"Mither," he whispered in his dreams, "my shoon are worn, and my feet bleed; but I'll soon creep hame, if I can. Keep the parritch warm for me."

Robin was as strong as a mountain-goat; and his strength was put to the task of threshing rye, grinding oats and corn, or drawing water from a brook.

Every night, troops of gay fairies and plodding brownies stole off on a visit to the upper world, leaving Robin and his companions in ever deeper despair. Poor Robin! he was fain to sing,--

"Oh that my father had ne'er on me smiled!

Oh that my mother had ne'er to me sung!

Oh that my cradle had never been rocked, But that I had died when I was young!"

Now, there was one good-natured brownie who pitied Robin. When he took a journey to earth with his fellow-brownies, he often threshed rye for the laddie's father, or churned b.u.t.ter in his good mother's dairy, unseen and unsuspected. If the little creature had been watched, and paid for these good offices, he would have left the farmhouse forever in sore displeasure.

To homesick Robin he brought news of the family who mourned him as dead. He stole a silky tress of Janet's fair hair, and wondered to see the boy weep over it; for brotherly affection is a sentiment which never yet penetrated the heart of a brownie. The dull little sprite would gladly have helped the poor lad to his freedom, but told him that only on one night of the year was there the least hope, and that was on Hallow-e'en, when the whole nation of fairies ride in procession through the streets of earth.

So Robin was instructed to spin a dream, which the kind brownie would hum in Janet's ear while she slept. By this means the la.s.sie would not only learn that her brother was in the power of the elves, but would also learn how to release him.

Accordingly, the night before Hallow-e'en, the bonnie Janet dreamed that the long-lost Robin was living in Elf-land, and that he was to pa.s.s through the streets with a cavalcade of fairies. But, alas! how should even a sister know him in the dim starlight, among the pa.s.sing troops of elfish and mortal riders? The dream a.s.sured her that she might let the first company go by, and the second; but Robin would be one of the third:--

"First let pa.s.s the black, Janet, And syne let pa.s.s the brown; But grip ye to the milk-white steed, And pull the rider down.

For _I_ ride on the milk-white steed, And aye nearest the town: Because I was a christened lad They gave me that renown.

My right hand will be gloved, Janet; My left hand will be bare; And these the tokens I give thee: No doubt I will be there.

They'll shape me in your arms, Janet, A toad, snake, and an eel But hold me fast, nor let me gang, As you do love me weel.

They'll shape me in your arms, Janet, A dove, bat, and a swan: Cast your green mantle over me, I'll be myself again."

The good sister Janet, far from remembering any of the old sins of her brother, wept for joy to know that he was yet among the living. She told no one of her strange dream; but hastened secretly to the Miles Cross, saw the strange cavalcade p.r.i.c.king through the greenwood, and pulled down the rider on the milk-white steed, holding him fast through all his changing shapes. But when she had thrown her green mantle over him, and clasped him in her arms as her own brother Robin, the angry voice of the fairy queen was heard:--

"Up then spake the queen of fairies, Out of a bush of rye, 'You've taken away the bonniest lad In all my companie.

'Had I but had the wit, yestreen, That I have learned to-day, I'd pinned the sister to her bed E're he'd been won away!'"

However, it was too late now. Wild Robin was safe, and the elves had lost their power over him forever. His forgiving parents and his leal-hearted brothers welcomed him home with more than the old love.

So grateful and happy was the poor laddie, that he nevermore grumbled at his oat-meal parritch, or minded his kye with a scowling brow.

But to the end of his days, when he heard mention of fairies and brownies, his mind wandered off in a mizmaze. He died in peace, and was buried on the banks of the Yarrow.

THE VESPER STAR.

Once upon a time, the new moon was shining like a silver bow in the heavens, and the stars glittered and trembled as if they were afraid.

"What frightens you?" said the placid Moon; "be calm, like me."

"I am freezing," answered the North Star; "that is why I shake."

"We are dancing," said the Seven Sisters; "and, watch as closely as you please, you can never get a fair peep at our golden sandals, our feet twinkle so."

"I am sleepy," grumbled the Great Bear; "I am trying to keep my eyes open. Perhaps that is the reason I wink so much."

Thus, with one accord, they made excuses to the pale Moon, who is their guardian,--all but the sweet Vesper Star: she was silent; and when a white cloud floated by, she was glad of an excuse to hide her face.

"Let the North Star shiver, and the Seven Sisters dance, and all the golden stars hold a revel," thought she; "as for me, I am sad."

For you must know that the Vesper Star has a task to perform, and is not allowed to sleep. She keeps vigil over the Earth, by night; and never ceases her watch till the world is up in the morning. For the sick and sad, who cannot sleep, she feels an unutterable pity, so that her heart is always throbbing with sorrow.

The Moon looked at the Vesper Star, and said, "Dream on, sweet sister; for you, the n.o.blest of all, have told me no falsehood."

This the Moon said because she knew that none of the stars had given a true reason for twinkling so gayly that night. The truth was, they were filled with envy, and were trying to be as brilliant as possible, to compete with a flaming Comet which had just appeared in the sky.

It is not for man to know how long and how peacefully the gentle stars had travelled together, doing the work which G.o.d has appointed, without a murmur. But now that this distinguished stranger had arrived, the whole firmament was in dismay. How proudly he strode the heavens! how his blaze illumined the sky! The Stars whispered one to another, and cast angry eyes on the shining wonder.

"Make way for me," he said, sweeping after him a glorious train of light.

"Not I," muttered the fiery Mars.

"Not I," quoth the majestic Jupiter; "I do not move an inch."

The Comet flashed with a lofty disdain.

"Puny Stars," said he, "keep your places, give out all your light,--n.o.body heeds you; the place of honor is always by the Vesper Star; here I make my throne."

The Vesper Star smiled sadly, but without a twinge of envy.

"Welcome, shining one! Warm me with your fires; let us work together."

"Work!" cried the Comet, throwing out sparkles of scorn; "I was not born to work, but to _shine_!"

"Indeed!" said the Vesper Star; "you have come into strange company, then; for here we all work with a good will." "He does not burn with the true fire," thought the good Star; and she wrapped herself about with a soft cloud, and said no more.

"Oh that I could be set on fire like the Comet!" thought the cold North Star. "I would gladly burn to death if I could astonish the world with my blaze!"

"Let us die!" said the Seven Sisters; "let us die together; we have ceased to be noticed."

"Ah, hum!" growled the Great Bear; "so many years as I have kept watch in this sky; and now to be set one side by this upstart of a foreigner! I've a great mind to go to sleep and never wake up!"

"Hush!" whispered the Vesper Star gently; "do your duty, and trust G.o.d for the rest."

And lo! that very night there was an end of the Comet's splendor.

"Adieu, my dull friends," said he; "I am tired of a quiet life: a little more, and I should fade out entirely!"

Then, with a blaze and a whiz, and a dizzy wheel, he flashed out of the sky; and no one knew whither he went, or whence he came, any more than the path of the quick lightning.