We humans have free will, but the nature spirits’ work is instinctual, and they joyously obey the Divine Intention. That is why they are nearly always seen to be smiling. In some of the little elves, pixies, and manikins this happiness is shown by a wide “grin,” but in the higher types it is a smile of radiant joy and exaltation, which they can in some measure impart to the fortunate onlooker. It is interesting to note that a similar expression of bliss appears on the face of a meditating yogi when he reaches the state of union with God.
One of the loveliest sights is that of a flower fairy tending her plant. She rises above it to absorb the vital universal energy from the atmosphere about and, after pausing to assimilate it, she sinks back and pours it, together with her own life-force, into the plant, causing its etheric double to glow as it imbibes the power. During this oft-repeated three-fold process, the face of the fairy-guardian is full of ecstasy.
When the nature spirits wish to materialize at the physical-etheric level, in order to be seen more clearly by each other and by certain human beings, they can slow down the rate of their vibrations so that they are on a different wavelength, and when they want to vanish they increase the vibrations again, and so disappear from human sight into a higher dimension. (What a pity that all exploited birds and animals cannot do likewise when faced with their human persecutors.)
The fairies are not the only ones who are able to do this, however, for there are certain highly evolved people such as Masters and Adepts working for the good of the world, who have such a great expansion of consciousness that the vibratory rate of their atoms can be raised at will to dematerialize their earthly bodies and work among us unseen, or lowered to re-materialize them when physical contact is necessary.
Certain people refuse to believe in fairies because they remain invisible to them, so they think they must be figments of the seer’s imagination. But in reality we ourselves are invisible Spirit, only seen by each other because we are materialized and individualized in a temporary physical body, in order to function on the Earth plane for a while. Our eyes can take in only a limited number of vibrations, so there must be countless beings around us who are invisible to us because they are on different wavelengths, and that might apply to some of the inhabitants of other planets, for they could possess bodies more ethereal than ours, and they might absorb their nourishment from the atmosphere or produce etheric food, like the fairies do. Humans and non-humans, we are all just different expressions of the one all-pervading Life.
It is said that cynics and sceptics do not like to believe in anything until they have proof, while others are content to remain unbiased until it is disproven. I hope my readers will keep an open mind, and then they might experience some of the fairies’ radiant carefree joy, and perhaps regain that sense of wonder that is sadly lacking in the lives of so many people in the world today.
Chapter 1: Nature Spirits in Gardens and the Countryside
In the summer of 1955, Mrs. Beverley C. Milligan, an Australian living in Scotland, went picnicking with her Scottish husband on the slopes above Loch Duich. The time was about 2 p.m., and after the meal they were lying quietly in the sun in a grassy space among the bracken and heather, when Mrs. Milligan became aware of a movement at the corner of the clearing. Gently she drew her husband’s attention to two small figures that had emerged from the bracken and were crossing the clear space towards a further stretch of bracken. Both of the wee folks were dressed in greenish breeches and short coats of a heathery shade. They were hatless, and one was darker than the other. They also varied in height, one being about ten inches high and the other two inches shorter. Between them they were carrying a bundle, which seemed to be very heavy, though they made no sound. Mr. and Mrs. Milligan were astounded and could hardly believe their eyes. They rose and walked in the direction in which the tiny pair had gone, and were lucky enough to catch another glimpse of them just going into a hazel thicket a few yards away. Needless to say, when this experience was recounted in the days that followed, it received little credence, but as Mrs. Milligan so wisely said: “It seems quite clear that when folklore the world over is so full of fairy beliefs, there must be some factual foundation for it all.”
Her 92-year-old grandmother, who was of Danish birth, was brought up in the Queensland outback in pioneering days, and often she would tell her and the other grandchildren how she had, on a few occasions, watched the little people in lonely places in the Bush, when she herself was young. She was most emphatic about it when her grandchildren treated her story as a joke, and she described these fairies as tiny brown people wearing scanty clothes, like loincloths, the fairy women wearing the same kind of clothing as the men. She had seen them by a creek, drawing water in what appeared to be small earthenware pots. She had also watched them seemingly at play, and again when they were dancing.
On the cold, clear, moonlit night of 24 December 1953, at about 11:35 p.m., Mr. G. was walking up a road in Ewell, Surrey, in company with two friends, Mr. C. and Mr. F., when a small misshapen figure about five feet in height ran across the road in front of them. “The face could not be discerned, but one gained the impression of sharp features. The clothing was undoubtedly bottle green, and a conical hat was worn, with an edging of fur. Knee-boots completed the rig.” This dwarf, or gnome, never reached the other side of the road, but disappeared about two feet from the opposite kerb. “Unfortunately,” said Mr. G., “Mr. F. maintains to this day that he heard and saw absolutely nothing. Mr. C., however, corroborates my story. We are all, without exception, teetotallers.”
One hears many stories of thorn trees that are held sacred by the fairies. Here is an account from Mrs. E. C. Thomson, of Sydney, New South Wales, Australia: “When I was about twelve years old I went from my Scottish home in Peebles to spend a holiday in Ireland as the guest of my mother’s cousin. She was married to the Rev. Joseph Moorhead, whose home was at a Manse near Ballymena, Co. Antrim. The grounds around the Manse were quite extensive, and my host told me that under a hawthorn tree on the way down to a stream, which ran past one side of the grounds, the fairies sometimes played, and he would like me to see them. ‘We must choose a moonlit night and the grass must be dry,’ he said. On three nights he took me to the place, but the grass was damp and we saw nothing. On the fourth night, however, things were ideal, and a very excited little girl saw about twenty fairies dancing under a white hawthorn tree. It was one of the prettiest sights I have ever seen, and I have never forgotten it.”
Another contributor who was privileged to see a similar sight was Mrs. Andrew Crawford Fields, of Co. Derry, Ireland. She remembered that when she was ten years old she was standing on the side of an old fort called Lemon’s Rock, near Newtownstewart, Co. Tyrone, and looking down into an adjoining field in which was a fairy thorn. It was about 8 o’clock on a bright evening in July, and as she stood gazing she saw a number of little folk dancing in a circle around the tree. They were dressed in different colours, and she watched them and heard the sound of singing and sweet music for about fifteen minutes, until a horse and cart came along the road at the top of the rocks, and the little folk disappeared. The fairy thorn was noted for having a brown ring around it on which the grass never grew. “And,” said Mrs. Fields, “we were warned as children not to go inside this ring lest the little folk should take us. The Lemon family saw them dancing many times, but I saw them only on this occasion.”
Mrs. Ada F. Constable used to live in a small bungalow alone in a field, some distance from the village of Walesby, Notts. One day her small son, aged three or four years, was looking out of the window on to the garden, appearing to watch something very intently, so she said “What are you looking at?” And he replied, “The funny little man.” She asked what he was like, and her son gave her a fair description of what she associated with a dwarf or gnome, wearing a long, pointed cap with the point tapering towards the front. On her asking what he was doing, she was told with no surprise or excitement: “He’s working in the beans, Mummy.�
��
Four men, who wished their names and addresses to be withheld, thought they saw some wee folk near a large drain in Lincolnshire. The time was early evening and the sun was setting and casting reflections in the water, which at that period of the year was high and reached the top of the long grass at the sides. This made them wonder whether they were the victims of an optical illusion, the only repudiation being that not only one but all four of them were able to observe these creatures, whose clothes were of various colours: red jerkins and green breeches, yellow jerkins and mauve breeches. In height they were approximately nine inches, and both bodily and facially bore resemblance to humans. On seeing the four men, who were traversing the path near the water’s edge, the little people darted into a nearby mustard-field.
The next account: “We were spending our summer holiday at the beautiful little fishing village of St. Ives,” related the Misses O. and N. Burnet. “It was a lovely summer. The weather was perfect; and, amongst other things, we had been revelling in the rugged beauty of the Cornish coast and the heather-clad moors. We decided that on the night of the full moon we would make up a party and drive by car along the moorland road to Lands End, there to partake of an al fresco meal on the rocks by moonlight. The day arrived, and we packed our hampers into the cars that were to take us along the coastal road to our destination, and set off. After a very short time we found ourselves right out on the moors. Not a sound was to be heard but the purr of the car engines. The moon lit up the road ahead of us like a white ribbon, and below us on the right lay the sea, sparkling in the bay. We had our meal and were returning along this same road, the silence still unbroken save for the snap of a twig as a wild moorland sheep or other animal scuttled out of the way, when suddenly across the track shuffled a small figure which stopped short, dazzled by the headlights of the car. My brother put on his brakes and drew the car to an abrupt standstill, and so did the driver of the car following, which was about to pass us. The figure resembled that of a little man barely two and a half feet high. He had a hairy face and very long arms, but the most striking thing about him was his very long, pointed feet, upon which he moved in a sort of shuffling manner. He wore on his head a hat of the same shape and shade as a mushroom, and his clothing, to which we did not pay much attention, was, as far as I can remember, of a darker shade of brown, and green. With terrified eyes, which shone in the light of the headlamps, he blinked and hesitated for a second or two, and, just as quickly and silently as he had appeared, he was gone. The two men in the car behind us got out, for they too had seen this strange figure for a fleeting second or two. We all looked over the low stone wall that bordered the moorland road, but there was no sign of him.”
Mr. John Neary, of Houghton-le-Spring, County Durham, saw fairies on two occasions, but the second experience, which he had in 1954, was clearer in his memory. He was sitting in a wood on a hot day in July, reading some of Keats’ poems, in preparation for a public examination, and had just reached the second verse of the Ode to Autumn, when his attention was distracted by a light movement in a clump of bluebells. At first he thought it was a bird, but on looking again he saw that it was a fairy of indescribable beauty and lace-like delicacy. When he discussed this apparition with members of his family, they were sceptical, with the exception of his father, an Irishman, who affirmed that all his family had at one time or another seen leprechauns.
“We thought you might be interested to hear of an experience of ours,” wrote Mr. J. L. Presland. “In August 1954, Mr. A. Malone and I were walking in the countryside near Caterham, Surrey, and presently we sat down under a tree for a smoke. We had been there some time, when suddenly I noticed a small head peering round the trunk of the tree. I gazed at it in amazement, but it disappeared before I could draw Mr. Malone’s attention to it. We went to look round the other side of the tree, though my friend was laughing derisively. As there was no trace of it, I decided I must have imagined it, but as soon as we began to walk on, both of us saw a small figure dart out of a bush, run about ten yards, and then disappear into another bush. In size it was about nine inches high, with a body well-proportioned except for the head, which seemed too small and bore very little hair. It had a brownish-coloured skin, and did not appear to be wearing any clothes. We made a thorough search of the bush into which the creature had disappeared, and also an area round it, but we found nothing. We could not say definitely whether it was a fairy, for it had no wings, but we do not see what else it could have been. We are, however, quite certain that we saw it.”
At their grandmother’s house in West Sussex, Michal (later to become Mrs. Johnstone) and her twin sister, Peggie, saw a tiny figure appear for a few seconds beside them on the lawn. “We were agreed,” she said, “that it was a female fairy. Our impression of her colouring was of a delicate blue surrounded by ‘tinker-bell’ light, and glowing like a little star in the evening shadows.” The twins were only about six at the time, but when Mrs. Johnstone wrote in 1955 she declared that although sixteen years had elapsed, the vivid picture of that experience still remained with her and her sister, and they both could give an identical description of what they had seen.
The first gnome that Mrs. L. F. Small, of Nottingham, saw was in Epsom Forest, off Friday Street. There was a dirty bit of rope round the bottom of a tree, and the little gnome was standing looking at it with an expression of extreme annoyance on his face. She received the impression it was his tree, and that he very much resented the rope being there. When Mrs. Small lived in Richmond Drive, she had some pink dwarf Canterbury bells on the rockery in her garden. One day she saw a lovely gossamer-winged fairy with the sweetest little hands, gently tending these plants. Her next experience was in 1940. She was sitting by her French window, which overlooked the garden where she had some outdoor tomato plants. She was not used to growing these, and the main shoots had been taken off in mistake for the side-shoots. As she sat looking out, she became aware of two little gnomes about one foot high, standing pointing to where the first crop of tomatoes should be. In their green and brown tunics, they blended so perfectly with the green plants and the brown wall in the background that they may have been there for some time before she noticed them. Their faces were puckered and they looked so distressed that she sent out thoughts of apology for damaging the plants, and they turned and looked at her very solemnly and then disappeared. A short time afterwards, when she was busy mending in her room, she became conscious of somebody at her feet, and on looking down she saw the same two little gnomes, holding between them a queer, flat basket of green tomatoes. They kept looking at her very seriously, and then at the tomatoes, and she felt they were trying to tell her something. She opened her mind to receive their message, which was to the effect that if she gathered the tomatoes at once, while they were green, and wrapped them up and put them in a dark place to ripen, she would still have a good crop. When they realised she understood them, they walked solemnly away.
Miss Mary Brameld told me that she and her sister Elizabeth often sensed the little folk when they visited the country, and on different occasions she had seen a gnome standing by her side, sometimes with a rake in his hands, and always smiling. She saw him “only in a flash,” so never had a chance to observe all the details of his clothes. She knew he wore a pointed cap, a little jacket and trousers, and that the colours were red and green, but she wasn’t sure whether the cap and jacket were red and the trousers green, or vice versa.
The next account came from Mrs. Carolyn E. Penny of Sholing, Southampton, who described herself as “a housewife with seven people to care for, so naturally not given to much dreaming.” She was washing-up after lunch, looking straight through the window in front of her, when, in the sunlight, which was slanting between her house and the next, she saw a fairy flying slowly in an upright position, her wings working from back to front in a slow opening and shutting movement, as those of a butterfly do when it is sunning itself. Every forward movement hid her face from view. Her little hands were cross
ed and lying on her dress, which was knee-length and of a sparkling gauze-like material. Her wings were coloured in pastel shades, as also were her shoes. Her tiny feet “moved in a sort of walking way,” and she looked like a very large fuchsia-flower travelling along.
Mrs. Penny was startled, and called to her children: “Quickly to the front door—here’s a fairy.” They all rushed out, and of course the fairy was nowhere to be seen. “I was told it was not April the first,” she said. But in spite of being teased by her family, Mrs. Penny maintained that it was not a dragonfly, a butterfly, or a bird that she saw. She knew that she really had seen a fairy and would believe in fairies until her dying day.
A civil servant in South Africa, Mr. Leslie Spence said he thought he must have possessed some psychic faculty in his early childhood, as he had a distinct recollection of seeing a group of some half-dozen little men, clad in brown tights and jerkins and wearing brown hats, doing a stiff-legged dance around a hummock of earth: “I was with some adult (probably my father) at the time, but he did not seem to see the little men, and I was too young to be able to tell him about them. I was not too happy about my safety, and I held tightly on to his hand and urged him to move on.”
Miss Ann R. Boote, of Cheshire, wrote that she had seen fairies of all descriptions in natural surroundings and had watched them working on the flowers and trees in her garden. From her own experience she found that the fairies appear to those who give out a sympathetic vibration, and from this they seem to build up their form, which they are able to vary at will. Their general appearance, she said, “can change in colour and shape in just a ‘blink of the eye’.” She confirmed the opinion of many seers, that fairies are best seen in bright sunlight, when their actions become stronger and their appearance clearer.
Seeing Fairies Page 4
