to yoursnug bed and let him sleep there, and it will be to him what a stateapartment in Windsor Castle would be to you. Do not then let you andme scold too much at Julia, but let us keep on the watch to drive awayfrom ourselves the discontented grumbling thoughts that are apt tomake us all ungrateful to God. Julia did not sleep well. The fillagreebox was a fort of night-mare to her. She dreamt of its growing up intoa great giant, and thumping her on the head, and calling out that sheought to be ashamed of herself. Do you know, I think this dream wasowing to her Godmother, Euphrosyne, for she lingered behind the otherFairies as they vanished, and shook, not waved, her wand over thesleeping child, with a very angry face.
In the morning Julia, like Aurora, awoke in a temporary forgetfulnessof her troubles. The morning air is so refreshing and sleep does oneso much good, and the sun shining through the windows looks so gay,and all things speak of hope so loudly in a morning, who can besullen? Certainly not little girls full of life and expectation. Butthe thought of the fillagree box by degrees took possession of hermind and rankled there as before. She too had a Governess, and manylessons to learn and much to do, and she did them; but neither Englishhistory nor French fairy tales could quite drive away the fillagreebox. Indeed it introduced its horrid face before her into the midst ofa multiplication sum, and Mademoiselle thought she was bewitched tohave grown so stupid over her arithmetic all at once. She spent a halfhour over that one sum, and when it was done she was so much tired shegave up lessons for the day. Besides, she had to prepare for herfriends. She went into her boudoir, opened her cabinets and unfoldedher treasures of various sorts--oh I can't tell you what beautifulthings! besides interesting collections of foreign and English shells,and stuffed humming birds, which you and I should be charmed topossess. And Julia was in general most happy when she was lookingover her property, but rather more because she possessed valuablecuriosities than because she cared about them, I fear. For my part,I wonder very much that the humming birds and shells did not teachher to be more humble-minded; for no art or jewellery can imitate orcome up to their glorious beauty. Well, she amused herself tolerablyin spite of the visions of the fillagree box and the queen's hair,which now and then came between her and her usual feeling ofself-satisfaction.
Presently her young friends came--several little girls of variousages, and now nature once more revived in poor Julia. The childrenfelt and expressed such hearty pleasure at the sight of her treasures.There were such joyous exclamations; such bursts of delight; suchspringing and jumping about, that Julia became infected with thegeneral pleasure, and was a happy child herself. Yes! even though thefillagree box had been shown off and admired. But what do children ingeneral know about the _value_ of things and how much they cost? Ah,much more just in their judgments than we elders are apt to be, a birdof Paradise such as adorned the top of Julia's cabinet, or a peacock'stail, such as she had in a drawer, is to their unprejudiced eyes moredesirable than the gold of Ophir itself!
So now you see this triumph of simplicity over art, despoiled thefillagree box of all its horrors, for the innocent children admiredher shells yet more--unsophisticated, and insensible to the long storyabout the value of the rubies, the maid of honour, and even thequeen's hairs.
Still the Fairies felt and saw that it was not Euphrosyne's gift, butrather the forgetfulness of it which caused these hours of happinessto Julia, and somewhat puzzled as to the result they left the votaryof riches, not quite without a sensation that little Aglaia's proposalof moderate health and enough riches to be "comfortable without beingpuzzled," was about the best thing after all, though not much of aFairy gift. And now, my little readers, I am beginning to get rathertired of my story, and to feel that you may do so too. I think I amgetting rather prosy, so I must try and cut the matter short. Four outof the five Fairy gifts were like beauty and riches, worldlyadvantages. For instance, there was the little girl who was to haveevery earthly pleasure at her feet--i.e. she was to have every thingshe wished for--why she was fifty times worse off than either Auroraor Julia, for I will tell you whom she was like. She was like thefisherman's wife in Grimm's German popular fairy tales, who had everything she wished, and so at last wished to be king of the sun andmoon. I doubt not you remember her well, and how she was inconsequence sent back to her mud cottage. I think, therefore, I neednot describe the young lady who had _that_ Fairy gift.
There was another who was to be _loved_ wherever she went; but nothingis worth having that is had so easily, and this child got so sick ofbeing kissed and fondled and loved, that it was the greatest nuisanceto her possible, for disagreeable people loved her just as much asnice ones, and for her part she hated them all alike. It was a verysilly Fairy gift.
Come with me then to Ambrosia's God-daughter, whom they visited last,and whose Fairy gift the other Fairies were to guess at!
Neither you nor I, my dears, ever heard a fairy-laugh. Doubtless it isa sweet and musical sound. You can perhaps fancy it? Well then, dofancy it, and how it rang in silver peals when our fairy friends, onentering the last nursery they had to visit, found Ambrosia's protegeein a flood of angry tears, stamping her foot on the ground in apassion! "You naughty naughty girl!" exclaimed the old Nurse, "you'llwake the baby and make your own eyes so red you won't be fit to beseen to night by the company!"
"I don't care about my eyes being red, tho' I don't want to wake thepoor baby," sobbed the little girl, slightly softening her wrath: "butthe cat has unravelled all the stocking I have been knitting at for somany days, and I had nearly just finished it, and now it's allspoilt;" and she roared with vexation. "Miss Hermione, if you go on soI shall certainly send for your Mamma, and the baby will be quitepoorly, he will! and we shall know who made him so," added Nursetriumphantly. "I can't make the baby poorly with crying, Nurse, sothat's nonsense you know," observed Hermione; "but I didn't mean todisturb him; only my stocking is gone, and I don't know what to do."And here she sobbed afresh.
"Do! why ain't you going down to the ladies, and can't you be brushingyour hair and washing your face and getting ready?" "But it isn'ttime." "Well, but can't you get ready _before_ the time a little? andthen, when you're dressed and look so clean and nice and pretty, youcan sit in the chair and we can look at you!" and here the good oldNurse gave a knowing smile and nodded her head.
Hermione caught sight of the comical coaxing glance, and, in spite ofher misfortune, burst into a fit of laughter. "Hum, hum, hum! nowyou'll wake the poor thing by laughing, Miss Hermione. I do wish you'dbe quiet:" and here the Nurse rocked the child on her knee morevigorously than ever.
"Then why don't you tell me what I am to do with my stocking," criedHermione. "Oh well, I know what I will do--something quite as quiet asa mouse. I will wind up my poor worsted." Hereupon the little girlpicked up the puckered remains of her luckless grey stocking which afacetious young cat had spent at least a quarter of an hour iningeniously unravelling with his claws. It was a tiresome tedious jobwe must admit, and required a strong effort of patient perseverance,but Hermione soon became engrossed in its difficulties and a deadsilence ensued. At last Nurse who had while rocking the sleeping babyon her knee, been watching the child's proceedings, suddenlyexclaimed, "Well to be sure, Miss Hermione, you have such patience asI never before did see."
[The Fairies exchanged glances.
"It is _Patience_, Ambrosia."
"What a hurry you are in!" was the reply.]
"No I haven't, Nurse, indeed," answered Hermione. "I had no patienceat all when I was in a passion with the cat just now."
"Well, I suppose there are two or three sorts of Patiences, Miss,then," persisted Nurse, "for I'm certain you have _some_ sorts. But,dear me, its ever so much past six o'clock, and you have to be dressedby half-past. Do put away the worsted and get yourself ready, Miss,and call Jane to help you."
Here the Nurse and Hermione nearly had a scuffle over the worsted.Hermione declared the cat had spoilt her stocking; and the onlycomfort left to her now was to roll it comfortably up into a ball.Nurse on the contrary ins
isted that it didn't signify a bit whatbecame of the worsted; she must dress and go down. The dispute endedby Hermione running off with the half finished ball and its untidyremains, and cramming the whole concern into the pocket of her bestfrock. "The people will soon be tired of talking to me," muttered sheto herself, "and then I can finish my ball quietly in the cornerbehind Mamma's chair."
The thought of this ingenious plan for her private amusement downstairs so tickled Hermione's fancy that she was on the giggle thewhole time she was being dressed. "If Nurse did but know what was inthe pocket of my best frock and how fat it is! how she would scold,and what a
The Fairy Godmothers and Other Tales Page 5
