+Babe of my Love, the Beatified One.
+
+Little One, Little One, Master and LORD,
+Kings of the Earth come, desiring Thy Face;
+I, Thy poor servitor, lowly afford
+All that my life holds, for all is Thy Grace.
+
+Little One, Little One, GOD over all,
+Earth is thy footstool, and Heav'n is Thy throne:
+Joseph the carpenter, prostrate I fall;
+Praise thee, adore Thee, and claim Thee mine own.
+
+
+Maid Mary
+
+
+Babe, dear Babe!
+Mine own, mine own, my heart's delight,
+The myrrh between my breasts at night,
+My little Rose, my Lily white,
+My Babe for whom the star's alight.
+
+Babe, dear Babe!
+Mine own, mine own, GOD'S only SON,
+Foretold, foreseen, since earth begun;
+Desire of nations, Promised One
+When Eve was first by sin undone.
+
+Babe, dear Babe!
+Mine own, mine own, the whole world's Child!
+Born of each heart that's undefiled,
+Nursed at the breast of Mercy mild,
+And in the arms of Love asiled.
+
+Babe, dear Babe!
+My crown of glory, sorrow's sword,
+My Maker, King, Redeemer, Lord,
+My Saviour and my great Reward;
+My little Son, my Babe adored.
+
+
+The Three Kings
+
+
+Hail!  Hail thou wondrous little King!
+To Thy dear Feet
+Our offerings meet
+With bended knee we bring;
+O mighty baby King,
+Accept the offering.
+
+
+First King
+
+
+LORD, I stoop low
+My head of snow,
+Thus I, the great, hail Thee, the Least!
+And swing the censer for the Priest,
+The Priest with hands upraised to bless,
+The Priest of this world's bitterness.
+As I stoop low
+My head of snow,
+Bless me, O Priest, before I go.
+
+
+Second King
+
+
+Behold me, King!
+A man of might,
+Who rules dominions infinite;
+Strong in the harvest of the years,
+And one who counts no kings as peers.
+O little King,
+Behold my crown!
+I lay it down,
+And bow before Thy lowly bed
+My all unworthy uncrowned head,
+For I am naught and Thou art All.
+And Thou shalt climb a throne set high,
+Between sad earth and silent sky,
+Thereon to agonize and die;
+And at Thy Feet the world shall fall.
+Stretch out Thy little Hands, O King,
+Behold the world's imagining!
+
+
+Third King
+
+
+Out of the shadow of the night
+I come, led by the starshine bright,
+With broken heart to bring to Thee
+The fruit of Thine Epiphany,
+The gift my fellows send by me,
+The myrrh to bed Thine agony.
+I set it here beneath Thy Feet,
+In token of Death's great defeat;
+And hail Thee Conqueror in the strife;
+And hail Thee Lord of Light and Life.
+All hail!  All hail the Virgin's Son!
+All hail!  Thou little helpless One!
+All hail!  Thou King upon the Tree!
+All hail!  The Babe on Mary's knee,
+The centre of all mystery!
+
+
+
+All Souls' Day in a German Town
+
+
+
+The leaves fall softly:  a wind of sighs
+Whispers the world's infirmities,
+Whispers the tale of the waning years,
+While slow mists gather in shrouding tears
+On All Souls' Day; and the bells are slow
+In steeple and tower.  Sad folk go
+Away from the township, past the mill,
+And mount the slope of a grassy hill
+Carved into terraces broad and steep,
+To the inn where wearied travellers sleep,
+Where the sleepers lie in ordered rows,
+And no man stirs in his long repose.
+They wend their way past the haunts of life,
+Father and daughter, grandmother, wife,
+To deck with candle and deathless cross,
+The house which holds their dearest loss.
+I, who stand on the crest of the hill,
+Watch how beneath me, busied still,
+The sad folk wreathe each grave with flowers.
+Awhile the veil of the twilight hours
+Falls softly, softly, over the hill,
+Shadows the cross:- creeps on until
+Swiftly upon us is flung the dark.
+Then, as if lit by a sudden spark,
+Each grave is vivid with points of light,
+Earth is as Heaven's mirror to-night;
+The air is still as a spirit's breath,
+The lights burn bright in the realm of Death.
+Then silent the mourners mourning go,
+Wending their way to the church below;
+While the bells toll out to bid them speed,
+With eager Pater and prayerful bead,
+The souls of the dead, whose bodies still
+Lie in the churchyard under the hill;
+While they wait and wonder in Paradise,
+And gaze on the dawning mysteries,
+Praying for us in our hours of need;
+For us, who with Pater and prayerful bead
+Have bidden those waiting spirits speed.
+
+
+
+Rivers and Streams
+
+
+
+Running water has a charm all its own; it proffers companionship of
+which one never tires; it adapts itself to moods; it is the
+guardian of secrets.  It has cool draughts for the thirsty soul as
+well as for drooping flowers; and they who wander in the garden of
+God with listening ears learn of its many voices.
+
+When the strain of a working day has left me weary, perhaps
+troubled and perplexed, I find my way to the river.  I step into a
+boat and pull up stream until the exertion has refreshed me; and
+then I make fast to the old alder-stump where last year the reed-
+piper nested, and lie back in the stern and think.
+
+The water laps against the keel as the boat rocks gently in the
+current; the river flows past, strong and quiet.  There are side
+eddies, of course, and little disturbing whirlpools near the big
+stones, but they are all gathered into the broad sweep of the
+stream, carried down to the great catholic sea.  And while I listen
+to the murmur of the water and watch its quiet strength the day's
+wrinkles are smoothed out of my face; and at last the river bears
+me homeward rested and at peace.
+
+There are long stretches of time for me when I must remain apart
+from the world of work, often unwilling, sometimes with a very sore
+heart.  Then I turn my steps towards my friend and wander along the
+banks, a solitary not alone.  In the quiet evening light I watch
+the stream 'never hasting, never resting':  the grass that grows
+beside it is always green, the flowers are fresh; it makes long
+embracing curves--I could cross from point to point in a minute,
+but to follow takes five.  The ways of the water are ways of
+healing; I have a companion who makes no mistakes, touches none of
+my tender spots.
+
+Presently I reach the silent pool, where the stream takes a wide
+sweep.  Here the fair white water-lilies lie on their broad green
+leaves and wait for their lover the moon; for then they open their
+silvery leaves and bloom in the soft light fairer far than beneath
+the hot rays of the sun.  Then, too, the buds rise out of the water
+and the moon kisses them into bloom and fragrance.  Near by are the
+little yellow water-lilies, set for beauty against a background of
+great blue-eyed forget-me-nots and tall feathery meadowsweet.  The
+river still sweeps on its way, but the pool is undisturbed; it lies
+out of the current.  They say it is very deep--no one knows quite
+how deep--and it has its hidden tragedy.  I gaze down through the
+clear water, following the thick lily-stalks--a forest where solemn
+carp sail in and out and perch chase each other through the maze--
+and beyond them I cannot see the bottom, the secret of its
+stillness; but I may watch the clouds mirrored on its surface, and
+the evening glow lying at my feet.
+
+I think of the fathomless depths of the peace of God, fair with
+flowers of hope; of still places wrought in man; of mirrors that
+reflect, in light uncomprehended, the Image of the Holy Face.
+
+I go home across the common, comforted, towards the little town
+where the red roofs lie glimmering in the evening shadows, and the
+old grey church stands out clear and distinct against the fading
+sky.
+
+* * * * *
+
+One of the happiest memories of my childhood is the little brook in
+the home field.  I know it was not a very clean little brook--it
+passed through an industrious manufacturing world--but to me then
+this mattered not at all.
+
+Where it had its source I never found out; it came from a little
+cave in the side of the hill, and I remember that one of its banks
+was always higher than the other.  I once sought to penetrate the
+cave, but with sad results in the shape of bed before dinner and no
+pudding, such small sympathy have one's elders with the spirit of
+research.  Just beyond the cave the brook was quite a respectable
+width,--even my big boy cousin fell into mud and disgrace when he
+tried to jump it--and there was a gravelly beach, at least several
+inches square, where we launched our boats of hollowed elder-wood.
+Soon, however, it narrowed, it could even be stepped over; but it
+was still exciting and delightful, with two perilous rapids over
+which the boats had to be guided, and many boulders--for the brook
+was a brave stream, and had fashioned its bed in rocky soil.
+Further down was our bridge, one flat stone dragged thither by
+really herculean efforts.  It was unnecessary, but a triumph.  A
+little below this outcome of our engineering skill the brook
+widened again before disappearing under a flagged tunnel into the
+neighbouring field.  Here, in the shallows, we built an aquarium.
+It was not altogether successful, because whenever it rained at all
+hard the beasts were washed out; but there was always joy in
+restocking it.  Under one of the banks close by lived a fat frog
+for whom I felt great respect.  We used to sit and gaze at each
+other in silent intercourse, until he became bored--I think I never
+did--and flopped into the water with a splash.
+
+But it was the brook itself that was my chief and dearest
+companion.  It chattered and sang to me, and told me of the goblins
+who lived under the hill, of fairies dancing on the grass on
+moonlight nights, and scolding the pale lilac milk-maids on the
+banks; and of a sad little old man dressed in brown, always sad
+because his dear water-children ran away from him when they heard
+the voice of the great river telling them of the calling of the
+sea.
+
+It spoke to me of other more wonderful things, not even now to be
+put into words, things of the mysteries of a child's imagination;
+and these linger still in my life, and will linger, I think, until
+they are fulfilled.
+
+* * * * *
+
+I have another friend--a Devonshire stream.  I found it in spring
+when the fields along its banks were golden with Lent-lilies.  I do
+not even know its name; it has its source up among the old grey
+tors, and doubtless in its beginning had a hard fight for
+existence.  When it reaches the plain it is a good-sized stream,
+although nowhere navigable.  I do not think it even turns a mill;
+it just flows along and waters the flowers.  I have seen it with my
+bodily eyes only once; but it has left in my life a blessing, a
+picture of blue sky, yellow bells, and clear rippling water--and
+whispered secrets not forgotten.
+
+All the Devonshire streams are full of life and strength.  They
+chatter cheerily over stones, they toil bravely to shape out their
+bed.  Some of them might tell horrible tales of the far-away past,
+of the worship of the false god when blood stained the clear
+waters; tales, too, of feud and warfare, of grave council and
+martial gathering; and happy stories of fairy and pixy our eyes are
+too dull to see, and of queer little hillmen with foreign ways and
+terror of all human beings.  Their banks are bright with tormentil,
+blue with forget-me-not, rich in treasures of starry moss; the
+water is clear, cool in the hottest summer--they rise under the
+shadow of the everlasting hills, and their goal is the sea.
+
+* * * * *
+
+There are other times when I must leave the clean waters and the
+good brown earth, to live, for a while, in London:  and there I go
+on pilgrimage that I may listen to the river's voice.
+
+I stand sometimes at a wharf where the ships are being unloaded of
+the riches of every country, of fruits of labour by my unknown
+brothers in strange lands; and the river speaks of citizenship in
+the great world of God, wherein all men have place, each man have
+his own place, and every one should be neighbour to him who may
+have need.
+
+I pass on to London Bridge, our Bridge of Sighs.  How many of these
+my brethren have sought refuge in the cold grey arms of the river
+from something worse than death?  What drove them to this dreadful
+resting-place?  What spectre hurried them to the leap?  These
+things, too, are my concern, the river says.
+
+Life is very grim in London:  it is not painted in the fair,
+glowing colours of grass and sky and trees, and shining streams
+that bring peace.  It is drawn in hard black and white; but the
+voice of its dark waters must be heard all the same.
+
+* * * * *
+
+I would not leave my rivers in the shadow.  After all, this life is
+only a prelude, a beginning:  we pass on to where "the rivers and
+streams make glad the city of God."  But if we will not listen here
+how shall we understand hereafter.
+
+
+
+Spring
+
+
+
+Hark how the merry daffodils,
+Fling golden music to the hills!
+And how the hills send echoing down,
+Through wind-swept turf and moorland brown,
+The murmurs of a thousand rills
+That mock the song-birds' liquid trills!
+The hedge released from Winter's frown
+Shews jewelled branch and willow crown;
+While all the earth with pleasure trills,
+And 'dances with the daffodils.'
+
+Out, out, ye flowers!  Up and shout!
+Staid Winter's passed and Spring's about
+To lead your ranks in joyous rout;
+To string the hawthorn's milky pearls,
+And gild the grass with celandine;
+To dress the catkins' tasselled curls,
+To twist the tendrils of the vine.
+She wakes the wind-flower from her sleep,
+And lights the woods with April's moon;
+The violets lift their heads to peep,
+The daisies brave the sun at noon.
+
+The gentle wind from out the west
+Toys with the lilac pretty maids;
+Ruffles the meadow's verdant-vest,
+And rings the bluebells in the glades;
+The ash-buds change their sombre suit,
+The orchards blossom white and red -
+Promise of Autumn's riper fruit,
+When Spring's voluptuousness has fled.
+Awake! awake, O throstle sweet!
+And haste with all your choir to greet
+This Queen who comes with wakening feet.
+
+Persephone with grateful eyes
+Salutes the Sun--'tis Paradise:
+Then hastens down the dewy meads,
+Past where the herd contented feeds,
+Past where the furrows hide the grain,
+For harvesting of sun and rain;
+To where Demeter patient stands
+With longing lips and outstretched hands,
+Until the dawning of one face
+Across the void of time and space
+Shall bring again her day of grace.
+Rejoice, O Earth!  Rejoice and sing!
+This is the promise of the Spring,
+And this the world's remembering.
+
+
+
+A Lark's Song
+
+
+
+Sweet, sweet!
+I rise to greet
+The sapphire sky
+The air slips by
+On either side
+As up I ride
+On mounting wing,
+And sing and sing -
+Then reach my bliss,
+The sun's great kiss;
+And poise a space
+To see his face,
+Sweet, sweet,
+In radiant grace,
+Ah, sweet! ah, sweet!
+
+Sweet, sweet!
+Beneath my feet
+My nestlings call:
+And down I fall
+Unerring, true,
+Through heaven's blue;
+And haste to fill
+Each noisy bill.
+My brooding breast
+Stills their unrest.
+Sweet, sweet,
+Their quick hearts beat,
+Safe in the nest:
+Ah, sweet, sweet, sweet!
+Ah, sweet!
+
+Sweet, sweet
+The calling sky
+That bids me fly
+Up--up--on high.
+Sweet, sweet
+The claiming earth;
+It holds my nest
+And draws me down
+To where Love's crown
+Of priceless worth
+Awaits my breast.
+Sweet, sweet!
+Ah, this is best
+And this most meet,
+Sweet, sweet! ah, sweet!
+
+
+
+'Luvly Miss'
+
+
+
+Nobody thought of consequences.  There was a lighted paraffin lamp
+on the table and nothing else handy.  Mrs Brown's head presented a
+tempting mark, and of course Mr Brown's lengthy stay at 'The Three
+Fingers' had something to do with it; but nobody thought of Miss
+Brown, aged four, who was playing happily on the floor, unruffled
+by the storm to which she was so well accustomed.
+
+Mrs Brown ducked; there was a smash, a scream, and poor little Miss
+Brown was in a blaze.  The shock sobered the father and silenced
+the mother.  Miss Brown was extinguished with the aid of a table-
+cover, much water, and many neighbours; but she was horribly burnt
+all over, except her face.
+
+* * * * *
+
+I made Miss Brown's acquaintance a few days later.  She was lying
+on a bed made up on two chairs, and was covered with cotton wool.
+She had scarcely any pain, and could not move at all; and the small
+face that peered out of what she called her "pitty warm snow" was
+wan and drawn and had a far-away look in the dark eyes.
+
+Miss Brown possessed one treasure, her 'luvly miss.'  I suppose I
+must call it a doll, though in what its claim to the title
+consisted I dared not ask; Miss Brown would have deeply resented
+the enquiry.  It was a very large potato with a large and a small
+bulge.  Into the large bulge were inserted three pieces of fire-
+wood, the body and arms of 'luvly miss'; legs she had none.
+
+How Miss Brown came by this treasure I never heard.  She had an
+impression that it "flied froo the winder"--I fancy Mr Brown had a
+hand in the manufacture in one of his lucid moments; but it was a
+treasure indeed and the joy of Miss Brown's life.  She held long
+conversations with 'luvly miss' on all familiar subjects; and
+apparently obtained much strange and rare information from her.
+For example, Miss Brown and 'luvly miss' in some previous stage of
+their existence had inhabited a large chimney-pot together, "where
+it was always so warm and a bootie 'mell of cookin'.'"  Also she
+had a rooted belief that one day she and 'luvly miss' would be
+"hangels wiv' black weils and basticks."  This puzzled me for some
+time, until I discovered it to be an allusion to the good deaconess
+who attended her, and whom Mrs Brown in gratitude designated by
+this title.
+
+Alas for little Miss Brown and her 'luvly miss'! their respective
+ends were drawing near.  I went in one Friday, a week or so after
+the accident, and found Mrs Brown in tears and despair, and Miss
+Brown with a look of anguish on her poor little pinched face that
+was bad to see.  'Luvly Miss' was no more.
+
+It was Mr Brown again; or, to trace back the links of occasion, it
+was the action of 'The Three Fingers' on Mr Brown's frail
+constitution.  He had come in late, seen 'luvly miss' on the table,
+and, with his usual heedlessness of consequence, had chucked her
+into the dying embers where--alas that I should have to say it!--
+she slowly baked.  Little Miss Brown, when the miserable truth was
+broken to her, neither wept nor remonstrated; she lay quite still
+with a look of utter forsaken wretchedness on her tiny white face,
+and moaned very softly for 'luvly miss.'
+
+I came face to face with this state of things and I confess it
+staggered me.  I knew Miss Brown too well to hope that any pink-
+and-white darling from the toy-shop could replace 'luvly miss,' or
+that she could be persuaded to admit even a very image of the dear
+departed into her affections.  Then, too, the doctor said Miss
+Brown had but a few days at the most, perhaps only hours, to live;
+and comforted she must be.
+
+All at once I had an inspiration, and never in my life have I
+welcomed one more.  I knelt down by little Miss Brown and told her
+the story of the Phoenix.  I had not reckoned in vain upon her
+imagination:  would I "yerely and twooly bwing" her "werry own
+luvly miss out of the ashes?"  I lied cheerfully and hastened away
+to the dust-bin, accompanied by Mrs Brown.
+
+In a few minutes we returned with a pail of ashes, the ashes, of
+course, of 'luvly miss' mingled with those of the cruel fire which
+had consumed her.  I danced solemnly round them, murmured
+mysterious words, parted the ashes, and revealed the form of 'luvly
+miss.'  Love's eyes were not sharp to mark a change, and little
+Miss Brown's misplaced faith in me was strong.  Never shall I
+forget the scream of joy which greeted the restored treasure, or
+the relief with which I saw an expression of peace settle once more
+on Miss Brown's face.
+
+I saw them again next day.  Little Miss Brown was asleep in her
+last little bed, still wrapped in the "pitty warm snow," and 'luvly
+miss' lay beside her.
+
+
+
+
+Four Stories Told to Children
+
+
+
+
+The Story of the Dreadful Griffin.
+
+
+
+My Dear Children,--I am going to tell you a really breathless story
+for your holiday treat.  It will have to begin with the moral,
+because everyone will be too much exhausted to read one at the end,
+and as the moral is the only part that really matters, it is
+important to come to it quite fresh.
+
+We will, therefore, endeavour to learn from this story:-
+
+
+If we fly at all, to fly HIGH.
+To be extremely polite.
+To be kind and grateful to cats and all other animals.
+
+
+All the trouble arose one day when the Princess (there is always a
+Princess in a fairy-tale, you know) was playing in the garden with
+her ball.  She threw it up in the air much higher than usual and it
+never came down again.  There was an awful shriek, like ten
+thousand steam-engines; all the ladies-in-waiting fainted in a row,
+the inhabitants of the place went stone-deaf, and the Captain of
+the Guard, who was in attendance with a company of his troops,
+seized the Princess, put her on his horse, galloped away followed
+by his soldiers to a castle on the top of a hill, deposited the
+Princess in the highest room, and then and only then, told her what
+had happened.
+
+"Miss," he said, for he was so upset he forgot Court etiquette,
+"Miss, your ball must have hit the Dreadful Griffin in the eye (I
+noticed he was taking a little fly in the neighbourhood), and that
+was the reason of the awful shriek.  Well, Miss, the Dreadful
+Griffin never was known to forgive anybody anything, so I snatched
+you up quick before he could get at you and brought you to the
+Castle of the White Cats.  There are seventeen of these animals
+sitting outside the door and twenty-seven more standing in the
+courtyard, so you're as safe as safe can be, for the Dreadful
+Griffin can't look at a white cat without getting the ague and then
+he shakes so a mouse wouldn't be afraid of him.  And now, Miss, I
+must go back to your Royal Pa, so I will wish you good-morning."
+
+Having made this long speech the Captain suddenly remembered the
+Court etiquette, became very hot and red, went out of the room
+backwards, and instantly fell over the seventeen cats who all swore
+at him, which so confused the poor man that he rolled down the
+stairs and out into the court where the twenty-seven cats were
+having rations of mouse-pie served out to them; and the Captain
+rolled into the middle of the pie, scalded himself badly with the
+gravy, and was thankful to jump on his horse and ride away with his
+soldiers to report matters to the King.
+
+The King was so pleased with his promptitude that he made him the
+General of the Flying Squadron, which only fights in the air, and
+conferred on him the medal of the Society for the Suppression of
+Superfluous Salamanders, whereat the Captain was overjoyed.
+
+But this is a digression, and I only told you because I wanted you
+to see that virtue is always rewarded.
+
+Now for the poor Princess.
+
+Well, she cried a little, of course, but the cats brought her some
+mouse-pie, which she found very good, and she was soon quite happy
+playing with some of the kittens and nearly forgot all about the
+Dreadful Griffin; but he did not forget about HER, oh dear no!  He
+flew after the Captain when he galloped away with the Princess, but
+when he saw the White Cats he shook with ague so fearfully that his
+teeth rolled about in his mouth like billiard balls and he had to
+go and get a new set before he could eat his dinner.  Well, he was
+in a perfect fury, and how to get at the Princess he did not know.
+He swallowed several buckets of hot brimstone, rolled his head in a
+red flannel petticoat, put his tail in a hot sand-bag, and went to
+bed hoping to cure the ague, which he did completely, so that he
+was quite well next day and more anxious to eat the Princess than
+ever.
+
+Now next door to the Dreadful Griffin (that is, a hundred miles
+away) there lived a Wicked Witch, and he went to consult her as to
+how he might get at the Princess.  When the Wicked Witch heard what
+a sad effect White Cats had on the Griffin's constitution she said
+that she would have expected a Griffin of his coils to have had
+more sense.
+
+"Any slow-worm knows," said the Wicked Witch, "that cats love mice
+better than Princesses; therefore get a large sack of fat mice, let
+them loose a little way from the castle, and when the cats see them
+they will run after them, and you can eat the Princess."
+
+The Dreadful Griffin was so pleased with the Wicked Witch that he
+presented her with a pair of fire-bricks and a hot-water tin, and
+then flew away to the Purveyor of Mice, who lived in a town about
+seventy miles away.  He bought twelve hundred dozen fat mice of the
+best quality, all the Purveyor had in stock that were home-grown,
+and flew on with them to the castle.  When he was a little way off
+he let the mice out, expecting all the cats to arrive at once; but
+not a cat appeared.  They HEARD mice and they SMELT mice, but not a
+cat moved, for they were on their honour; so they kept guard and
+licked their lips sadly.  When the Griffin saw the last of the
+twelve hundred dozen mice disappearing down the road with never a
+cat after them, he was in a tremendous temper and flew away to the
+house of the Wicked Witch, only stopping to pick up a steam engine
+which he dropped through her roof, and then went home to bed.  Next
+day he remembered a friend of his called the Grumpy Giant, who
+lived six doors away, that is, about a thousand miles, so he flew
+to ask his advice.  When the Giant heard his story, he said in the
+gruffest voice you ever heard, "Mice is common, try sparrers" (by
+which you can see that he was quite an uneducated person), and then
+he turned over and went to sleep.
+
+The Dreadful Griffin at once flew away to the Sparrow Preserves,
+bought eleven thousand, and then proceeded to let them fly close to
+the castle.  Still not a cat moved.  As the cats' copy-book well
+says, "Honour is dearer to cats than mice or birds," and all the
+kittens write this in round-hand as soon as they can do lessons at
+all, and never forget it.
+
+Well, I really dare not describe the state of mind the Griffin was
+in; but he made the air so hot that all the people put on their
+thinnest clothes, although it was the middle of winter.  He flew
+home puffing and snorting, and on the way he passed the house of
+the Amiable Answerer.  He went in and told his story, and his voice
+shook with rage.  The Amiable Answerer gave him a penny pink ice to
+cool him down, and then said gently:-
+
+"I think, dear Mr Griffin, that green spectacles would meet your
+case.  Then the cats which are now white would appear to you green
+and . . . "
+
+But the Griffin was already half-way to a Watchmaker's where they
+sold glasses.  He burst into the shop, frightened the watchmaker so
+that he fell into the works of the watch he was mending and could
+only be got out with the greatest difficulty, seized twelve pairs
+of green spectacles, put them on all at once and flew towards the
+castle.
+
+Now the Dreadful Griffin was one of those creatures who do not stop
+to think, consequently he came to grief.  White cats gave him the
+ague, but green dogs made him cough most fearfully; and a little
+way out of the town he met thirteen white poodles taking a walk,
+who of course all looked bright green to the Dreadful Griffin.  He
+coughed so fearfully that all the twelve pairs of spectacles fell
+off his nose and were smashed to bits, and his plan was spoilt once
+more.
+
+No, I am not going to tell you what the Dreadful Griffin said and
+did then, it is too terrible to speak of, but he had to keep in bed
+for a week, and drink hot tar, and have his chest ironed with a
+steam roller, and his nose greased with seven pounds of tallow
+candles; but all his misfortunes did not cure him of wanting to eat
+the Princess.  When his cough was better, he went for a walk in the
+wood near which he lived, to think out a new plan.  Suddenly he
+heard something croaking, and saw the Fat Frog sitting under a
+tree.  Now the Dreadful Griffin was so low in his mind that he
+wanted to tell someone his troubles, so he told the Fat Frog.
+
+"Don't come near me," said the Fat Frog when he had finished, "for
+I hate heat.  If you look under the fifth tree from the end of the
+wood you'll find a thin packet.  Put it in sixteen gallons of water
+and pour it over the cats, only mind you shut your eyes first, and
+for goodness sake don't come into this wood any more, you dry up
+the moisture."
+
+The Griffin quite forgot to thank the Fat Frog, he was a Griffin of
+NO manners, but he didn't forget to take the packet.  It was
+labelled 'Reckitt's,' and when he put it in the water all the water
+turned bright blue.  Then he took the pail in his claw, flew to the
+castle, shut his eyes and poured some of the contents of the pail
+over the cats in the courtyard.
+
+When he opened his eyes there were twenty-seven bright blue, damp,
+depressed cats; and he passed them without any difficulty.  He shut
+his eyes, wriggled up the stairs, poured the remaining mixture over
+the seventeen cats, who all turned as blue as the rest, and then he
+burst open the door of the Princess's room.  Fortunately there was
+a kind Fairy flying over the castle at that very moment, who,
+seeing what was happening, changed the Princess into a flea so that
+the Dreadful Griffin couldn't see her anywhere.
+
+No, if I couldn't tell you before, I certainly must not attempt now
+to describe the Griffin's behaviour when he found the Princess thus
+snatched from his jaws.  He went grunting and bellowing and
+screaming along; and just as he was stopping to take breath he
+heard someone roaring with laughter, and saw a little yellow man
+sitting on the top bough of a tree.
+
+"Are you laughing at ME?" said the Dreadful Griffin (he was so
+angry that he was quite polite).  And the little man said quite as
+politely that he certainly WAS.
+
+"Why?" said the Dreadful Griffin, still fearfully polite.
+
+"Because you're such a green Griffin," said the yellow man; and he
+screamed with laughter again--"I know all about it, you've blued
+the cats and now the Princess has greened you.  She's turned into a
+flea, and you still want to eat her, and it never occurred to you,
+you green old grampus of a Griffin, that fleas like CATS.  I
+suppose the Princess flea wouldn't jump on to a tabby kitten, and
+you couldn't swallow the kitten--oh dear, no--of course not . . .
+."
+
+But the Griffin was gone.  He went to the Zoo, found a tabby
+kitten, though they are rare in that country, and flew back with it
+to the Princess's room.
+
+He waited half an hour and then swallowed the kitten at one gulp;
+but he instantly burst in four pieces, for the fluffy kitten
+tickled his digestive organs so much that they cracked his sides
+and he died; and the flea and the kitten came out quite unhurt,
+only a little damp.
+
+Then a wonderful thing happened.  The tabby kitten changed into the
+little yellow man who had laughed at the Griffin.  He grew, and
+grew, and in a few minutes he was a handsome prince.  His name was
+Prince Orange Plushikins.  One day a cruel witch whom he had
+offended had changed him into an ugly yellow man, and had sworn
+that he should only regain his shape if he was eaten by a Griffin
+when under the form of a tabby kitten; which you know was precisely
+what happened.  Well, Prince Orange Plushikins at once asked the
+Princess flea to marry him, and the minute the flea said "Yes," the
+Princess reappeared.  She and the Prince were married next morning;
+and all the cats went to the steam laundry and were washed and
+bleached and had their tails crimped and their whiskers starched;
+and they danced at the wedding, and everybody lived happily ever
+after.
+
+
+
+The Discontented Daffodils.
+
+
+
+They had the very loveliest home you can imagine, with beautiful
+soft moss and grass to grow in, trees to form a cosy shelter from
+the wind, and a dear little babbling stream to water them.
+
+There were lots of daffodils in this pretty place, and nobody ever
+discovered the nook to gather them.  They rejoiced in the spring
+sunshine and gentle breezes, the greeting of the birds, and the
+musical chatter of the brook; then when their brief visit to the
+upper world was over they nestled happily down in their warm mossy
+beds and slept till April came again to wake them.
+
+A little apart from the rest were four daffodils growing at the
+root of a gnarled oak tree, and one fine sunshiny morning three of
+them took it into their silly little heads that they were dull, the
+place was dull, the other daffodils were dull, and they wanted a
+change.
+
+It was mainly the fault of the cuckoo, for he was a grumbling,
+mischief-making bird and used to spend a good deal of time talking
+to the daffodils.  This particular spring he had taken up his abode
+in the oak tree, and was fond of talking of all the grand things he
+had seen, and a great many he had not seen, for the cuckoo is a
+bird of fine imagination; and at last, as I have already said,
+three of the daffodils made up their minds that to be a flower and
+live in a wood was a very dreadful thing, and not to be put up with
+any longer.
+
+Now the cuckoo had told many strange tales about creatures with two
+legs and beautiful coloured leaves which grew in an odd way, and
+feathers only on their heads.  They could not fly, but they could
+run about from place to place, and dance and sing; and at last the
+daffodils decided that they wished to be like these curious
+creatures, which the cuckoo called GIRLS.
+
+Then there were sad times in that sweet little nook under the oak
+tree.
+
+The naughty daffodils cried and quarrelled and bewailed their lot
+all day long, till they made themselves and everybody else
+extremely wretched.  Their little sister shook her head at them,
+and scolded and said that for her part she was not meant to have
+legs; but it was all no use, the daffodils would not be quiet.
+
+One day the Fairy Visitor who looked after the flowers in that part
+heard the silly blossoms crying, and stopped to ask what was the
+matter.  When she heard the story she told them they were very
+foolish and discontented, and that the cuckoo was a most
+mischievous bird and liked to get people into trouble; but the
+daffodils would not listen.  So knowing there is nothing so likely
+to cure silly flower as to give them their own silly way, she said-
+-"Very well, my dears, you want to be girls, and girls you shall
+be."
+
+With that she waved her wand over the three daffodils and in a
+twinkle they were gone; in their places stood three tall pretty
+maidens dressed in soft yellow silk frocks with green stockings and
+shoes.  For a minute they were too much astonished to speak, then
+clapping their hands they laughed and skipped for joy, and wanted
+to kiss the old fairy because they were so pleased at getting their
+own way; but the fairy would not look at them, and stooped over the
+little flower now growing all alone, saying kindly:-
+
+"Well, little one, don't you want to be a pretty maiden, too?"
+
+But the daffodil shook her head with great determination:-
+
+"I don't want legs and I won't have legs.  I was meant to be a
+flower and a flower I will be, but if you could keep that meddling,
+chattering cuckoo away from this tree for a time I should be much
+obliged."
+
+And the fairy laughed and promised.
+
+Meanwhile the three pretty maidens had set of hand in hand to seek
+their fortunes.
+
+They went singing and dancing over the meadows in the soft
+afternoon sunshine, and thought how wise and clever they were to be
+girls instead of little unnoticed flowers growing in a wood.
+
+Presently they came to a house and stopped to ask whether they
+could have a lodging for the night.  There was no difficulty about
+it, for that is a happy country where there is no money and
+everything belongs to everybody, so the people of the house--an old
+man and woman--were delighted to see the beautiful maidens and made
+them heartily welcome, and the daffodils went to bed that night
+very happy and quite content with the result of their experiment.
+When they came to undress, however, they received a severe shock.
+
+They were girls, real proper girls, they could chatter and eat and
+sleep, for the fairy was not one to do things by halves; but when
+they pulled off the dainty green shoes and stockings, they
+discovered that although they had the prettiest little legs and
+feet and toes in the world, they were quite green, the colour of
+daffodil leaves.
+
+There wasn't anything said about a "dear, darling, kind old fairy"
+then, I can assure you.
+
+The first daffodil said she was a wicked old witch.  The second
+said she was a horrible old woman; and the third said she knew the
+fairy meant to pay them out, and she would like to scratch her.
+Then they all set to work arguing and quarrelling and crying like
+silly babies, when suddenly a familiar "Cuck-oo!" sounded in their
+ears, and they saw our old acquaintance perched on the window sill.
+
+He looked at the six little green feet, and his eyes twinkled; but
+before he could speak the three angry maidens all began scolding
+him at once, for they were delighted to have somebody fresh to find
+fault with.
+
+The cuckoo, being in some respects a philosopher, did not attempt
+to interrupt, but when they were quite exhausted he said he really
+could not see any reason for their distress.  No one would ever
+wish to see their feet, and they could always wear stockings.  He
+added that he had great news, and had come on purpose to bring it.
+
+"The King of Silverland," he said, "is coming with all his court to
+hold high revel close to this place and celebrate the coming of age
+of his three sons.  These princes were all born at once; and the
+king has decided to divide his kingdom into three equal parts and
+leave his sons to rule while he retires to his country place to
+study science.  Now these Silver princes desire to marry three
+princesses, sisters born at once like themselves; but they are very
+hard to find, and the king is advertising everywhere for triplets.
+When I heard this I set off at once to tell you."
+
+The three maidens were so much interested and excited that they
+forgot their troubles and began to sing.
+
+The cuckoo was pleased with his success, but told them they must go
+to bed and to sleep, and he would fetch them in the morning to show
+them the way to the King of Silverland's court.
+
+Next morning, although he arrived quite early, the maidens were up
+and ready for him, looking very pretty in their yellow frocks.  The
+kind people of the house were quite sorry to part with their guests
+and begged them to come again, and the daffodil maidens set off in
+high spirits, following the cuckoo as he flew slowly ahead across
+the sunlit meadows.  About noon they came in sight of the king's
+court.  The gorgeous tents were of cloth of silver fastened with
+silver ropes; fountains were playing in the open spaces, and flags
+flying everywhere.  The daffodils attracted a great deal of
+attention as they made their way, blushing and a little frightened,
+through the crowds of soldiers, court ladies and attendants.  At
+the door of the largest and most gorgeous tent stood three
+beautiful princes dressed in silver.
+
+When they saw the maidens approaching, hand in hand, they gave a
+cry of joy and ran forward to greet them.
+
+"Dear beautiful princesses," they cried, "welcome to our court!
+May we ask your names and the country you come from?"
+
+The cuckoo, perched on a tent-pole hard by, answered for them.
+"These are the Princesses Daffodil, daughters of the great King of
+Goldenland.  They have come very many days' journey to be present
+at your revels."
+
+Think of the cuckoo telling such a dreadful story and those naughty
+daffodils not contradicting him!
+
+When the princes heard the cuckoo's words they were almost beside
+themselves with joy, for, as it happened, there was a real King of
+Goldenland (but the cuckoo did not know it), and he had three
+daughters of the same age whom the Silver princes were anxious to
+see.  They dropped on one knee, kissed the maidens' hands very
+prettily, and then led them, blushing and delighted, into the royal
+tent.
+
+The king was out, but the queen received the daffodils very
+graciously.
+
+"Triplet," she said significantly, and it was the princes' turn to
+blush.
+
+Then the young people visited all the beautiful tents, and the
+great ballroom where there was to be a ball that night, and the
+princes whispered to the maidens that they would dance with no one
+else.  When they had tasted the cowslip wine from the fountains and
+eaten lots of wonderful sweets the daffodils declared they were
+quite tired; so the princes put them into hammocks with little
+monkeys to swing them, and the happy hours wore on until the
+evening.
+
+The maidens had had a beautiful tent assigned to them by the queen,
+and they found lovely dresses of cloth of gold with shoes and
+stockings to match, all ready for them.  They looked so beautiful
+when they were dressed that the colour of their feet did not seem
+to matter at all.
+
+All that night they danced with the princes, and everyone was
+charmed with their beauty and grace, especially the king, who had
+not received a single answer to his advertisement.  At the great
+banquet which followed the ball the betrothal of the Silver princes
+to the Golden princesses was solemnly announced, and their health
+drunk amid great rejoicing.
+
+The dawn was red in the east before the festivities were over, and
+the daffodils went to bed happier than they had ever been before,
+happier than they ever would be again.  A new and awful trouble of
+which they had never dreamt was about to befall them.
+
+When the princes came to meet their betrothed next morning the
+maidens noticed that, although very affectionate, they were
+downcast and somewhat silent.  At last, after a great deal of
+questioning, the reason came out.  The king and queen had both had
+exactly the same curious dream, and this strange occurrence had
+upset their majesties very much.  They both dreamt that one of the
+princesses, as they believed them to be, had six toes on each foot;
+and as no monstrosity could ever share the throne of Silverland
+they demanded to see the princesses' little feet with their own
+eyes, so as to be quite sure they all had only the right number of
+toes.
+
+When the princes with many blushes broke this news to their lady-
+loves, they each gave a short loud scream and fainted.
+
+Their lovers, of course, put this down to extreme modesty, and were
+much affected by such proper conduct; but when they succeeded in
+restoring them to consciousness they were not a little disturbed to
+find that the maidens positively refused to show their feet.
+
+Imagine the grief of the poor princes!  The king had said quite
+positively that not one of the princes should marry till he, the
+queen, and the councillors of the kingdom, had seen the bride's
+feet; and the maidens now declared that they would never never show
+them.
+
+Matters were in this awkward state when the cuckoo appeared on the
+scene.  He had as usual contrived to find out what was going on,
+and now announced that he had a private message for the Golden
+princesses, if they would take him to their tent.
+
+When they were alone the daffodils began to cry their eyes out, and
+the cuckoo to try and comfort them.
+
+"Green feet," he said, "are very uncommon and would no doubt be
+welcomed as a great rarity."
+
+But the maidens sobbed on.
+
+"The princes love you so much they will think your little feet the
+most beautiful colour in the world."
+
+But they would not listen.
+
+"I heard the king and queen say that green was their favourite
+colour," he remarked next.
+
+This was pure invention on the cuckoo's part, but the daffodils
+were somewhat cheered, and after a great deal of talking the cuckoo
+persuaded them to give in and consent to show their feet, as they
+could not possibly marry the princes without.  Besides, perhaps
+when the king found their toes were all right he would think the
+colour rather ornamental than otherwise.  So the princes were told
+to their great joy that the princesses had consented to show their
+feet; and the king and queen, on being informed, summoned a Cabinet
+Council for the next morning so that their ministers might be
+present at the counting of the princesses' toes.
+
+Meantime the real Goldenland princesses had arrived near the camp;
+but as they and their suite were very tired they resolved not to
+visit the Silver king till the next day, and commanded that no one
+should mention their arrival.
+
+That night the daffodils never slept, for fear once more took
+possession of them.  They scrubbed their feet, but the fairy's dye
+would not come off; then they scraped them, but that hurt very much
+and did no good.  Finally they chalked them, but that was no use at
+all; so they had to give it up in despair, and hope for the best.
+
+Next morning two of the court ushers came to escort them to the
+Cabinet Council.  Poor daffodils!  Their eyes were red with
+weeping, and they could scarcely stand for terror when they entered
+the tent where the examination was to take place.
+
+In the middle on a raised dais sat the king and queen, on their
+right stood the three princes, on their left the councillors in
+their robes of state.  Three chairs were placed for the maidens,
+and they were politely but firmly requested to take off their shoes
+and stockings.
+
+Blushing crimson the daffodils slowly and unwillingly took off
+their shoes.  Then they cried a little and said they really truly
+couldn't, but it was no use, and the stockings had to follow, and
+six little green feet were exposed to view.
+
+"They wear two pairs, I see," said the queen, who was a little
+short-sighted.  "Very sensible, I'm sure, in this damp place.  Take
+off the other pair, my dears."
+
+But the daffodils only hung their heads and wept.
+
+Then one of the councillors cried out, in a horrified tone--"Their
+feet are green!  They are monstrosities!" and at that very moment
+heralds were heard outside announcing the arrival of the Princesses
+of Goldenland.
+
+Now the king was a shrewd old gentleman, and the true state of
+affairs suddenly flashed upon him.  "They are impostors!" he cried,
+rising to his feet, "turn the deceitful minxes out."
+
+At that the maidens rose and fled.  They never stopped for shoes or
+stockings, but ran like hunted hares out of the tent across the
+fields; and when the people saw their little green feet a great
+shout of laughter went up, in which the king and the princes
+joined.  As for the daffodils, they ran and ran and ran, not daring
+even to look behind them, till they suddenly stopped for want of
+breath; and where do you think they were?  Why in their old home
+under the oak tree.  Most of the daffodils had gone to sleep, but a
+few were left, and among them their little sister.  At her side
+stood the fairy.
+
+"Well, my dears, do you like being girls?" and there was a twinkle
+in her eye as she spoke.
+
+But the daffodils were sobbing too bitterly to answer, and the
+fairy had a kind heart and did not press the question.  "Would you
+be content to be daffodils again?" she asked, and smiled at them
+sweetly.
+
+They murmured a thankful "Yes"; the fairy waved her wand, and in a
+trice the maidens were gone and there were three more flowers, very
+pale faded ones, growing under the gnarled oak tree.  Poor
+discontented daffodils!  They had to pay a heavy price for their
+folly.
+
+The cuckoo came back time after time, and never wearied of teasing
+them; and their little sister made many very true but disagreeable
+remarks on the extreme silliness of being discontented with one's
+surroundings.
+
+Perhaps by next spring things may be better; but of this you may be
+quite sure, no amount of cuckoos will ever persuade the flowers in
+that nook to be anything but what nature intended them to be--sweet
+little daffodils.
+
+
+
+The Fairy Fluffikins
+
+
+
+The Fairy Fluffikins lived in a warm woolly nest in a hole down an
+old oak tree.  She was the sweetest, funniest little fairy you ever
+saw.  She wore a little, soft, fluffy brown dress, and on her head
+a little red woolly cap; she had soft red hair and the brightest,
+naughtiest, merriest, sharpest brown eyes imaginable.
+
+What a life she led the animals!  Fairy Fluffikins was a sad tease;
+she would creep into the nests where the fat baby dormice were
+asleep in bed while Mamma dormouse nodded over her knitting and
+Papa smoked his little acorn pipe; and she would tickle the babies
+till they screamed with laughter and nearly rolled out of bed, and
+Mamma scolded, and Papa said in a gruff voice--"What a plague you
+are, you little dors; go to sleep this minute or I will fetch my
+big stick."
+
+And then the babies would shake, for they were afraid of the big
+stick; and naughty Fairy Fluffikins would dance off to find some
+fresh piece of mischief.
+
+One night she had fine fun.  She found a little dead mouse in a
+field; and at first she was sorry for the mouse, and thought she
+would bury it and plant a daisy on its grave; but then an idea
+struck her.  She hunted about till she found a piece of long,
+strong grass, and then she took the little mouse, tied the piece of
+grass round its tail, and ran away with it to the big tree where
+the Ancient Owl lived.  There was a little hole at the bottom of
+the tree and into it Fairy Fluffikins crept, leaving the mouse
+outside in the moonlight.  Presently she heard a gruff voice in the
+tree saying -
+
+"I smell mouse, I smell mouse."  Then there was a swoop of wings,
+and Fairy Fluffikins promptly drew the mouse into the little hole
+and stuffed its tail into her mouth so that she might not be heard
+laughing; and the gruff voice said angrily -
+
+"Where's that mouse gone?  I smelt mouse, I know I smelt mouse!"
+
+She grew tired of this game after a few times, so she left the
+mouse in the hole and crept away to a new one.  She really was a
+naughty fairy.  She blew on the buttercups so that they thought the
+morning breeze had come to wake them up, and opened their cups in a
+great hurry.  She buzzed outside the clover and made it talk in its
+sleep, so that it said in a cross, sleepy voice--"Go away, you
+stupid busy bee, and don't wake me up in the middle of the night."
+
+She pulled the tail of the nightingale who was singing to his lady-
+love in the hawthorn bush, and he lost his place in his song and
+nearly tumbled over backwards into the garden.  Then to her joy she
+met an elderly, domestic puss taking an evening walk with a view to
+field-mice.
+
+Here was sport.  Fluffikins hid in the grass and squeaked; and when
+the elderly cat came tearing up she pulled his whiskers and flew
+away (I forgot to tell you that she had little, soft wings), and
+the elderly cat jumped and said -
+
+"Mouse-traps and mince-meat!  Fancy a cat of my age and experience
+taking a bat for a mouse!  But by my claws I heard a mouse's
+squeak."
+
+Fairy Fluffikins often met the poor elderly cat, and always led him
+some dreadful dance, now and then taking a ride on his back into
+the bargain, till he thought he must have got the nightmare.
+
+One day Fairy Fluffikins was well paid out for some of her
+naughtiness.  She was flying away from a tree where she had just
+wrapped a sleeping bat's head up in a large cobweb, when she heard
+the sweep of wings, felt a sharp nip--and in less time than it
+takes to tell found herself in the nest of the Ancient Owl.
+
+"My wig!" said the Ancient Owl, much surprised, "I thought you were
+a bat."  And he called his wife and three children to look.
+
+Now when Fairy Fluffikins saw five pairs of large round eyes
+blinking and staring at her she lost her head and cried out--
+"Please, please, Mr Ancient Owl, don't be angry with me and I will
+never play tricks with mice any more," and so told the Ancient Owl
+what he had never even suspected before.
+
+Then the Ancient Owl was MOST DREADFULLY ANGRY and read Fairy
+Fluffikins a long sermon about the wickedness of deceiving Ancient
+Owls.  The sermon took two hours and a half; and when it was over
+all the owls hooted at her and pecked her; and Fairy Fluffikins was
+very glad indeed when at last Mrs Ancient Owl gave her a push and
+said -
+
+"Go along, you impertinent brown minx," and she was able to go out
+into the night.
+
+Even this sad adventure did not cure Fairy Fluffikins of getting
+into mischief--although she never teased the owls any more, you may
+be sure of that--she took to tormenting the squirrels instead.  She
+used to find their stores of nuts and carry them away and fill the
+holes with pebbles; and this, when you are a hard-working squirrel
+with a large family to support, is very trying to the temper.  Then
+she would tie acorns to their tails; and she would clap her hands
+to frighten them, and pull the baby-squirrels' ears; till at last
+they offered a reward to anyone who could catch Fairy Fluffikins
+and bring her to be punished.
+
+No one caught Fairy Fluffikins; but she caught herself, as you
+shall hear.
+
+She was poking about round a haystack one night, trying to find
+something naughty to do, when she came upon a sweet little house
+with pretty wire walls and a wooden door standing invitingly open.
+In hopped Fluffikins, thinking she was going to have some new kind
+of fun.  There was a little white thing dangling from the roof, and
+she laid hold of it.  Immediately there was a bang; the wooden door
+slammed; and Fluffikins was caught.
+
+How she cried and stamped and pushed at the door, and promised to
+be a good fairy and a great many other things!  But all to no
+purpose:  the door was tight shut, and Fluffikins was not like some
+fortunate fairies who can get out of anywhere.
+
+There she remained, and in the morning one of the labourers found
+her, and, thinking she was some kind of dormouse, he carried her
+home to his little girl; and if you call on Mary Ann Smith you will
+see Fairy Fluffikins there still in a little cage.  They give her
+nuts and cheese and bread, and all the things she doesn't like, and
+there is no one to tease and no mischief to get into; so if there
+is a miserable little Fairy anywhere it is Fairy Fluffikins, and
+I'm not sure it doesn't serve her quite right.
+
+
+
+The Story of the Tinkle-Tinkle.
+
+
+
+Once upon a time there lived a Tinkle-Tinkle.  I cannot tell you
+what he was like, because no man knows, not even the Tinkle-Tinkle
+himself.  Sometimes he lived on the ground, sometimes in a tree,
+sometimes in the water, sometimes in a cave; and I can't tell you
+what he lived on, for no man knows, not even the Tinkle-Tinkle
+himself.
+
+One day the Tinkle-Tinkle was going through a wood, when he heard a
+piteous weeping.  He stopped, for he was a kindly Tinkle-Tinkle,
+and found two small dormice sobbing under a tree because they had
+been cruelly deserted by their parents.  He wiped their eyes
+tenderly and took them to his cave home; but I cannot tell you how
+he went, for no man knows, not even the Tinkle-Tinkle.  However,
+when he got there he put the dormice to bed in his grandmother's
+boots, for which he had never found any use before, and fed them on
+periwinkles and tea, and was very kind to them; and when they grew
+older he bought them caps and aprons, and they became the Tinkle-
+Tinkle's housemaid and parlourmaid.
+
+Now I must tell you that it was a great grief to the Tinkle-Tinkle
+not to know what he was, or how he lived, or where he was going to;
+and it often made him depressed, but he always concealed it from
+the dormice, appearing a most cheerful and contented creature.
+
+One day he found a poor green bird lying on the ground with its leg
+broken.  Fortunately Tinkle-Tinkle had his grandmother's black silk
+reticule with him which had never been of any service to him
+before.  He gently placed the green bird in the bottom and carried
+it to the cave.
+
+The dormice laid the poor sufferer on a soft bed and put the broken
+leg up carefully in plaster of Paris; and they nursed the green
+bird with the greatest attention so that it was soon well enough to
+hop about on crutches; and it sang so beautifully that all the
+inhabitants round gave it money, and its fame spread abroad; but it
+was so tenderly attached to the Tinkle-Tinkle and the dormice that
+it would not leave them.
+
+Now it happened on a certain evening that the Tinkle-Tinkle was
+travelling over the sea, when suddenly in the depths he caught
+sight of a most beautiful Creature.  It was all sorts of colours--
+white, rosy pink, and deep crimson, and pale blue fading into white
+and gold.  It had no face but a bright light; and it had quantities
+of beautiful iridescent wings, like the rainbow; and the most
+lovely voice you ever heard, like the sighing of the waves in the
+hollow of the sea.
+
+The Tinkle-Tinkle was so astonished and entranced that he stopped,
+and the beautiful Creature cried out to him, and its voice made
+Tinkle-Tinkle remember a dream he had once had of sunshine, and
+forest trees, and the song of birds; and the Creature said, "Ah,
+Tinkle-Tinkle! you are lonely and perplexed and sad, and you do not
+know whence you came nor why you are here; but the dormice know and
+the green bird knows, and I know, and we are glad for your being.
+Go on, Tinkle-Tinkle, and do not sorrow, for some day you shall
+come back to me, and I will wrap you in my wings and take you where
+you belong, and then you will understand."
+
+When the Tinkle-Tinkle heard this he was glad with a new strange
+gladness, and he went back to his cave; but not alone, for the
+spirit of hope went with him.
+
+The Tinkle-Tinkle had one gift--he could sing--how, no man knew,
+not even the Tinkle-Tinkle himself; and this is how he discovered
+his gift.
+
+One day in a secluded spot in the forest he found a dying stag, and
+the Tinkle-Tinkle was moved with great compassion and yet could do
+nothing.
+
+The great stag's head drooped lower and lower till even the sun
+melted in a mist of pity, and the trees sighed, and the breezes
+hushed their voices.  Then suddenly the Tinkle-Tinkle crept close
+and began to sing, why or how he knew not.  As he sang, the birds
+and the stream were silenced and the breezes ceased, and the great
+stag's breathing grew less and less laboured, and his eyes
+brightened, and presently he rose slowly to his feet and paced away
+to join the rest of the herd, and the Tinkle-Tinkle went with him.
+
+When the stag's companions heard the story, they wept for all that
+had befallen their leader, but rejoiced also and blessed the
+Tinkle-Tinkle; and he sang once more for them, and the Star-spirits
+leaned out of their bright little windows to listen, and the night
+was glad.
+
+Many were the adventures of the Tinkle-Tinkle, and countless the
+creatures he cheered and helped, yet he never fancied himself any
+use or knew why he was in the world.  He brought home a poor old
+crab without a claw, and the green bird and the dormice found a
+hook and screwed it in, and the poor old crab used to carry parcels
+for the neighbours; but he still lived with the Tinkle-Tinkle.
+
+Another time it was a snail with a broken shell; for him they built
+a beautiful little house, and he made little rush brooms and sold
+them to the passers-by; but he lived ever after close to the
+Tinkle-Tinkle's front door.
+
+So it went on till all the Tinkle-Tinkle's homes were full of
+strange occupants, and he began to feel very old and worn and
+weary.  Then he remembered the promise of the beautiful Creature,
+and went slowly over the sea hoping the time had come for it to be
+fulfilled, and it had.  The beautiful Creature stretched out its
+lovely rose and purple wings and wrapped the Tinkle-Tinkle in their
+warm soft greatness, and bore him down and down through the depths
+till they came to the Great Gate.  At the beautiful Creature's
+voice it swung slowly back, and they passed down the Blue Pathway,
+which is all ice, cut and carved into lovely pinnacles and spires,
+very blue with the blue of the summer sky and the southern seas.
+The Tinkle-Tinkle could just see it from between the beautiful
+Creature's wings, stretching away in the blue distance, and at the
+end one star.
+
+Presently--and though the time had been one thousand years it had
+not seemed long to the Tinkle-Tinkle--they came out into a
+beautiful place that was nothing but light, and the beautiful
+Creature set the Tinkle-Tinkle down; he looked around him and saw
+many other Tinkle-Tinkles, and he knew them for what they were and
+loved their beauty; and the Creature gently swept one of its purple
+pinions across him, and the Tinkle-Tinkle took form.  He had many,
+many little soft, strong hands and many little white feet, and long
+sweeping wings and a face which shone with something of the light
+of the beautiful Creature; and the Tinkle-Tinkle saw and understood
+and sang for joy.
+
+
+
+
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+<title>The Grey Brethren and Other Fragments in Prose and Verse</title>
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+<h2>
+<a href="#startoftext">The Grey Brethren and Other Fragments in Prose and Verse, by Michael Fairless</a>
+</h2>
+<pre>
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Grey Brethren, by Michael Fairless
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+Title: The Grey Brethren and Other Fragments in Prose and Verse
+
+Author: Michael Fairless
+
+Release Date: March, 1997  [EBook #835]
+[This file was first posted on March 2, 1997]
+[Most recently updated: September 25, 2002]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+</pre>
+<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p>
+<p>Transcribed from the 1911 Duckworth and Co. edition by David Price,
+email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<h1>THE GREY BRETHREN AND OTHER FRAGMENTS IN PROSE AND VERSE</h1>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Contents</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>The Grey Brethren<br />A Song of Low Degree<br />A German Christmas
+Eve<br />A Christmas Idyll<br />The Manifestation<br />All Souls&rsquo;
+Day in a German Town<br />By Rivers and Streams<br />Spring<br />A Lark&rsquo;s
+Song<br />&lsquo;Luvly Miss&rsquo;<br />Four Stories Told To Children:<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The
+Dreadful Griffin<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The Discontented Daffodils<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The
+Fairy Fluffikins<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The Story of the Tinkle-Tinkle</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>The Grey Brethren</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Some of the happiest remembrances of my childhood are of days spent
+in a little Quaker colony on a high hill.</p>
+<p>The walk was in itself a preparation, for the hill was long and steep
+and at the mercy of the north-east wind; but at the top, sheltered by
+a copse and a few tall trees, stood a small house, reached by a flagged
+pathway skirting one side of a bright trim garden.</p>
+<p>I, with my seven summers of lonely, delicate childhood, felt, when
+I gently closed the gate behind me, that I shut myself into Peace.&nbsp;
+The house was always somewhat dark, and there were no domestic sounds.&nbsp;
+The two old ladies, sisters, both born in the last century, sat in the
+cool, dim parlour, netting or sewing.&nbsp; Rebecca was small, with
+a nut-cracker nose and chin; Mary, tall and dignified, needed no velvet
+under the net cap.&nbsp; I can feel now the touch of the cool dove-coloured
+silk against my cheek, as I sat on the floor, watching the nimble fingers
+with the shuttle, and listened as Mary read aloud a letter received
+that morning, describing a meeting of the faithful and the &lsquo;moving
+of the Spirit&rsquo; among them.&nbsp; I had a mental picture of the
+&lsquo;Holy Heavenly Dove,&rsquo; with its wings of silvery grey, hovering
+over my dear old ladies; and I doubt not my vision was a true one.</p>
+<p>Once as I watched Benjamin, the old gardener - a most &lsquo;stiff-backed
+Friend&rsquo; despite his stoop and his seventy years - putting scarlet
+geraniums and yellow fever-few in the centre bed, I asked, awe-struck,
+whether such glowing colours were approved; and Rebecca smiled and said
+- &ldquo;Child, dost thee not think the Lord may have His glories?&rdquo;
+and I looked from the living robe of scarlet and gold to the dove-coloured
+gown, and said: &ldquo;Would it be pride in thee to wear His glories?&rdquo;
+and Mary answered for her - &ldquo;The change is not yet; better beseems
+us the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit.</p>
+<p>The &lsquo;change from glory to glory&rsquo; has come to them both
+long since, but it seems to me as if their robes must still be Quaker-grey.</p>
+<p>Upstairs was the invalid daughter and niece.&nbsp; For years she
+had been compelled to lie on her face; and in that position she had
+done wonderful drawings of the High Priest, the Ark of the Covenant,
+and other Levitical figures.&nbsp; She had a cageful of tame canary-birds
+which answered to their names and fed from her plate at meal-times.&nbsp;
+Of these I remember only Roger, a gorgeous fellow with a beautiful voice
+and strong will of his own, who would occasionally defy his mistress
+from the secure fastness of a high picture-frame, but always surrendered
+at last, and came to listen to his lecture with drooping wings.</p>
+<p>A city of Peace, this little house, for the same severely-gentle
+decorum reigned in the kitchen as elsewhere: and now, where is such
+a haunt to be found?</p>
+<p>In the earlier part of this century the Friends bore a most important
+witness.&nbsp; They were a standing rebuke to rough manners, rude speech,
+and to the too often mere outward show of religion.&nbsp; No one could
+fail to be impressed by the atmosphere of peace suggested by their bearing
+and presence; and the gentle, sheltered, contemplative lives lived by
+most of them undoubtedly made them unusually responsive to spiritual
+influence.&nbsp; Now, the young birds have left the parent nest and
+the sober plumage and soft speech; they are as other men; and in a few
+short years the word Quaker will sound as strange in our ears as the
+older appellation Shaker does now.</p>
+<p>This year I read for the first time the Journal of George Fox.&nbsp;
+It is hard to link the rude, turbulent son of Amos with the denizens
+in my city of Peace; but he had his work to do and did it, letting breezy
+truths into the stuffy &lsquo;steeple-houses&rsquo; of the &lsquo;lumps
+of clay.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come out from among them and be ye separate; touch not the
+accursed thing!&rdquo; he thundered; and out they came, obedient to
+his stentorian mandate; but alack, how many treasures in earthen vessels
+did they overlook in their terror of the curse!&nbsp; The good people
+made such haste to flee the city, that they imagined themselves as having
+already, in the spirit, reached the land that is very far off; and so
+they cast from them the outward and visible signs which are vehicles,
+in this material world, of inward graces.&nbsp; Measureless are the
+uncovenanted blessings of God; and to these the Friends have ever borne
+a witness of power; but now the Calvinist intruder no longer divides
+the sheep from the goats in our churches; now the doctrine of universal
+brotherhood and the respect due to all men are taught much more effectively
+than when George Fox refused to doff his hat to the Justice; the quaint
+old speech has lost its significance, the dress would imply all the
+vainglory that the wearer desires to avoid; the young Quakers of this
+generation are no longer &lsquo;disciplined&rsquo; in matters of the
+common social life; yet still they remain separate.</p>
+<p>We of the outward and visible covenant need them, with their inherited
+mysticism, ordered contemplation, and spiritual vision; we need them
+for ourselves.&nbsp; The mother they have left yearns for them, and
+with all her faults - faults the greater for their absence - and with
+the blinded eyes of their recognition, she is their mother still.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;<i>What advantage</i> <i>then hath the Jew</i>?&rdquo; asked
+St Paul, and answered in the same breath - &ldquo;<i>Much every way,
+chiefly because that unto them were committed the oracles of God</i>.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+What advantage then has the Churchman? is the oft repeated question
+today; and the answer is still the answer of St Paul.</p>
+<p>The Incarnation is the sum of all the Sacraments, the crown of the
+material revelation of God to man, the greatest of outward and visible
+signs, &ldquo;<i>that which we have heard, which we have seen with our
+eyes, which we have looked upon and our hands have handled of the word
+of life</i>.&rdquo;&nbsp; A strange beginning truly, to usher in a purely
+spiritual dispensation; but beautifully fulfilled in the taking up of
+the earthly into the heavenly - Bread and Wine, the natural fruits of
+the earth, sanctified by man&rsquo;s toil, a sufficiency for his needs;
+and instinct with Divine life through the operation of the Holy Ghost.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;In the sweat of thy face thou shalt eat bread.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood
+ye have no life in you&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>From Genesis to the Revelation of the Divine reaches the rainbow
+of the Sacramental system - outward and visible signs of inward and
+spiritual grace:-</p>
+<p>The sacrament of purging, purifying labour, to balance and control
+the knowledge of good and evil:-</p>
+<p>The sacrament of life, divine life, with the outward body of humiliation,
+bread and wine, fruit of the accursed ground, but useless without man&rsquo;s
+labour; and St Paul, caught up into the third heaven, and St John, with
+his wide-eyed vision of the Lamb, must eat this bread and drink this
+cup if they would live:-</p>
+<p>The sacrament of healing, the restoring of the Image of God in fallen
+man.</p>
+<p>The Church is one society, nay, the world is one society, for man
+without his fellow-men is not; and into the society, both of the Church
+and the world, are inextricably woven the most social sacraments.</p>
+<p>Herein is great purpose, we say, bending the knee; and with deep
+consciousness of sins and shortcomings we stretch out longing welcoming
+hands to our grey brethren with their inheritance of faithfulness and
+steadfastness under persecution, and their many gifts and graces; and
+we cry, in the words of the Song of Songs which is Solomon&rsquo;s:
+&ldquo;O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret
+places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice;
+for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.&nbsp; For lo, the
+winter is past, the rain is over and gone.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>A Song of Low Degree</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Lord, I am small, and yet so great,<br />The whole world stands to
+my estate,<br />And in Thine Image I create.<br />The sea is mine; and
+the broad sky<br />Is mine in its immensity:<br />The river and the
+river&rsquo;s gold;<br />The earth&rsquo;s hid treasures manifold;<br />The
+love of creatures small and great,<br />Save where I reap a precious
+hate;<br />The noon-tide sun with hot caress,<br />The night with quiet
+loneliness;<br />The wind that bends the pliant trees,<br />The whisper
+of the summer breeze;<br />The kiss of snow and rain; the star<br />That
+shines a greeting from afar;<br />All, all are mine; and yet so small<br />Am
+I, that lo, I needs must call,<br />Great King, upon the Babe in Thee,<br />And
+crave that Thou would&rsquo;st give to me<br />The grace of Thy humility.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>A German Christmas Eve</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>It was intensely cold; Father Rhine was frozen over, so he may speak
+for it; and for days we had lived to the merry jangle and clang of innumerable
+sleigh bells, in a white and frost-bound world.&nbsp; As I passed through
+the streets, crowded with stolidly admiring peasants from the villages
+round, I caught the dear remembered &lsquo;Gr&uuml;ss Gott!&rsquo; and
+&lsquo;All&rsquo; Heil!&rsquo; of the countryside, which town life quickly
+stamps out along with many other gentle observances.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Gelobt sei Jesu Christ!&rdquo; cried little Sister Hilarius,
+coming on me suddenly at a corner, her round face aglow with the sharp
+air, her arms filled with queer-shaped bundles.&nbsp; She begs for her
+sick poor as she goes along - meat here, some bread there, a bottle
+of good red wine: I fancy few refuse her.&nbsp; She nursed me once,
+the good little sister, with unceasing care and devotion, and all the
+dignity of a scant five feet.&nbsp; &ldquo;Ach, Du lieber Gott, such
+gifts!&rdquo; she added, with a radiant smile, and vanished up a dirty
+stairway.</p>
+<p>In the Quergasse a jay fell dead at my feet - one of the many birds
+which perished thus - he had flown townwards too late.&nbsp; Up at the
+Jagdschloss the wild creatures, crying a common truce of hunger, trooped
+each day to the clearing by the J&auml;ger&rsquo;s cottage for the food
+spread for them.&nbsp; The great tusked boar of the Taunus with his
+brother of Westphalia, the timid roe deer with her scarcely braver mate,
+foxes, hares, rabbits, feathered game, and tiny songbirds of the woods,
+gathered fearlessly together and fed at the hand of their common enemy
+- a millennial banquet truly.</p>
+<p>The market-place was crowded, and there were Christmas trees everywhere,
+crying aloud in bushy nakedness for their rightful fruit.&nbsp; The
+old peasant women, rolled in shawls, with large handkerchiefs tied over
+their caps, warmed their numb and withered hands over little braziers
+while they guarded the gaily decked treasure-laden booths, from whose
+pent-roofs Father Winter had hung a fringe of glittering icicles.</p>
+<p>Many of the stalls were entirely given over to Christmas-tree splendours.&nbsp;
+Long trails of gold and silver <i>Engelshaar</i>, piles of candles -
+red, yellow, blue, green, violet, and white - a rainbow of the Christian
+virtues and the Church&rsquo;s Year; boxes of frost and snow, festoons
+of coloured beads, fishes with gleaming scales, glass-winged birds,
+Santa Klaus in frost-bedecked mantle and scarlet cap, angels with trumpets
+set to their waxen lips; and everywhere and above all the image of the
+Holy Child.&nbsp; Sometimes it was the tiny waxen Bambino, in its pathetic
+helplessness; sometimes the Babe Miraculous, standing with outstretched
+arms awaiting the world&rsquo;s embrace - Mary&rsquo;s Son, held up
+in loving hands to bless; or the Heavenly Child-King with crown and
+lily sceptre, borne high by Joseph, that gentle, faithful servitor.&nbsp;
+It was the festival of Bethlehem, feast of never-ending keeping, which
+has its crowning splendour on Christmas Day.</p>
+<p>A Sister passed with a fat, rosy little girl in either hand; they
+were chattering merrily of the gift they were to buy for the dear Christkind,
+the gift which Sister said He would send some ragged child to receive
+for Him.&nbsp; They came back to the poor booth close to where I was
+standing.&nbsp; It was piled with warm garments; and after much consultation
+a little white vest was chosen - the elder child rejected pink, she
+knew the Christkind would like white best - then they trotted off down
+a narrow turning to the church, and I followed.</p>
+<p>The Cr&ecirc;che stood without the chancel, between the High Altar
+and that of Our Lady of Sorrows.&nbsp; It was very simple.&nbsp; A blue
+paper background spangled with stars; a roughly thatched roof supported
+on four rude posts; at the back, ox and ass lying among the straw with
+which the ground was strewn.&nbsp; The figures were life-size, of carved
+and painted wood: Joseph, tall and dignified, stood as guardian, leaning
+on his staff; Mary knelt with hands slightly uplifted in loving adoration;
+and the Babe lay in front on a truss of straw disposed as a halo.&nbsp;
+It was the World&rsquo;s Child, and the position emphasised it.&nbsp;
+Two or three hard-featured peasants knelt telling their beads; and a
+group of children with round, blue eyes and stiff, flaxen pigtails,
+had gathered in front, and were pointing and softly whispering.&nbsp;
+My little friends trotted up, crossed themselves; it was evidently the
+little one&rsquo;s first visit.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Guck! guck mal an,&rdquo; she cried, clapping her fat gloved
+hands, &ldquo;sieh mal an das Wickelkind!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dass ist unser Jesu,&rdquo; said the elder, and the little
+one echoed &ldquo;Unser Jesu, unser Jesu!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then the vest was brought out and shown - why not, it was the Christchild&rsquo;s
+own? - and the pair trotted away again followed by the bright, patient
+Sister.&nbsp; Presently everyone clattered out, and I was left alone
+at the crib of Bethlehem, the gate of the Kingdom of Heaven.</p>
+<p>It was my family, my only family; but like the ever-widening circle
+on the surface of a lake into which a stone has been flung, here, from
+this great centre, spread the wonderful ever-widening relationship -
+the real brotherhood of the world.&nbsp; It is at the Crib that everything
+has its beginning, not at the Cross; and it is only as little children
+that we can enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.</p>
+<p>When I went out again into the streets it was nearly dark.&nbsp;
+Anxious mothers hurried past on late, mysterious errands; papas who
+were not wanted until the last moment chatted gaily to each other at
+street corners, and exchanged recollections; maidservants hastened from
+shop to shop with large baskets already heavily laden; and the children
+were everywhere, important with secrets, comfortably secure in the knowledge
+of a tree behind the parlour doors, and a kindly, generous Saint who
+knew all their wants, and needed no rod <i>this</i> year.</p>
+<p>One little lad, with a pinched white face, and with only an empty
+certainty to look forward to, was singing shrilly in the sharp, still
+air, &ldquo;Zu Bethlehem geboren, ist uns ein Kindelein,&rdquo; as he
+gazed wistfully at a shop window piled high with crisp gingerbread,
+marzipan, chocolate under every guise, and tempting cakes.&nbsp; A great
+rough peasant coming out, saw him, turned back, and a moment later thrust
+a gingerbread Santa Klaus, with currant eyes and sugar trimming to his
+coat and cap, into the half-fearful little hands.&nbsp; &ldquo;Hab&rsquo;
+ebenso ein Kerlchen zu Haus&rsquo;,&rdquo; he said to me apologetically
+as he passed.</p>
+<p>I waited to see Santa Klaus disappear; but no, the child looked at
+the cake, sighed deeply with the cruel effort of resistance, and refrained.&nbsp;
+It was all his Christmas and he would keep it.&nbsp; He gazed and gazed,
+then a smile rippled across the wan little face and he broke out in
+another carol, &ldquo;Es kam ein Engel hell und klar vom Himmel zu der
+Hirten Schaar,&rdquo; and hugging his Santa Klaus carefully, wandered
+away down the now brilliant streets: he did not know he was hungry any
+more; the angel had come with good tidings.</p>
+<p>As I passed along the streets I could see through the uncurtained
+windows that in some houses Christmas had begun already for the little
+ones.&nbsp; Then the bells rang out deep-mouthed, carrying the call
+of the eager Church to her children, far up the valley and across the
+frozen river.&nbsp; And they answered; the great church was packed from
+end to end, and from my place by the door I saw that two tiny Christmas
+trees bright with coloured candles burnt either side of the Holy Child.</p>
+<p>A blue-black sky ablaze with stars for His glory, a fresh white robe
+for stained and tired earth; so we went to Bethlehem in the rare stillness
+of the early morning.&nbsp; The Church, having no stars, had lighted
+candles; and we poor sinful men having no white robes of our own had
+craved them of the Great King at her hands.</p>
+<p>And so in the stillness, with tapers within and stars alight without,
+with a white-clad earth, and souls forgiven, the Christ Child came to
+those who looked for His appearing.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>A Christmas Idyll</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>The Child with the wondering eyes sat on the doorstep, on either
+side of her a tramp cat in process of becoming a recognised member of
+society.&nbsp; On the flagged path in front the brown brethren were
+picking up crumbs.&nbsp; The cats&rsquo; whiskers trembled, but they
+sat still, proudly virtuous, and conscious each of a large saucer of
+warm milk within.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What,&rdquo; said the Child, &ldquo;is a symbol?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The cats looked grave.</p>
+<p>The Child rose, went into the house, and returned with a well-thumbed
+brown book.&nbsp; She turned the pages thoughtfully, and read aloud,
+presumably for the benefit of the cats: &ldquo;In a symbol there is
+concealment yet revelation, the infinite is made to blend with the finite,
+to stand visible, and as it were attainable there.&rdquo;&nbsp; The
+Child sighed, &ldquo;We had better go to the Recluse,&rdquo; she said.&nbsp;
+So the three went.</p>
+<p>It was a cold, clear, bright day, a typical Christmas Eve.&nbsp;
+There was a carpet of crisp snow on the ground, and a fringe of icicles
+hung from every vantage-point.&nbsp; The cats, not having been accustomed
+to the delights of domesticity, trotted along cheerfully despite the
+chill to their toes; and they soon came to the forest which all three
+knew very well indeed.&nbsp; It was a beautiful forest like a great
+cathedral, with long aisles cut between the splendid upstanding pine
+trees.&nbsp; The green-fringed boughs were heavy with snow, the straight
+strong stems caught and reflected the stray sun rays, and looking up
+through the arches and delicate tracery and interlaced branches the
+eye caught the wonderful blue of the great domed roof overhead.&nbsp;
+The cats walked delicately, fearful of temptation in the way of rabbits
+or frost-tamed birds, and the Child lilted a quaint German hymn to a
+strange old tune:-</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Ein Kind gebor&rsquo;n zu Bethlehem.<br />Alleluja!<br />Dess
+freuet sich Jerusalem,<br />Alleluja!&nbsp; Alleluja!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>The Recluse was sitting on a bench outside his cave.&nbsp; He was
+dressed in a brown robe, his eyes were like stars wrapped in brown velvet,
+his face was strong and gentle, his hair white although he looked quite
+young.&nbsp; He greeted the Child very kindly and stroked the cats.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have come to ask me a question, Child?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you please,&rdquo; said the Child, &ldquo;what is a symbol?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said the Recluse, &ldquo;I might have known you
+would ask me that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Sage says,&rdquo; went on the Child, &ldquo;that it is
+concealment yet revelation.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Recluse nodded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Just as a mystery that we cannot understand is the greatest
+possible wisdom.&nbsp; Go in and sit by my fire, Child; there are chestnuts
+on the hearth, and you will find milk in the brown jug.&nbsp; I will
+show you a symbol presently.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Child and the two cats went into the cave and sat down by the
+fire.&nbsp; It was warm and restful after the biting air.&nbsp; The
+cats purred pleasantly, the Child sat with her chin in her hand watching
+the glowing wood burn red and white on the great hearthstone.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Recluse generally answers my questions by showing me something
+I have seen for a long time but never beheld, or heard and never lent
+ear.&nbsp; I wonder what it will be this time,&rdquo; she said to herself.</p>
+<p>The grateful warmth made the Child sleepy, and she gave a start when
+she found the Recluse standing by her with outstretched hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, dear Child,&rdquo; he said; and leaving the sleeping
+cats she followed him, her hand in his.</p>
+<p>The air was full of wonderful sound, voices and song, and the cry
+of the bells.</p>
+<p>The Child wondered, and then remembered it was Christmas night.&nbsp;
+The Recluse led her down a little passage and opened a door.&nbsp; They
+stepped out together, but not into the forest.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is the front door of my house,&rdquo; said the Recluse,
+with a little smile.</p>
+<p>They stood on a white road, on one side a stretch of limestone down,
+on the other steep terraces with gardens and vineyard.&nbsp; The air
+was soft and warm, and sweet with the breath of lilies.&nbsp; The heaven
+was ablaze with stars; across the plain to the east the dawn was breaking.&nbsp;
+A group of strangely-clad men went down the road followed by a flock
+of sheep.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let us go with them,&rdquo; said the Recluse; and hand in
+hand they went.</p>
+<p>The road curved to the right; round the bend, cut in the living rock,
+was a cave; the shepherds stopped and knelt, and there was no sound
+but the soft rapid breathing of the flock.&nbsp; Then the Child was
+filled with an overmastering longing, a desire so great that the tears
+sprang hot to her eyes.&nbsp; She dropped the Recluse&rsquo;s hand and
+went forward where the shepherds knelt.&nbsp; Once again the air was
+full of wonderful sound, voices and song, and the cry of the bells;
+but within all was silence.&nbsp; The cave was rough-hewn, and stabled
+an ox and an ass; close to the front a tall strong man leaning on a
+staff kept watch and ward; within knelt a peasant Maid, and on a heap
+of yellow straw lay a tiny new-born Babe loosely wrapped in a linen
+cloth: around and above were wonderful figures of fire and mist.</p>
+<p>The infinite, visible and attainable.</p>
+<p>The mystery which is the greatest possible wisdom.</p>
+<p>* * * * *</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, Child,&rdquo; said the Recluse.</p>
+<p>The fire had burnt low; it was quite dark, save for the glow of the
+live embers.</p>
+<p>He threw on a great dry pine log; it flared like a torch.&nbsp; The
+cats&rsquo; stretched in the sudden blaze, and then settled to sleep
+again.&nbsp; The Child and the Recluse passed out into the forest.&nbsp;
+The moon was very bright and the snow reflected its rays, so that it
+was light in spite of the great trees.&nbsp; The air was full of wonderful
+sound, voices and song, and the cry of the bells; and the Child sang
+as she went in a half-dream by the side of the Recluse:-</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;In dieser heil&rsquo;gen Weihnachtszeit,<br />Alleluja!<br />Sei,
+Gott der Herr, gebenedeit,<br />Alleluja! Alleluja!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>and wondered when she would wake up.&nbsp; They came to the old,
+old church in the forest, and the pictured saints looked out at them
+from the lighted window; through the open door they could see figures
+moving about with tapers in their hands; save for these the church was
+still empty.</p>
+<p>The Recluse led the way up the nave to the north side of the Altar.&nbsp;
+The Child started a little; she was really dreaming then a kind of circular
+dream, for again she stood before the cave, again the reverend figure
+kept watch and ward over the kneeling Maid and the little Babe.&nbsp;
+The sheep and the shepherds were not there, but a little lamb had strayed
+in; and the wonderful figures of fire and mist - they were there in
+their place.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Little one,&rdquo; said the Recluse softly, &ldquo;here is
+a symbol - concealment yet revelation - the King as servant - the strong
+helpless - the Almighty a little child; and thus the infinite stands
+revealed for all of us, visible and attainable, if we will have it so.&nbsp;
+It is the centre of all mystery, the greatest possible wisdom, the Eternal
+Child.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You showed it me before,&rdquo; said the Child, &ldquo;only
+we were out of doors, and the shepherds were there with the sheep; but
+the angels are here just the same.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Recluse bowed his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wait for me here with them, dear Child, I will fetch you after
+service.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The church began to fill; old men in smock frocks and tall hats,
+little children wrapped warm against the cold, lads, shining and spruce,
+old women in crossed shawls and wonderful bonnets.&nbsp; The service
+was not very long; then the Recluse went up into the old grey stone
+pulpit.&nbsp; The villagers settled to listen - he did not often preach.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My brothers and sisters, to-night we keep the Birth of the
+Holy Babe, and to-night you and I stand at the gate of the Kingdom of
+Heaven, the gate which is undone only at the cry of a little child.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Except ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall
+not enter.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Kingdom is a great one, nay, a limitless one; and many
+enter in calling it by another name.&nbsp; It includes your own hearts
+and this wonderful forest, all the wise and beautiful works that men
+have ever thought of or done, and your daily toil; it includes your
+nearest and dearest, the outcast, the prisoner, and the stranger; it
+holds your cottage home and the jewelled City, the New Jerusalem itself.&nbsp;
+People are apt to think the Kingdom of Heaven is like church on Sunday,
+a place to enter once a week in one&rsquo;s best: whereas it holds every
+flower, and has room for the ox and the ass, and the least of all creatures,
+as well as for our prayer and worship and praise.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Except ye become as little children.&rsquo;&nbsp; How
+are we to be born again, simple children with wondering eyes?</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We must learn to lie in helpless dependence, to open our mouth
+wide that it may be filled, to speak with halting tongue the language
+we think we know; we must learn above all our own ignorance, and keep
+alight and cherish the flame of innocency in our hearts.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is a tired world, my brethren, and we are most of us tired
+men and women who live on it, for we seek ever after some new thing.&nbsp;
+Let us pass out through the gate into the Kingdom of Heaven and not
+be tired any more, because there we shall find the new thing that we
+seek.&nbsp; Heaven is on earth, the Kingdom is here and now; the gate
+stands wide to-night, for it is the birthright of the Eternal Child.&nbsp;
+We are none of us too poor, or stupid, or lowly; it was the simple shepherds
+who saw Him first.&nbsp; We are none of us too great, or learned, or
+rich; it was the three wise kings who came next and offered gifts.&nbsp;
+We are none of us too young; it was little children who first laid down
+their lives for Him; or too old, for Simeon saw and recognised Him.&nbsp;
+There is only one thing against most of us - we are too proud.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My brethren, &lsquo;let us now go even to Bethlehem, and face
+this thing which is come to pass, which the LORD hath made known unto
+us.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>The lights were out in the church when the Recluse came to fetch
+the Child.&nbsp; She was still kneeling by the cr&ecirc;che, keeping
+watch with the wonderful figures of fire and mist.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Was <i>this</i> a dream or the other?&rdquo; said the Child.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Neither,&rdquo; said the Recluse, and he blessed her in the
+moonlit dark.</p>
+<p>The air was full of wonderful sound, voices and song, and the cry
+of the bells.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>The Manifestation</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>God said; &ldquo;Let there be light&rdquo;; and in the East<br />A
+star rose flaming from night&rsquo;s purple sea -<br />The star of Truth,
+the star of Joy, the star<br />Seen by the prophets down the lonely
+years;<br />Set for a light to show the Perfect Way;<br />Set for a
+sign that wayfarers might find;<br />Set for a seal to mark the Godhead&rsquo;s
+home.<br />And three Kings in their palaces afar,<br />Who waited ardently
+for promised things,<br />Beheld, and read aright.&nbsp; Straightway
+the road<br />Was hot with pad of camel, horse&rsquo;s hoof,<br />While
+night was quick as day with spurring men<br />And light with flaring
+torch.&nbsp; &ldquo;Haste, haste!&rdquo; they cried,<br />&ldquo;We
+seek the King, the King! for in the East<br />His star&rsquo;s alight.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>BETHLEHEM</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p><i>The Angels</i></p>
+<p>Soft and slow, soft and slow,<br />With angels&rsquo; wings of fire
+and snow,<br />To rock Him gently to and fro.<br />Fire to stay the
+chill at night,<br />Snow to cool the noonday bright;<br />And overhead
+His star&rsquo;s alight.</p>
+<p>Pale and sweet, pale and sweet,<br />Maid Mary keeps her vigil meet,<br />While
+Joseph waits with patient feet.<br />Mary&rsquo;s love for soft embrace,<br />Joseph&rsquo;s
+strength to guard the place.<br />Lo! from the East Kings ride apace.</p>
+<p>Gold and myrrh, gold and myrrh,<br />Frankincense for harbinger,<br />Myrrh
+to make His sepulchre.<br />Roses white and roses red,<br />Thorns arrayed
+for His dear Head.<br />Hail! hail! Wise Men who seek His bed</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p><i>Joseph</i></p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>Little One, Little One, Saviour and Child,<br />Father and Mother,
+my Husband and Son;<br />Born of the lily, the maid undefiled,<br />Babe
+of my Love, the Beatified One.</p>
+<p>Little One, Little One, Master and LORD,<br />Kings of the Earth
+come, desiring Thy Face;<br />I, Thy poor servitor, lowly afford<br />All
+that my life holds, for all is Thy Grace.</p>
+<p>Little One, Little One, GOD over all,<br />Earth is thy footstool,
+and Heav&rsquo;n is Thy throne:<br />Joseph the carpenter, prostrate
+I fall;<br />Praise thee, adore Thee, and claim Thee mine own.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p><i>Maid Mary</i></p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>Babe, dear Babe!<br />Mine own, mine own, my heart&rsquo;s delight,<br />The
+myrrh between my breasts at night,<br />My little Rose, my Lily white,<br />My
+Babe for whom the star&rsquo;s alight.</p>
+<p>Babe, dear Babe!<br />Mine own, mine own, GOD&rsquo;S only SON,<br />Foretold,
+foreseen, since earth begun;<br />Desire of nations, Promised One<br />When
+Eve was first by sin undone.</p>
+<p>Babe, dear Babe!<br />Mine own, mine own, the whole world&rsquo;s
+Child!<br />Born of each heart that&rsquo;s undefiled,<br />Nursed at
+the breast of Mercy mild,<br />And in the arms of Love asiled.</p>
+<p>Babe, dear Babe!<br />My crown of glory, sorrow&rsquo;s sword,<br />My
+Maker, King, Redeemer, Lord,<br />My Saviour and my great Reward;<br />My
+little Son, my Babe adored.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p><i>The Three Kings</i></p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>Hail!&nbsp; Hail thou wondrous little King!<br />To Thy dear Feet<br />Our
+offerings meet<br />With bended knee we bring;<br />O mighty baby King,<br />Accept
+the offering.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p><i>First King</i></p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>LORD, I stoop low<br />My head of snow,<br />Thus I, the great, hail
+Thee, the Least!<br />And swing the censer for the Priest,<br />The
+Priest with hands upraised to bless,<br />The Priest of this world&rsquo;s
+bitterness.<br />As I stoop low<br />My head of snow,<br />Bless me,
+O Priest, before I go.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p><i>Second King</i></p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>Behold me, King!<br />A man of might,<br />Who rules dominions infinite;<br />Strong
+in the harvest of the years,<br />And one who counts no kings as peers.<br />O
+little King,<br />Behold my crown!<br />I lay it down,<br />And bow
+before Thy lowly bed<br />My all unworthy uncrowned head,<br />For I
+am naught and Thou art All.<br />And Thou shalt climb a throne set high,<br />Between
+sad earth and silent sky,<br />Thereon to agonize and die;<br />And
+at Thy Feet the world shall fall.<br />Stretch out Thy little Hands,
+O King,<br />Behold the world&rsquo;s imagining!</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p><i>Third King</i></p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>Out of the shadow of the night<br />I come, led by the starshine
+bright,<br />With broken heart to bring to Thee<br />The fruit of Thine
+Epiphany,<br />The gift my fellows send by me,<br />The myrrh to bed
+Thine agony.<br />I set it here beneath Thy Feet,<br />In token of Death&rsquo;s
+great defeat;<br />And hail Thee Conqueror in the strife;<br />And hail
+Thee Lord of Light and Life.<br />All hail!&nbsp; All hail the Virgin&rsquo;s
+Son!<br />All hail!&nbsp; Thou little helpless One!<br />All hail!&nbsp;
+Thou King upon the Tree!<br />All hail!&nbsp; The Babe on Mary&rsquo;s
+knee,<br />The centre of all mystery!</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>All Souls&rsquo; Day in a German Town</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>The leaves fall softly: a wind of sighs<br />Whispers the world&rsquo;s
+infirmities,<br />Whispers the tale of the waning years,<br />While
+slow mists gather in shrouding tears<br />On All Souls&rsquo; Day; and
+the bells are slow<br />In steeple and tower.&nbsp; Sad folk go<br />Away
+from the township, past the mill,<br />And mount the slope of a grassy
+hill<br />Carved into terraces broad and steep,<br />To the inn where
+wearied travellers sleep,<br />Where the sleepers lie in ordered rows,<br />And
+no man stirs in his long repose.<br />They wend their way past the haunts
+of life,<br />Father and daughter, grandmother, wife,<br />To deck with
+candle and deathless cross,<br />The house which holds their dearest
+loss.<br />I, who stand on the crest of the hill,<br />Watch how beneath
+me, busied still,<br />The sad folk wreathe each grave with flowers.<br />Awhile
+the veil of the twilight hours<br />Falls softly, softly, over the hill,<br />Shadows
+the cross:- creeps on until<br />Swiftly upon us is flung the dark.<br />Then,
+as if lit by a sudden spark,<br />Each grave is vivid with points of
+light,<br />Earth is as Heaven&rsquo;s mirror to-night;<br />The air
+is still as a spirit&rsquo;s breath,<br />The lights burn bright in
+the realm of Death.<br />Then silent the mourners mourning go,<br />Wending
+their way to the church below;<br />While the bells toll out to bid
+them speed,<br />With eager Pater and prayerful bead,<br />The souls
+of the dead, whose bodies still<br />Lie in the churchyard under the
+hill;<br />While they wait and wonder in Paradise,<br />And gaze on
+the dawning mysteries,<br />Praying for us in our hours of need;<br />For
+us, who with Pater and prayerful bead<br />Have bidden those waiting
+spirits speed.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>Rivers and Streams</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Running water has a charm all its own; it proffers companionship
+of which one never tires; it adapts itself to moods; it is the guardian
+of secrets.&nbsp; It has cool draughts for the thirsty soul as well
+as for drooping flowers; and they who wander in the garden of God with
+listening ears learn of its many voices.</p>
+<p>When the strain of a working day has left me weary, perhaps troubled
+and perplexed, I find my way to the river.&nbsp; I step into a boat
+and pull up stream until the exertion has refreshed me; and then I make
+fast to the old alder-stump where last year the reed-piper nested, and
+lie back in the stern and think.</p>
+<p>The water laps against the keel as the boat rocks gently in the current;
+the river flows past, strong and quiet.&nbsp; There are side eddies,
+of course, and little disturbing whirlpools near the big stones, but
+they are all gathered into the broad sweep of the stream, carried down
+to the great catholic sea.&nbsp; And while I listen to the murmur of
+the water and watch its quiet strength the day&rsquo;s wrinkles are
+smoothed out of my face; and at last the river bears me homeward rested
+and at peace.</p>
+<p>There are long stretches of time for me when I must remain apart
+from the world of work, often unwilling, sometimes with a very sore
+heart.&nbsp; Then I turn my steps towards my friend and wander along
+the banks, a solitary not alone.&nbsp; In the quiet evening light I
+watch the stream &lsquo;never hasting, never resting&rsquo;: the grass
+that grows beside it is always green, the flowers are fresh; it makes
+long embracing curves - I could cross from point to point in a minute,
+but to follow takes five.&nbsp; The ways of the water are ways of healing;
+I have a companion who makes no mistakes, touches none of my tender
+spots.</p>
+<p>Presently I reach the silent pool, where the stream takes a wide
+sweep.&nbsp; Here the fair white water-lilies lie on their broad green
+leaves and wait for their lover the moon; for then they open their silvery
+leaves and bloom in the soft light fairer far than beneath the hot rays
+of the sun.&nbsp; Then, too, the buds rise out of the water and the
+moon kisses them into bloom and fragrance.&nbsp; Near by are the little
+yellow water-lilies, set for beauty against a background of great blue-eyed
+forget-me-nots and tall feathery meadowsweet.&nbsp; The river still
+sweeps on its way, but the pool is undisturbed; it lies out of the current.&nbsp;
+They say it is very deep - no one knows quite how deep - and it has
+its hidden tragedy.&nbsp; I gaze down through the clear water, following
+the thick lily-stalks - a forest where solemn carp sail in and out and
+perch chase each other through the maze - and beyond them I cannot see
+the bottom, the secret of its stillness; but I may watch the clouds
+mirrored on its surface, and the evening glow lying at my feet.</p>
+<p>I think of the fathomless depths of the peace of God, fair with flowers
+of hope; of still places wrought in man; of mirrors that reflect, in
+light uncomprehended, the Image of the Holy Face.</p>
+<p>I go home across the common, comforted, towards the little town where
+the red roofs lie glimmering in the evening shadows, and the old grey
+church stands out clear and distinct against the fading sky.</p>
+<p>* * * * *</p>
+<p>One of the happiest memories of my childhood is the little brook
+in the home field.&nbsp; I know it was not a very clean little brook
+- it passed through an industrious manufacturing world - but to me then
+this mattered not at all.</p>
+<p>Where it had its source I never found out; it came from a little
+cave in the side of the hill, and I remember that one of its banks was
+always higher than the other.&nbsp; I once sought to penetrate the cave,
+but with sad results in the shape of bed before dinner and no pudding,
+such small sympathy have one&rsquo;s elders with the spirit of research.&nbsp;
+Just beyond the cave the brook was quite a respectable width, - even
+my big boy cousin fell into mud and disgrace when he tried to jump it
+- and there was a gravelly beach, at least several inches square, where
+we launched our boats of hollowed elder-wood.&nbsp; Soon, however, it
+narrowed, it could even be stepped over; but it was still exciting and
+delightful, with two perilous rapids over which the boats had to be
+guided, and many boulders - for the brook was a brave stream, and had
+fashioned its bed in rocky soil.&nbsp; Further down was our bridge,
+one flat stone dragged thither by really herculean efforts.&nbsp; It
+was unnecessary, but a triumph.&nbsp; A little below this outcome of
+our engineering skill the brook widened again before disappearing under
+a flagged tunnel into the neighbouring field.&nbsp; Here, in the shallows,
+we built an aquarium.&nbsp; It was not altogether successful, because
+whenever it rained at all hard the beasts were washed out; but there
+was always joy in restocking it.&nbsp; Under one of the banks close
+by lived a fat frog for whom I felt great respect.&nbsp; We used to
+sit and gaze at each other in silent intercourse, until he became bored
+- I think I never did - and flopped into the water with a splash.</p>
+<p>But it was the brook itself that was my chief and dearest companion.&nbsp;
+It chattered and sang to me, and told me of the goblins who lived under
+the hill, of fairies dancing on the grass on moonlight nights, and scolding
+the pale lilac milk-maids on the banks; and of a sad little old man
+dressed in brown, always sad because his dear water-children ran away
+from him when they heard the voice of the great river telling them of
+the calling of the sea.</p>
+<p>It spoke to me of other more wonderful things, not even now to be
+put into words, things of the mysteries of a child&rsquo;s imagination;
+and these linger still in my life, and will linger, I think, until they
+are fulfilled.</p>
+<p>* * * * *</p>
+<p>I have another friend - a Devonshire stream.&nbsp; I found it in
+spring when the fields along its banks were golden with Lent-lilies.&nbsp;
+I do not even know its name; it has its source up among the old grey
+tors, and doubtless in its beginning had a hard fight for existence.&nbsp;
+When it reaches the plain it is a good-sized stream, although nowhere
+navigable.&nbsp; I do not think it even turns a mill; it just flows
+along and waters the flowers.&nbsp; I have seen it with my bodily eyes
+only once; but it has left in my life a blessing, a picture of blue
+sky, yellow bells, and clear rippling water - and whispered secrets
+not forgotten.</p>
+<p>All the Devonshire streams are full of life and strength.&nbsp; They
+chatter cheerily over stones, they toil bravely to shape out their bed.&nbsp;
+Some of them might tell horrible tales of the far-away past, of the
+worship of the false god when blood stained the clear waters; tales,
+too, of feud and warfare, of grave council and martial gathering; and
+happy stories of fairy and pixy our eyes are too dull to see, and of
+queer little hillmen with foreign ways and terror of all human beings.&nbsp;
+Their banks are bright with tormentil, blue with forget-me-not, rich
+in treasures of starry moss; the water is clear, cool in the hottest
+summer - they rise under the shadow of the everlasting hills, and their
+goal is the sea.</p>
+<p>* * * * *</p>
+<p>There are other times when I must leave the clean waters and the
+good brown earth, to live, for a while, in London: and there I go on
+pilgrimage that I may listen to the river&rsquo;s voice.</p>
+<p>I stand sometimes at a wharf where the ships are being unloaded of
+the riches of every country, of fruits of labour by my unknown brothers
+in strange lands; and the river speaks of citizenship in the great world
+of God, wherein all men have place, each man have his own place, and
+every one should be neighbour to him who may have need.</p>
+<p>I pass on to London Bridge, our Bridge of Sighs.&nbsp; How many of
+these my brethren have sought refuge in the cold grey arms of the river
+from something worse than death?&nbsp; What drove them to this dreadful
+resting-place?&nbsp; What spectre hurried them to the leap?&nbsp; These
+things, too, are my concern, the river says.</p>
+<p>Life is very grim in London: it is not painted in the fair, glowing
+colours of grass and sky and trees, and shining streams that bring peace.&nbsp;
+It is drawn in hard black and white; but the voice of its dark waters
+must be heard all the same.</p>
+<p>* * * * *</p>
+<p>I would not leave my rivers in the shadow.&nbsp; After all, this
+life is only a prelude, a beginning: we pass on to where &ldquo;the
+rivers and streams make glad the city of God.&rdquo;&nbsp; But if we
+will not listen here how shall we understand hereafter.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>Spring</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Hark how the merry daffodils,<br />Fling golden music to the hills!<br />And
+how the hills send echoing down,<br />Through wind-swept turf and moorland
+brown,<br />The murmurs of a thousand rills<br />That mock the song-birds&rsquo;
+liquid trills!<br />The hedge released from Winter&rsquo;s frown<br />Shews
+jewelled branch and willow crown;<br />While all the earth with pleasure
+trills,<br />And &lsquo;dances with the daffodils.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Out, out, ye flowers!&nbsp; Up and shout!<br />Staid Winter&rsquo;s
+passed and Spring&rsquo;s about<br />To lead your ranks in joyous rout;<br />To
+string the hawthorn&rsquo;s milky pearls,<br />And gild the grass with
+celandine;<br />To dress the catkins&rsquo; tasselled curls,<br />To
+twist the tendrils of the vine.<br />She wakes the wind-flower from
+her sleep,<br />And lights the woods with April&rsquo;s moon;<br />The
+violets lift their heads to peep,<br />The daisies brave the sun at
+noon.</p>
+<p>The gentle wind from out the west<br />Toys with the lilac pretty
+maids;<br />Ruffles the meadow&rsquo;s verdant-vest,<br />And rings
+the bluebells in the glades;<br />The ash-buds change their sombre suit,<br />The
+orchards blossom white and red -<br />Promise of Autumn&rsquo;s riper
+fruit,<br />When Spring&rsquo;s voluptuousness has fled.<br />Awake!
+awake, O throstle sweet!<br />And haste with all your choir to greet<br />This
+Queen who comes with wakening feet.</p>
+<p>Persephone with grateful eyes<br />Salutes the Sun - &rsquo;tis Paradise:<br />Then
+hastens down the dewy meads,<br />Past where the herd contented feeds,<br />Past
+where the furrows hide the grain,<br />For harvesting of sun and rain;<br />To
+where Demeter patient stands<br />With longing lips and outstretched
+hands,<br />Until the dawning of one face<br />Across the void of time
+and space<br />Shall bring again her day of grace.<br />Rejoice, O Earth!&nbsp;
+Rejoice and sing!<br />This is the promise of the Spring,<br />And this
+the world&rsquo;s remembering.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>A Lark&rsquo;s Song</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Sweet, sweet!<br />I rise to greet<br />The sapphire sky<br />The
+air slips by<br />On either side<br />As up I ride<br />On mounting
+wing,<br />And sing and sing -<br />Then reach my bliss,<br />The sun&rsquo;s
+great kiss;<br />And poise a space<br />To see his face,<br />Sweet,
+sweet,<br />In radiant grace,<br />Ah, sweet! ah, sweet!</p>
+<p>Sweet, sweet!<br />Beneath my feet<br />My nestlings call:<br />And
+down I fall<br />Unerring, true,<br />Through heaven&rsquo;s blue;<br />And
+haste to fill<br />Each noisy bill.<br />My brooding breast<br />Stills
+their unrest.<br />Sweet, sweet,<br />Their quick hearts beat,<br />Safe
+in the nest:<br />Ah, sweet, sweet, sweet!<br />Ah, sweet!</p>
+<p>Sweet, sweet<br />The calling sky<br />That bids me fly<br />Up -
+up - on high.<br />Sweet, sweet<br />The claiming earth;<br />It holds
+my nest<br />And draws me down<br />To where Love&rsquo;s crown<br />Of
+priceless worth<br />Awaits my breast.<br />Sweet, sweet!<br />Ah, this
+is best<br />And this most meet,<br />Sweet, sweet! ah, sweet!</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>&lsquo;Luvly Miss&rsquo;</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Nobody thought of consequences.&nbsp; There was a lighted paraffin
+lamp on the table and nothing else handy.&nbsp; Mrs Brown&rsquo;s head
+presented a tempting mark, and of course Mr Brown&rsquo;s lengthy stay
+at &lsquo;The Three Fingers&rsquo; had something to do with it; but
+nobody thought of Miss Brown, aged four, who was playing happily on
+the floor, unruffled by the storm to which she was so well accustomed.</p>
+<p>Mrs Brown ducked; there was a smash, a scream, and poor little Miss
+Brown was in a blaze.&nbsp; The shock sobered the father and silenced
+the mother.&nbsp; Miss Brown was extinguished with the aid of a table-cover,
+much water, and many neighbours; but she was horribly burnt all over,
+except her face.</p>
+<p>* * * * *</p>
+<p>I made Miss Brown&rsquo;s acquaintance a few days later.&nbsp; She
+was lying on a bed made up on two chairs, and was covered with cotton
+wool.&nbsp; She had scarcely any pain, and could not move at all; and
+the small face that peered out of what she called her &ldquo;pitty warm
+snow&rdquo; was wan and drawn and had a far-away look in the dark eyes.</p>
+<p>Miss Brown possessed one treasure, her &lsquo;luvly miss.&rsquo;&nbsp;
+I suppose I must call it a doll, though in what its claim to the title
+consisted I dared not ask; Miss Brown would have deeply resented the
+enquiry.&nbsp; It was a very large potato with a large and a small bulge.&nbsp;
+Into the large bulge were inserted three pieces of fire-wood, the body
+and arms of &lsquo;luvly miss&rsquo;; legs she had none.</p>
+<p>How Miss Brown came by this treasure I never heard.&nbsp; She had
+an impression that it &ldquo;flied froo the winder&rdquo; - I fancy
+Mr Brown had a hand in the manufacture in one of his lucid moments;
+but it was a treasure indeed and the joy of Miss Brown&rsquo;s life.&nbsp;
+She held long conversations with &lsquo;luvly miss&rsquo; on all familiar
+subjects; and apparently obtained much strange and rare information
+from her.&nbsp; For example, Miss Brown and &lsquo;luvly miss&rsquo;
+in some previous stage of their existence had inhabited a large chimney-pot
+together, &ldquo;where it was always so warm and a bootie &lsquo;mell
+of cookin&rsquo;.&rsquo;&rdquo;&nbsp; Also she had a rooted belief that
+one day she and &lsquo;luvly miss&rsquo; would be &ldquo;hangels wiv&rsquo;
+black weils and basticks.&rdquo;&nbsp; This puzzled me for some time,
+until I discovered it to be an allusion to the good deaconess who attended
+her, and whom Mrs Brown in gratitude designated by this title.</p>
+<p>Alas for little Miss Brown and her &lsquo;luvly miss&rsquo;! their
+respective ends were drawing near.&nbsp; I went in one Friday, a week
+or so after the accident, and found Mrs Brown in tears and despair,
+and Miss Brown with a look of anguish on her poor little pinched face
+that was bad to see.&nbsp; &lsquo;Luvly Miss&rsquo; was no more.</p>
+<p>It was Mr Brown again; or, to trace back the links of occasion, it
+was the action of &lsquo;The Three Fingers&rsquo; on Mr Brown&rsquo;s
+frail constitution.&nbsp; He had come in late, seen &lsquo;luvly miss&rsquo;
+on the table, and, with his usual heedlessness of consequence, had chucked
+her into the dying embers where - alas that I should have to say it!
+- she slowly baked.&nbsp; Little Miss Brown, when the miserable truth
+was broken to her, neither wept nor remonstrated; she lay quite still
+with a look of utter forsaken wretchedness on her tiny white face, and
+moaned very softly for &lsquo;luvly miss.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>I came face to face with this state of things and I confess it staggered
+me.&nbsp; I knew Miss Brown too well to hope that any pink-and-white
+darling from the toy-shop could replace &lsquo;luvly miss,&rsquo; or
+that she could be persuaded to admit even a very image of the dear departed
+into her affections.&nbsp; Then, too, the doctor said Miss Brown had
+but a few days at the most, perhaps only hours, to live; and comforted
+she must be.</p>
+<p>All at once I had an inspiration, and never in my life have I welcomed
+one more.&nbsp; I knelt down by little Miss Brown and told her the story
+of the Phoenix.&nbsp; I had not reckoned in vain upon her imagination:
+would I &ldquo;yerely and twooly bwing&rdquo; her &ldquo;werry own luvly
+miss out of the ashes?&rdquo;&nbsp; I lied cheerfully and hastened away
+to the dust-bin, accompanied by Mrs Brown.</p>
+<p>In a few minutes we returned with a pail of ashes, the ashes, of
+course, of &lsquo;luvly miss&rsquo; mingled with those of the cruel
+fire which had consumed her.&nbsp; I danced solemnly round them, murmured
+mysterious words, parted the ashes, and revealed the form of &lsquo;luvly
+miss.&rsquo;&nbsp; Love&rsquo;s eyes were not sharp to mark a change,
+and little Miss Brown&rsquo;s misplaced faith in me was strong.&nbsp;
+Never shall I forget the scream of joy which greeted the restored treasure,
+or the relief with which I saw an expression of peace settle once more
+on Miss Brown&rsquo;s face.</p>
+<p>I saw them again next day.&nbsp; Little Miss Brown was asleep in
+her last little bed, still wrapped in the &ldquo;pitty warm snow,&rdquo;
+and &lsquo;luvly miss&rsquo; lay beside her.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>Four Stories Told to Children</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>The Story of the Dreadful Griffin.</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>My Dear Children, - I am going to tell you a really breathless story
+for your holiday treat.&nbsp; It will have to begin with the moral,
+because everyone will be too much exhausted to read one at the end,
+and as the moral is the only part that really matters, it is important
+to come to it quite fresh.</p>
+<p>We will, therefore, endeavour to learn from this story:-</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>If we fly at all, to fly <i>high.<br /></i>To be extremely polite.<br />To
+be kind and grateful to cats and all other animals.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>All the trouble arose one day when the Princess (there is always
+a Princess in a fairy-tale, you know) was playing in the garden with
+her ball.&nbsp; She threw it up in the air much higher than usual and
+it never came down again.&nbsp; There was an awful shriek, like ten
+thousand steam-engines; all the ladies-in-waiting fainted in a row,
+the inhabitants of the place went stone-deaf, and the Captain of the
+Guard, who was in attendance with a company of his troops, seized the
+Princess, put her on his horse, galloped away followed by his soldiers
+to a castle on the top of a hill, deposited the Princess in the highest
+room, and then and only then, told her what had happened.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Miss,&rdquo; he said, for he was so upset he forgot Court
+etiquette, &ldquo;Miss, your ball must have hit the Dreadful Griffin
+in the eye (I noticed he was taking a little fly in the neighbourhood),
+and that was the reason of the awful shriek.&nbsp; Well, Miss, the Dreadful
+Griffin never was known to forgive anybody anything, so I snatched you
+up quick before he could get at you and brought you to the Castle of
+the White Cats.&nbsp; There are seventeen of these animals sitting outside
+the door and twenty-seven more standing in the courtyard, so you&rsquo;re
+as safe as safe can be, for the Dreadful Griffin can&rsquo;t look at
+a white cat without getting the ague and then he shakes so a mouse wouldn&rsquo;t
+be afraid of him.&nbsp; And now, Miss, I must go back to your Royal
+Pa, so I will wish you good-morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Having made this long speech the Captain suddenly remembered the
+Court etiquette, became very hot and red, went out of the room backwards,
+and instantly fell over the seventeen cats who all swore at him, which
+so confused the poor man that he rolled down the stairs and out into
+the court where the twenty-seven cats were having rations of mouse-pie
+served out to them; and the Captain rolled into the middle of the pie,
+scalded himself badly with the gravy, and was thankful to jump on his
+horse and ride away with his soldiers to report matters to the King.</p>
+<p>The King was so pleased with his promptitude that he made him the
+General of the Flying Squadron, which only fights in the air, and conferred
+on him the medal of the Society for the Suppression of Superfluous Salamanders,
+whereat the Captain was overjoyed.</p>
+<p>But this is a digression, and I only told you because I wanted you
+to see that virtue is always rewarded.</p>
+<p>Now for the poor Princess.</p>
+<p>Well, she cried a little, of course, but the cats brought her some
+mouse-pie, which she found very good, and she was soon quite happy playing
+with some of the kittens and nearly forgot all about the Dreadful Griffin;
+but he did not forget about <i>her</i>, oh dear no!&nbsp; He flew after
+the Captain when he galloped away with the Princess, but when he saw
+the White Cats he shook with ague so fearfully that his teeth rolled
+about in his mouth like billiard balls and he had to go and get a new
+set before he could eat his dinner.&nbsp; Well, he was in a perfect
+fury, and how to get at the Princess he did not know.&nbsp; He swallowed
+several buckets of hot brimstone, rolled his head in a red flannel petticoat,
+put his tail in a hot sand-bag, and went to bed hoping to cure the ague,
+which he did completely, so that he was quite well next day and more
+anxious to eat the Princess than ever.</p>
+<p>Now next door to the Dreadful Griffin (that is, a hundred miles away)
+there lived a Wicked Witch, and he went to consult her as to how he
+might get at the Princess.&nbsp; When the Wicked Witch heard what a
+sad effect White Cats had on the Griffin&rsquo;s constitution she said
+that she would have expected a Griffin of his coils to have had more
+sense.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Any slow-worm knows,&rdquo; said the Wicked Witch, &ldquo;that
+cats love mice better than Princesses; therefore get a large sack of
+fat mice, let them loose a little way from the castle, and when the
+cats see them they will run after them, and you can eat the Princess.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Dreadful Griffin was so pleased with the Wicked Witch that he
+presented her with a pair of fire-bricks and a hot-water tin, and then
+flew away to the Purveyor of Mice, who lived in a town about seventy
+miles away.&nbsp; He bought twelve hundred dozen fat mice of the best
+quality, all the Purveyor had in stock that were home-grown, and flew
+on with them to the castle.&nbsp; When he was a little way off he let
+the mice out, expecting all the cats to arrive at once; but not a cat
+appeared.&nbsp; They <i>heard</i> mice and they <i>smelt</i> mice, but
+not a cat moved, for they were on their honour; so they kept guard and
+licked their lips sadly.&nbsp; When the Griffin saw the last of the
+twelve hundred dozen mice disappearing down the road with never a cat
+after them, he was in a tremendous temper and flew away to the house
+of the Wicked Witch, only stopping to pick up a steam engine which he
+dropped through her roof, and then went home to bed.&nbsp; Next day
+he remembered a friend of his called the Grumpy Giant, who lived six
+doors away, that is, about a thousand miles, so he flew to ask his advice.&nbsp;
+When the Giant heard his story, he said in the gruffest voice you ever
+heard, &ldquo;Mice is common, try sparrers&rdquo; (by which you can
+see that he was quite an uneducated person), and then he turned over
+and went to sleep.</p>
+<p>The Dreadful Griffin at once flew away to the Sparrow Preserves,
+bought eleven thousand, and then proceeded to let them fly close to
+the castle.&nbsp; Still not a cat moved.&nbsp; As the cats&rsquo; copy-book
+well says, &ldquo;Honour is dearer to cats than mice or birds,&rdquo;
+and all the kittens write this in round-hand as soon as they can do
+lessons at all, and never forget it.</p>
+<p>Well, I really dare not describe the state of mind the Griffin was
+in; but he made the air so hot that all the people put on their thinnest
+clothes, although it was the middle of winter.&nbsp; He flew home puffing
+and snorting, and on the way he passed the house of the Amiable Answerer.&nbsp;
+He went in and told his story, and his voice shook with rage.&nbsp;
+The Amiable Answerer gave him a penny pink ice to cool him down, and
+then said gently:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think, dear Mr Griffin, that green spectacles would meet
+your case.&nbsp; Then the cats which are now white would appear to you
+green and . . . &rdquo;</p>
+<p>But the Griffin was already half-way to a Watchmaker&rsquo;s where
+they sold glasses.&nbsp; He burst into the shop, frightened the watchmaker
+so that he fell into the works of the watch he was mending and could
+only be got out with the greatest difficulty, seized twelve pairs of
+green spectacles, put them on all at once and flew towards the castle.</p>
+<p>Now the Dreadful Griffin was one of those creatures who do not stop
+to think, consequently he came to grief.&nbsp; White cats gave him the
+ague, but green dogs made him cough most fearfully; and a little way
+out of the town he met thirteen white poodles taking a walk, who of
+course all looked bright green to the Dreadful Griffin.&nbsp; He coughed
+so fearfully that all the twelve pairs of spectacles fell off his nose
+and were smashed to bits, and his plan was spoilt once more.</p>
+<p>No, I am not going to tell you what the Dreadful Griffin said and
+did then, it is too terrible to speak of, but he had to keep in bed
+for a week, and drink hot tar, and have his chest ironed with a steam
+roller, and his nose greased with seven pounds of tallow candles; but
+all his misfortunes did not cure him of wanting to eat the Princess.&nbsp;
+When his cough was better, he went for a walk in the wood near which
+he lived, to think out a new plan.&nbsp; Suddenly he heard something
+croaking, and saw the Fat Frog sitting under a tree.&nbsp; Now the Dreadful
+Griffin was so low in his mind that he wanted to tell someone his troubles,
+so he told the Fat Frog.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t come near me,&rdquo; said the Fat Frog when he
+had finished, &ldquo;for I hate heat.&nbsp; If you look under the fifth
+tree from the end of the wood you&rsquo;ll find a thin packet.&nbsp;
+Put it in sixteen gallons of water and pour it over the cats, only mind
+you shut your eyes first, and for goodness sake don&rsquo;t come into
+this wood any more, you dry up the moisture.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Griffin quite forgot to thank the Fat Frog, he was a Griffin
+of <i>no</i> manners, but he didn&rsquo;t forget to take the packet.&nbsp;
+It was labelled &lsquo;Reckitt&rsquo;s,&rsquo; and when he put it in
+the water all the water turned bright blue.&nbsp; Then he took the pail
+in his claw, flew to the castle, shut his eyes and poured some of the
+contents of the pail over the cats in the courtyard.</p>
+<p>When he opened his eyes there were twenty-seven bright blue, damp,
+depressed cats; and he passed them without any difficulty.&nbsp; He
+shut his eyes, wriggled up the stairs, poured the remaining mixture
+over the seventeen cats, who all turned as blue as the rest, and then
+he burst open the door of the Princess&rsquo;s room.&nbsp; Fortunately
+there was a kind Fairy flying over the castle at that very moment, who,
+seeing what was happening, changed the Princess into a flea so that
+the Dreadful Griffin couldn&rsquo;t see her anywhere.</p>
+<p>No, if I couldn&rsquo;t tell you before, I certainly must not attempt
+now to describe the Griffin&rsquo;s behaviour when he found the Princess
+thus snatched from his jaws.&nbsp; He went grunting and bellowing and
+screaming along; and just as he was stopping to take breath he heard
+someone roaring with laughter, and saw a little yellow man sitting on
+the top bough of a tree.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you laughing at ME?&rdquo; said the Dreadful Griffin (he
+was so angry that he was quite polite).&nbsp; And the little man said
+quite as politely that he certainly <i>was</i>.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why?&rdquo; said the Dreadful Griffin, still fearfully polite.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because you&rsquo;re such a green Griffin,&rdquo; said the
+yellow man; and he screamed with laughter again - &ldquo;I know all
+about it, you&rsquo;ve blued the cats and now the Princess has greened
+you.&nbsp; She&rsquo;s turned into a flea, and you still want to eat
+her, and it never occurred to you, you green old grampus of a Griffin,
+that fleas like <i>cats</i>.&nbsp; I suppose the Princess flea wouldn&rsquo;t
+jump on to a tabby kitten, and you couldn&rsquo;t swallow the kitten
+- oh dear, no - of course not . . . .&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But the Griffin was gone.&nbsp; He went to the Zoo, found a tabby
+kitten, though they are rare in that country, and flew back with it
+to the Princess&rsquo;s room.</p>
+<p>He waited half an hour and then swallowed the kitten at one gulp;
+but he instantly burst in four pieces, for the fluffy kitten tickled
+his digestive organs so much that they cracked his sides and he died;
+and the flea and the kitten came out quite unhurt, only a little damp.</p>
+<p>Then a wonderful thing happened.&nbsp; The tabby kitten changed into
+the little yellow man who had laughed at the Griffin.&nbsp; He grew,
+and grew, and in a few minutes he was a handsome prince.&nbsp; His name
+was Prince Orange Plushikins.&nbsp; One day a cruel witch whom he had
+offended had changed him into an ugly yellow man, and had sworn that
+he should only regain his shape if he was eaten by a Griffin when under
+the form of a tabby kitten; which you know was precisely what happened.&nbsp;
+Well, Prince Orange Plushikins at once asked the Princess flea to marry
+him, and the minute the flea said &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; the Princess reappeared.&nbsp;
+She and the Prince were married next morning; and all the cats went
+to the steam laundry and were washed and bleached and had their tails
+crimped and their whiskers starched; and they danced at the wedding,
+and everybody lived happily ever after.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>The Discontented Daffodils.</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>They had the very loveliest home you can imagine, with beautiful
+soft moss and grass to grow in, trees to form a cosy shelter from the
+wind, and a dear little babbling stream to water them.</p>
+<p>There were lots of daffodils in this pretty place, and nobody ever
+discovered the nook to gather them.&nbsp; They rejoiced in the spring
+sunshine and gentle breezes, the greeting of the birds, and the musical
+chatter of the brook; then when their brief visit to the upper world
+was over they nestled happily down in their warm mossy beds and slept
+till April came again to wake them.</p>
+<p>A little apart from the rest were four daffodils growing at the root
+of a gnarled oak tree, and one fine sunshiny morning three of them took
+it into their silly little heads that they were dull, the place was
+dull, the other daffodils were dull, and they wanted a change.</p>
+<p>It was mainly the fault of the cuckoo, for he was a grumbling, mischief-making
+bird and used to spend a good deal of time talking to the daffodils.&nbsp;
+This particular spring he had taken up his abode in the oak tree, and
+was fond of talking of all the grand things he had seen, and a great
+many he had not seen, for the cuckoo is a bird of fine imagination;
+and at last, as I have already said, three of the daffodils made up
+their minds that to be a flower and live in a wood was a very dreadful
+thing, and not to be put up with any longer.</p>
+<p>Now the cuckoo had told many strange tales about creatures with two
+legs and beautiful coloured leaves which grew in an odd way, and feathers
+only on their heads.&nbsp; They could not fly, but they could run about
+from place to place, and dance and sing; and at last the daffodils decided
+that they wished to be like these curious creatures, which the cuckoo
+called <i>girls.</i></p>
+<p>Then there were sad times in that sweet little nook under the oak
+tree.</p>
+<p>The naughty daffodils cried and quarrelled and bewailed their lot
+all day long, till they made themselves and everybody else extremely
+wretched.&nbsp; Their little sister shook her head at them, and scolded
+and said that for her part she was not meant to have legs; but it was
+all no use, the daffodils would not be quiet.</p>
+<p>One day the Fairy Visitor who looked after the flowers in that part
+heard the silly blossoms crying, and stopped to ask what was the matter.&nbsp;
+When she heard the story she told them they were very foolish and discontented,
+and that the cuckoo was a most mischievous bird and liked to get people
+into trouble; but the daffodils would not listen.&nbsp; So knowing there
+is nothing so likely to cure silly flower as to give them their own
+silly way, she said - &ldquo;Very well, my dears, you want to be girls,
+and girls you shall be.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With that she waved her wand over the three daffodils and in a twinkle
+they were gone; in their places stood three tall pretty maidens dressed
+in soft yellow silk frocks with green stockings and shoes.&nbsp; For
+a minute they were too much astonished to speak, then clapping their
+hands they laughed and skipped for joy, and wanted to kiss the old fairy
+because they were so pleased at getting their own way; but the fairy
+would not look at them, and stooped over the little flower now growing
+all alone, saying kindly:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, little one, don&rsquo;t you want to be a pretty maiden,
+too?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But the daffodil shook her head with great determination:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want legs and I won&rsquo;t have legs.&nbsp;
+I was meant to be a flower and a flower I will be, but if you could
+keep that meddling, chattering cuckoo away from this tree for a time
+I should be much obliged.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And the fairy laughed and promised.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile the three pretty maidens had set of hand in hand to seek
+their fortunes.</p>
+<p>They went singing and dancing over the meadows in the soft afternoon
+sunshine, and thought how wise and clever they were to be girls instead
+of little unnoticed flowers growing in a wood.</p>
+<p>Presently they came to a house and stopped to ask whether they could
+have a lodging for the night.&nbsp; There was no difficulty about it,
+for that is a happy country where there is no money and everything belongs
+to everybody, so the people of the house - an old man and woman - were
+delighted to see the beautiful maidens and made them heartily welcome,
+and the daffodils went to bed that night very happy and quite content
+with the result of their experiment.&nbsp; When they came to undress,
+however, they received a severe shock.</p>
+<p>They were girls, real proper girls, they could chatter and eat and
+sleep, for the fairy was not one to do things by halves; but when they
+pulled off the dainty green shoes and stockings, they discovered that
+although they had the prettiest little legs and feet and toes in the
+world, they were quite green, the colour of daffodil leaves.</p>
+<p>There wasn&rsquo;t anything said about a &ldquo;dear, darling, kind
+old fairy&rdquo; then, I can assure you.</p>
+<p>The first daffodil said she was a wicked old witch.&nbsp; The second
+said she was a horrible old woman; and the third said she knew the fairy
+meant to pay them out, and she would like to scratch her.&nbsp; Then
+they all set to work arguing and quarrelling and crying like silly babies,
+when suddenly a familiar &ldquo;Cuck-oo!&rdquo; sounded in their ears,
+and they saw our old acquaintance perched on the window sill.</p>
+<p>He looked at the six little green feet, and his eyes twinkled; but
+before he could speak the three angry maidens all began scolding him
+at once, for they were delighted to have somebody fresh to find fault
+with.</p>
+<p>The cuckoo, being in some respects a philosopher, did not attempt
+to interrupt, but when they were quite exhausted he said he really could
+not see any reason for their distress.&nbsp; No one would ever wish
+to see their feet, and they could always wear stockings.&nbsp; He added
+that he had great news, and had come on purpose to bring it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The King of Silverland,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;is coming with
+all his court to hold high revel close to this place and celebrate the
+coming of age of his three sons.&nbsp; These princes were all born at
+once; and the king has decided to divide his kingdom into three equal
+parts and leave his sons to rule while he retires to his country place
+to study science.&nbsp; Now these Silver princes desire to marry three
+princesses, sisters born at once like themselves; but they are very
+hard to find, and the king is advertising everywhere for triplets.&nbsp;
+When I heard this I set off at once to tell you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The three maidens were so much interested and excited that they forgot
+their troubles and began to sing.</p>
+<p>The cuckoo was pleased with his success, but told them they must
+go to bed and to sleep, and he would fetch them in the morning to show
+them the way to the King of Silverland&rsquo;s court.</p>
+<p>Next morning, although he arrived quite early, the maidens were up
+and ready for him, looking very pretty in their yellow frocks.&nbsp;
+The kind people of the house were quite sorry to part with their guests
+and begged them to come again, and the daffodil maidens set off in high
+spirits, following the cuckoo as he flew slowly ahead across the sunlit
+meadows.&nbsp; About noon they came in sight of the king&rsquo;s court.&nbsp;
+The gorgeous tents were of cloth of silver fastened with silver ropes;
+fountains were playing in the open spaces, and flags flying everywhere.&nbsp;
+The daffodils attracted a great deal of attention as they made their
+way, blushing and a little frightened, through the crowds of soldiers,
+court ladies and attendants.&nbsp; At the door of the largest and most
+gorgeous tent stood three beautiful princes dressed in silver.</p>
+<p>When they saw the maidens approaching, hand in hand, they gave a
+cry of joy and ran forward to greet them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dear beautiful princesses,&rdquo; they cried, &ldquo;welcome
+to our court!&nbsp; May we ask your names and the country you come from?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The cuckoo, perched on a tent-pole hard by, answered for them.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;These are the Princesses Daffodil, daughters of the great King
+of Goldenland.&nbsp; They have come very many days&rsquo; journey to
+be present at your revels.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Think of the cuckoo telling such a dreadful story and those naughty
+daffodils not contradicting him!</p>
+<p>When the princes heard the cuckoo&rsquo;s words they were almost
+beside themselves with joy, for, as it happened, there was a real King
+of Goldenland (but the cuckoo did not know it), and he had three daughters
+of the same age whom the Silver princes were anxious to see.&nbsp; They
+dropped on one knee, kissed the maidens&rsquo; hands very prettily,
+and then led them, blushing and delighted, into the royal tent.</p>
+<p>The king was out, but the queen received the daffodils very graciously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Triplet,&rdquo; she said significantly, and it was the princes&rsquo;
+turn to blush.</p>
+<p>Then the young people visited all the beautiful tents, and the great
+ballroom where there was to be a ball that night, and the princes whispered
+to the maidens that they would dance with no one else.&nbsp; When they
+had tasted the cowslip wine from the fountains and eaten lots of wonderful
+sweets the daffodils declared they were quite tired; so the princes
+put them into hammocks with little monkeys to swing them, and the happy
+hours wore on until the evening.</p>
+<p>The maidens had had a beautiful tent assigned to them by the queen,
+and they found lovely dresses of cloth of gold with shoes and stockings
+to match, all ready for them.&nbsp; They looked so beautiful when they
+were dressed that the colour of their feet did not seem to matter at
+all.</p>
+<p>All that night they danced with the princes, and everyone was charmed
+with their beauty and grace, especially the king, who had not received
+a single answer to his advertisement.&nbsp; At the great banquet which
+followed the ball the betrothal of the Silver princes to the Golden
+princesses was solemnly announced, and their health drunk amid great
+rejoicing.</p>
+<p>The dawn was red in the east before the festivities were over, and
+the daffodils went to bed happier than they had ever been before, happier
+than they ever would be again.&nbsp; A new and awful trouble of which
+they had never dreamt was about to befall them.</p>
+<p>When the princes came to meet their betrothed next morning the maidens
+noticed that, although very affectionate, they were downcast and somewhat
+silent.&nbsp; At last, after a great deal of questioning, the reason
+came out.&nbsp; The king and queen had both had exactly the same curious
+dream, and this strange occurrence had upset their majesties very much.&nbsp;
+They both dreamt that one of the princesses, as they believed them to
+be, had six toes on each foot; and as no monstrosity could ever share
+the throne of Silverland they demanded to see the princesses&rsquo;
+little feet with their own eyes, so as to be quite sure they all had
+only the right number of toes.</p>
+<p>When the princes with many blushes broke this news to their lady-loves,
+they each gave a short loud scream and fainted.</p>
+<p>Their lovers, of course, put this down to extreme modesty, and were
+much affected by such proper conduct; but when they succeeded in restoring
+them to consciousness they were not a little disturbed to find that
+the maidens positively refused to show their feet.</p>
+<p>Imagine the grief of the poor princes!&nbsp; The king had said quite
+positively that not one of the princes should marry till he, the queen,
+and the councillors of the kingdom, had seen the bride&rsquo;s feet;
+and the maidens now declared that they would never never show them.</p>
+<p>Matters were in this awkward state when the cuckoo appeared on the
+scene.&nbsp; He had as usual contrived to find out what was going on,
+and now announced that he had a private message for the Golden princesses,
+if they would take him to their tent.</p>
+<p>When they were alone the daffodils began to cry their eyes out, and
+the cuckoo to try and comfort them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Green feet,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;are very uncommon and would
+no doubt be welcomed as a great rarity.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But the maidens sobbed on.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The princes love you so much they will think your little feet
+the most beautiful colour in the world.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But they would not listen.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I heard the king and queen say that green was their favourite
+colour,&rdquo; he remarked next.</p>
+<p>This was pure invention on the cuckoo&rsquo;s part, but the daffodils
+were somewhat cheered, and after a great deal of talking the cuckoo
+persuaded them to give in and consent to show their feet, as they could
+not possibly marry the princes without.&nbsp; Besides, perhaps when
+the king found their toes were all right he would think the colour rather
+ornamental than otherwise.&nbsp; So the princes were told to their great
+joy that the princesses had consented to show their feet; and the king
+and queen, on being informed, summoned a Cabinet Council for the next
+morning so that their ministers might be present at the counting of
+the princesses&rsquo; toes.</p>
+<p>Meantime the real Goldenland princesses had arrived near the camp;
+but as they and their suite were very tired they resolved not to visit
+the Silver king till the next day, and commanded that no one should
+mention their arrival.</p>
+<p>That night the daffodils never slept, for fear once more took possession
+of them.&nbsp; They scrubbed their feet, but the fairy&rsquo;s dye would
+not come off; then they scraped them, but that hurt very much and did
+no good.&nbsp; Finally they chalked them, but that was no use at all;
+so they had to give it up in despair, and hope for the best.</p>
+<p>Next morning two of the court ushers came to escort them to the Cabinet
+Council.&nbsp; Poor daffodils!&nbsp; Their eyes were red with weeping,
+and they could scarcely stand for terror when they entered the tent
+where the examination was to take place.</p>
+<p>In the middle on a raised dais sat the king and queen, on their right
+stood the three princes, on their left the councillors in their robes
+of state.&nbsp; Three chairs were placed for the maidens, and they were
+politely but firmly requested to take off their shoes and stockings.</p>
+<p>Blushing crimson the daffodils slowly and unwillingly took off their
+shoes.&nbsp; Then they cried a little and said they really truly couldn&rsquo;t,
+but it was no use, and the stockings had to follow, and six little green
+feet were exposed to view.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They wear two pairs, I see,&rdquo; said the queen, who was
+a little short-sighted.&nbsp; &ldquo;Very sensible, I&rsquo;m sure,
+in this damp place.&nbsp; Take off the other pair, my dears.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But the daffodils only hung their heads and wept.</p>
+<p>Then one of the councillors cried out, in a horrified tone - &ldquo;Their
+feet are green!&nbsp; They are monstrosities!&rdquo; and at that very
+moment heralds were heard outside announcing the arrival of the Princesses
+of Goldenland.</p>
+<p>Now the king was a shrewd old gentleman, and the true state of affairs
+suddenly flashed upon him.&nbsp; &ldquo;They are impostors!&rdquo; he
+cried, rising to his feet, &ldquo;turn the deceitful minxes out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At that the maidens rose and fled.&nbsp; They never stopped for shoes
+or stockings, but ran like hunted hares out of the tent across the fields;
+and when the people saw their little green feet a great shout of laughter
+went up, in which the king and the princes joined.&nbsp; As for the
+daffodils, they ran and ran and ran, not daring even to look behind
+them, till they suddenly stopped for want of breath; and where do you
+think they were?&nbsp; Why in their old home under the oak tree.&nbsp;
+Most of the daffodils had gone to sleep, but a few were left, and among
+them their little sister.&nbsp; At her side stood the fairy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, my dears, do you like being girls?&rdquo; and there
+was a twinkle in her eye as she spoke.</p>
+<p>But the daffodils were sobbing too bitterly to answer, and the fairy
+had a kind heart and did not press the question.&nbsp; &ldquo;Would
+you be content to be daffodils again?&rdquo; she asked, and smiled at
+them sweetly.</p>
+<p>They murmured a thankful &ldquo;Yes&rdquo;; the fairy waved her wand,
+and in a trice the maidens were gone and there were three more flowers,
+very pale faded ones, growing under the gnarled oak tree.&nbsp; Poor
+discontented daffodils!&nbsp; They had to pay a heavy price for their
+folly.</p>
+<p>The cuckoo came back time after time, and never wearied of teasing
+them; and their little sister made many very true but disagreeable remarks
+on the extreme silliness of being discontented with one&rsquo;s surroundings.</p>
+<p>Perhaps by next spring things may be better; but of this you may
+be quite sure, no amount of cuckoos will ever persuade the flowers in
+that nook to be anything but what nature intended them to be - sweet
+little daffodils.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>The Fairy Fluffikins</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>The Fairy Fluffikins lived in a warm woolly nest in a hole down an
+old oak tree.&nbsp; She was the sweetest, funniest little fairy you
+ever saw.&nbsp; She wore a little, soft, fluffy brown dress, and on
+her head a little red woolly cap; she had soft red hair and the brightest,
+naughtiest, merriest, sharpest brown eyes imaginable.</p>
+<p>What a life she led the animals!&nbsp; Fairy Fluffikins was a sad
+tease; she would creep into the nests where the fat baby dormice were
+asleep in bed while Mamma dormouse nodded over her knitting and Papa
+smoked his little acorn pipe; and she would tickle the babies till they
+screamed with laughter and nearly rolled out of bed, and Mamma scolded,
+and Papa said in a gruff voice - &ldquo;What a plague you are, you little
+dors; go to sleep this minute or I will fetch my big stick.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And then the babies would shake, for they were afraid of the big
+stick; and naughty Fairy Fluffikins would dance off to find some fresh
+piece of mischief.</p>
+<p>One night she had fine fun.&nbsp; She found a little dead mouse in
+a field; and at first she was sorry for the mouse, and thought she would
+bury it and plant a daisy on its grave; but then an idea struck her.&nbsp;
+She hunted about till she found a piece of long, strong grass, and then
+she took the little mouse, tied the piece of grass round its tail, and
+ran away with it to the big tree where the Ancient Owl lived.&nbsp;
+There was a little hole at the bottom of the tree and into it Fairy
+Fluffikins crept, leaving the mouse outside in the moonlight.&nbsp;
+Presently she heard a gruff voice in the tree saying -</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I smell mouse, I smell mouse.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then there was
+a swoop of wings, and Fairy Fluffikins promptly drew the mouse into
+the little hole and stuffed its tail into her mouth so that she might
+not be heard laughing; and the gruff voice said angrily -</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where&rsquo;s that mouse gone?&nbsp; I smelt mouse, I know
+I smelt mouse!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She grew tired of this game after a few times, so she left the mouse
+in the hole and crept away to a new one.&nbsp; She really was a naughty
+fairy.&nbsp; She blew on the buttercups so that they thought the morning
+breeze had come to wake them up, and opened their cups in a great hurry.&nbsp;
+She buzzed outside the clover and made it talk in its sleep, so that
+it said in a cross, sleepy voice - &ldquo;Go away, you stupid busy bee,
+and don&rsquo;t wake me up in the middle of the night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She pulled the tail of the nightingale who was singing to his lady-love
+in the hawthorn bush, and he lost his place in his song and nearly tumbled
+over backwards into the garden.&nbsp; Then to her joy she met an elderly,
+domestic puss taking an evening walk with a view to field-mice.</p>
+<p>Here was sport.&nbsp; Fluffikins hid in the grass and squeaked; and
+when the elderly cat came tearing up she pulled his whiskers and flew
+away (I forgot to tell you that she had little, soft wings), and the
+elderly cat jumped and said -</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mouse-traps and mince-meat!&nbsp; Fancy a cat of my age and
+experience taking a bat for a mouse!&nbsp; But by my claws I heard a
+mouse&rsquo;s squeak.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Fairy Fluffikins often met the poor elderly cat, and always led him
+some dreadful dance, now and then taking a ride on his back into the
+bargain, till he thought he must have got the nightmare.</p>
+<p>One day Fairy Fluffikins was well paid out for some of her naughtiness.&nbsp;
+She was flying away from a tree where she had just wrapped a sleeping
+bat&rsquo;s head up in a large cobweb, when she heard the sweep of wings,
+felt a sharp nip - and in less time than it takes to tell found herself
+in the nest of the Ancient Owl.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My wig!&rdquo; said the Ancient Owl, much surprised, &ldquo;I
+thought you were a bat.&rdquo;&nbsp; And he called his wife and three
+children to look.</p>
+<p>Now when Fairy Fluffikins saw five pairs of large round eyes blinking
+and staring at her she lost her head and cried out - &ldquo;Please,
+please, Mr Ancient Owl, don&rsquo;t be angry with me and I will never
+play tricks with mice any more,&rdquo; and so told the Ancient Owl what
+he had never even suspected before.</p>
+<p>Then the Ancient Owl was MOST DREADFULLY ANGRY and read Fairy Fluffikins
+a long sermon about the wickedness of deceiving Ancient Owls.&nbsp;
+The sermon took two hours and a half; and when it was over all the owls
+hooted at her and pecked her; and Fairy Fluffikins was very glad indeed
+when at last Mrs Ancient Owl gave her a push and said -</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go along, you impertinent brown minx,&rdquo; and she was able
+to go out into the night.</p>
+<p>Even this sad adventure did not cure Fairy Fluffikins of getting
+into mischief - although she never teased the owls any more, you may
+be sure of that - she took to tormenting the squirrels instead.&nbsp;
+She used to find their stores of nuts and carry them away and fill the
+holes with pebbles; and this, when you are a hard-working squirrel with
+a large family to support, is very trying to the temper.&nbsp; Then
+she would tie acorns to their tails; and she would clap her hands to
+frighten them, and pull the baby-squirrels&rsquo; ears; till at last
+they offered a reward to anyone who could catch Fairy Fluffikins and
+bring her to be punished.</p>
+<p>No one caught Fairy Fluffikins; but she caught herself, as you shall
+hear.</p>
+<p>She was poking about round a haystack one night, trying to find something
+naughty to do, when she came upon a sweet little house with pretty wire
+walls and a wooden door standing invitingly open.&nbsp; In hopped Fluffikins,
+thinking she was going to have some new kind of fun.&nbsp; There was
+a little white thing dangling from the roof, and she laid hold of it.&nbsp;
+Immediately there was a bang; the wooden door slammed; and Fluffikins
+was caught.</p>
+<p>How she cried and stamped and pushed at the door, and promised to
+be a good fairy and a great many other things!&nbsp; But all to no purpose:
+the door was tight shut, and Fluffikins was not like some fortunate
+fairies who can get out of anywhere.</p>
+<p>There she remained, and in the morning one of the labourers found
+her, and, thinking she was some kind of dormouse, he carried her home
+to his little girl; and if you call on Mary Ann Smith you will see Fairy
+Fluffikins there still in a little cage.&nbsp; They give her nuts and
+cheese and bread, and all the things she doesn&rsquo;t like, and there
+is no one to tease and no mischief to get into; so if there is a miserable
+little Fairy anywhere it is Fairy Fluffikins, and I&rsquo;m not sure
+it doesn&rsquo;t serve her quite right.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>The Story of the Tinkle-Tinkle.</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Once upon a time there lived a Tinkle-Tinkle.&nbsp; I cannot tell
+you what he was like, because no man knows, not even the Tinkle-Tinkle
+himself.&nbsp; Sometimes he lived on the ground, sometimes in a tree,
+sometimes in the water, sometimes in a cave; and I can&rsquo;t tell
+you what he lived on, for no man knows, not even the Tinkle-Tinkle himself.</p>
+<p>One day the Tinkle-Tinkle was going through a wood, when he heard
+a piteous weeping.&nbsp; He stopped, for he was a kindly Tinkle-Tinkle,
+and found two small dormice sobbing under a tree because they had been
+cruelly deserted by their parents.&nbsp; He wiped their eyes tenderly
+and took them to his cave home; but I cannot tell you how he went, for
+no man knows, not even the Tinkle-Tinkle.&nbsp; However, when he got
+there he put the dormice to bed in his grandmother&rsquo;s boots, for
+which he had never found any use before, and fed them on periwinkles
+and tea, and was very kind to them; and when they grew older he bought
+them caps and aprons, and they became the Tinkle-Tinkle&rsquo;s housemaid
+and parlourmaid.</p>
+<p>Now I must tell you that it was a great grief to the Tinkle-Tinkle
+not to know what he was, or how he lived, or where he was going to;
+and it often made him depressed, but he always concealed it from the
+dormice, appearing a most cheerful and contented creature.</p>
+<p>One day he found a poor green bird lying on the ground with its leg
+broken.&nbsp; Fortunately Tinkle-Tinkle had his grandmother&rsquo;s
+black silk reticule with him which had never been of any service to
+him before.&nbsp; He gently placed the green bird in the bottom and
+carried it to the cave.</p>
+<p>The dormice laid the poor sufferer on a soft bed and put the broken
+leg up carefully in plaster of Paris; and they nursed the green bird
+with the greatest attention so that it was soon well enough to hop about
+on crutches; and it sang so beautifully that all the inhabitants round
+gave it money, and its fame spread abroad; but it was so tenderly attached
+to the Tinkle-Tinkle and the dormice that it would not leave them.</p>
+<p>Now it happened on a certain evening that the Tinkle-Tinkle was travelling
+over the sea, when suddenly in the depths he caught sight of a most
+beautiful Creature.&nbsp; It was all sorts of colours - white, rosy
+pink, and deep crimson, and pale blue fading into white and gold.&nbsp;
+It had no face but a bright light; and it had quantities of beautiful
+iridescent wings, like the rainbow; and the most lovely voice you ever
+heard, like the sighing of the waves in the hollow of the sea.</p>
+<p>The Tinkle-Tinkle was so astonished and entranced that he stopped,
+and the beautiful Creature cried out to him, and its voice made Tinkle-Tinkle
+remember a dream he had once had of sunshine, and forest trees, and
+the song of birds; and the Creature said, &ldquo;Ah, Tinkle-Tinkle!
+you are lonely and perplexed and sad, and you do not know whence you
+came nor why you are here; but the dormice know and the green bird knows,
+and I know, and we are glad for your being.&nbsp; Go on, Tinkle-Tinkle,
+and do not sorrow, for some day you shall come back to me, and I will
+wrap you in my wings and take you where you belong, and then you will
+understand.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>When the Tinkle-Tinkle heard this he was glad with a new strange
+gladness, and he went back to his cave; but not alone, for the spirit
+of hope went with him.</p>
+<p>The Tinkle-Tinkle had one gift - he could sing - how, no man knew,
+not even the Tinkle-Tinkle himself; and this is how he discovered his
+gift.</p>
+<p>One day in a secluded spot in the forest he found a dying stag, and
+the Tinkle-Tinkle was moved with great compassion and yet could do nothing.</p>
+<p>The great stag&rsquo;s head drooped lower and lower till even the
+sun melted in a mist of pity, and the trees sighed, and the breezes
+hushed their voices.&nbsp; Then suddenly the Tinkle-Tinkle crept close
+and began to sing, why or how he knew not.&nbsp; As he sang, the birds
+and the stream were silenced and the breezes ceased, and the great stag&rsquo;s
+breathing grew less and less laboured, and his eyes brightened, and
+presently he rose slowly to his feet and paced away to join the rest
+of the herd, and the Tinkle-Tinkle went with him.</p>
+<p>When the stag&rsquo;s companions heard the story, they wept for all
+that had befallen their leader, but rejoiced also and blessed the Tinkle-Tinkle;
+and he sang once more for them, and the Star-spirits leaned out of their
+bright little windows to listen, and the night was glad.</p>
+<p>Many were the adventures of the Tinkle-Tinkle, and countless the
+creatures he cheered and helped, yet he never fancied himself any use
+or knew why he was in the world.&nbsp; He brought home a poor old crab
+without a claw, and the green bird and the dormice found a hook and
+screwed it in, and the poor old crab used to carry parcels for the neighbours;
+but he still lived with the Tinkle-Tinkle.</p>
+<p>Another time it was a snail with a broken shell; for him they built
+a beautiful little house, and he made little rush brooms and sold them
+to the passers-by; but he lived ever after close to the Tinkle-Tinkle&rsquo;s
+front door.</p>
+<p>So it went on till all the Tinkle-Tinkle&rsquo;s homes were full
+of strange occupants, and he began to feel very old and worn and weary.&nbsp;
+Then he remembered the promise of the beautiful Creature, and went slowly
+over the sea hoping the time had come for it to be fulfilled, and it
+had.&nbsp; The beautiful Creature stretched out its lovely rose and
+purple wings and wrapped the Tinkle-Tinkle in their warm soft greatness,
+and bore him down and down through the depths till they came to the
+Great Gate.&nbsp; At the beautiful Creature&rsquo;s voice it swung slowly
+back, and they passed down the Blue Pathway, which is all ice, cut and
+carved into lovely pinnacles and spires, very blue with the blue of
+the summer sky and the southern seas.&nbsp; The Tinkle-Tinkle could
+just see it from between the beautiful Creature&rsquo;s wings, stretching
+away in the blue distance, and at the end one star.</p>
+<p>Presently - and though the time had been one thousand years it had
+not seemed long to the Tinkle-Tinkle - they came out into a beautiful
+place that was nothing but light, and the beautiful Creature set the
+Tinkle-Tinkle down; he looked around him and saw many other Tinkle-Tinkles,
+and he knew them for what they were and loved their beauty; and the
+Creature gently swept one of its purple pinions across him, and the
+Tinkle-Tinkle took form.&nbsp; He had many, many little soft, strong
+hands and many little white feet, and long sweeping wings and a face
+which shone with something of the light of the beautiful Creature; and
+the Tinkle-Tinkle saw and understood and sang for joy.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<p>End of the Project Gutenberg eBook The Grey Brethren</p>
+<p>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE GREY BRETHREN ***</p>
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