Mopsa the Fairy.

by Jean Ingelow.

CHAPTER I.

ABOVE THE CLOUDS.

"And can this be my own world?

'Tis all gold and snow, Save where scarlet waves are hurled Down yon gulf below."

"'Tis thy world, 'tis my world, City, mead, and sh.o.r.e, For he that hath his own world Hath many worlds more."

A boy, whom I knew very well, was once going through a meadow, which was full of b.u.t.tercups. The nurse and his baby sister were with him; and when they got to an old hawthorn, which grew in the hedge and was covered with blossom, they all sat down in its shade, and the nurse took out three slices of plum-cake, gave one to each of the children, and kept one for herself.

While the boy was eating, he observed that this hedge was very high and thick, and that there was a great hollow in the trunk of the old thorn-tree, and he heard a twittering, as if there was a nest somewhere inside; so he thrust his head in, twisted himself round, and looked up.

It was a very great thorn-tree, and the hollow was so large that two or three boys could have stood upright in it; and when he got used to the dim light in that brown, still place, he saw that a good way above his head there was a nest,--rather a curious one, too, for it was as large as a pair of blackbirds would have built,--and yet it was made of fine white wool and delicate bits of moss; in short, it was like a goldfinch's nest magnified three times.

Just then he thought he heard some little voices cry, "Jack! Jack!"

His baby sister was asleep, and the nurse was reading a story-book, so it could not have been either of them who called. "I must get in here," said the boy. "I wish this hole was larger." So he began to wriggle and twist himself through, and just as he pulled in his last foot, he looked up, and three heads which had been peeping over the edge of the nest suddenly popped down again.

"Those heads had no beaks, I am sure," said Jack, and he stood on tiptoe and poked in one of his fingers. "And the things have no feathers," he continued; so, the hollow being rather rugged, he managed to climb up and look in.

His eyes were not used yet to the dim light; but he was sure those things were not birds,--no. He poked them, and they took no notice; but when he s.n.a.t.c.hed one of them out of the nest, it gave a loud squeak, and said, "O don't, Jack!" as plainly as possible, upon which he was so frightened that he lost his footing, dropped the thing, and slipped down himself. Luckily, he was not hurt, nor the thing either; he could see it quite plainly now: it was creeping about like rather an old baby, and had on a little frock and pinafore.

"It's a fairy!" exclaimed Jack to himself. "How curious! and this must be a fairy's nest. Oh, how angry the old mother will be if this little thing creeps away and gets out of the hole!" So he looked down. "Oh, the hole is on the other side," he said; and he turned round, but the hole was not on the other side; it was not on any side; it must have closed up all on a sudden, while he was looking into the nest, for, look whichever way he would, there was no hole at all, excepting a very little one high up over the nest, which let in a very small sunbeam.

Jack was very much astonished, but he went on eating his cake, and was so delighted to see the young fairy climb up the side of the hollow and scramble again into her nest, that he laughed heartily; upon which all the nestlings popped up their heads, and, showing their pretty white teeth, pointed at the slice of cake.

"Well," said Jack, "I may have to stay inside here for a long time, and I have nothing to eat but this cake; however, your mouths are very small, so you shall have a piece;" and he broke off a small piece, and put it into the nest, climbing up to see them eat it.

These young fairies were a long time dividing and munching the cake, and before they had finished, it began to be rather dark, for a black cloud came over and covered the little sunbeam. At the same time the wind rose, and rocked the boughs, and made the old tree creak and tremble. Then there was thunder and rain, and the little fairies were so frightened that they got out of the nest and crept into Jack's pockets. One got into each waistcoat pocket, and the other two were very comfortable, for he took out his handkerchief and made room for them in the pocket of his jacket.

It got darker and darker, till at last Jack could only just see the hole, and it seemed to be a very long way off. Every time he looked at it, it was farther off, and at last he saw a thin crescent moon shining through it.

"I am sure it cannot be night yet," he said; and he took out one of the fattest of the young fairies, and held it up towards the hole.

"Look at that," said he; "what is to be done now? the hole is so far off that it's night up there, and down here I haven't done eating my lunch."

"Well," answered the young fairy, "then why don't you whistle?"

Jack was surprised to hear her speak in this sensible manner, and in the light of the moon he looked at her very attentively.

"When first I saw you in the nest," said he, "you had a pinafore on, and now you have a smart little ap.r.o.n, with lace round it."

"That is because I am much older now," said the fairy; "we never take such a long time to grow up as you do."

"But your pinafore?" said Jack.

"Turned into an ap.r.o.n, of course," replied the fairy, "just as your velvet jacket will turn into a tail-coat when you are old enough."

"It won't," said Jack.

"Yes it will," answered the fairy, with an air of superior wisdom.

"Don't argue with me; I am older now than you are,--nearly grown up, in fact. Put me into your pocket again, and whistle as loudly as you can."

Jack laughed, put her in, and pulled out another. "Worse and worse,"

he said; "why, this was a boy fairy, and now he has a mustache and a sword, and looks as fierce as possible!"

"I think I heard my sister tell you to whistle?" said this fairy, very sternly.

"Yes, she did," said Jack. "Well, I suppose I had better do it." So he whistled very loudly indeed.

"Why did you leave off so soon?" said another of them, peeping out.

"Why, if you wish to know," answered Jack, "it was because I thought something took hold of my legs."

"Ridiculous child!" cried the last of the four, "how do you think you are ever to get out, if she doesn't take hold of your legs?"

Jack thought he would rather have done a long-division sum than have been obliged to whistle; but he could not help doing it when they told him, and he felt something take hold of his legs again, and then give him a jerk, which hoisted him on to its back, where he sat astride, and wondered whether the thing was a pony; but it was not, for he presently observed that it had a very slender neck, and then that it was covered with feathers. It was a large bird, and he presently found that they were rising towards the hole, which had become so very far off, and in a few minutes she dashed through the hole, with Jack on her back and all the fairies in his pockets.

It was so dark that he could see nothing, and he twined his arms round the bird's neck, to hold on, upon which this agreeable fowl told him not to be afraid, and said she hoped he was comfortable.

"I should be more comfortable," replied Jack, "if I knew how I could get home again. I don't wish to go home just yet, for I want to see where we are flying to, but papa and mamma will be frightened if I never do."

"Oh no," replied the albatross (for she was an albatross), "you need not be at all afraid about that. When boys go to Fairyland, their parents never are uneasy about them."

"Really?" exclaimed Jack.

"Quite true," replied the albatross.

"And so we are going to Fairyland?" exclaimed Jack; "how delightful!"

"Yes," said the albatross; "the back way, mind; we are only going the back way. You could go in two minutes by the usual route; but these young fairies want to go before they are summoned, and therefore you and I are taking them." And she continued to fly on in the dark sky for a very long time.

"They seem to be all fast asleep," said Jack.

"Perhaps they will sleep till we come to the wonderful river,"

replied the albatross; and just then she flew with a great b.u.mp against something that met her in the air.

"What craft is this that hangs out no light?" said a gruff voice.

"I might ask the same question of you," answered the albatross, sullenly.

"I'm only a poor Will-o'-the-wisp," replied the voice, "and you know very well that I have but a lantern to show." Thereupon a lantern became visible, and Jack saw by the light of it a man, who looked old and tired, and he was so transparent that you could see through him, lantern and all.

"I hope I have not hurt you, William," said the albatross; "I will light up immediately. Good-night."