The Forest Fairy

Some people think that there are no Fairies nowadays. There are so many large towns ‘full of dust and smoke, and so many railroads, on which trains run snorting and screaming through the pretty, lonely country-places, where the Fai ries used to be found, that a great many people fancy these things have quite driven the Fairies out of England, and that we must cross the seas, and go to distant countries, if we want to see or hear any more of the dear little creatures. But indeed this is not the case. It is not so easy to get rid of the Fairies. Even in the dark, dull towns, there are gleams of Fairy brightness to be seen sometimes, and scenes of Fairy-land float before the eyes of many a child whose heart is light and whose spirit is pure ; and the Fairies come in dreams, and take it away to dance and play with them for a while, and forget the toils and hardships of its every-day life.

Aye, and even when the railway-train whistles and screeches through the woods where the Fairies used to hold their midnight meetings, and over the soft meadows where they danced so often in the Fairy-ring, it can not drive the little Elves away for good and all. They stop their ears sometimes, and go farther away from the harsh, screeching sound, but they do not quite desert the place ; and they never will desert dear old England, as long as there are warm and tender hearts to love their kind ways, and eager little ears to hear all the pretty stories of which Fairy-land is full, and which help to make it so pleasant. But there was no big town and no railroad in that part of the country where dwelt the Fairy of whom I am going to tell you.

There was a large wood, full of very tall trees, so thickwith their beautiful foliage that the rays of the sun could scarcely force their way through in the brightest summer day ; but underneath the boughs it was right pleasant to walk, for there you found beautiful shade, and the mossy turf beneath your feet was soft as velvet. And when the calm pale moon shed her mild rays over the earth, peeping in through the thick foliage, she gave a quiet, holy light to the wood here and there, and you felt as if you were in some sacred spot, where you were only inclined to speak in whis pering tones, lest you should disturb the solemn silence of the place. One tree-much larger than most of its companions— stood in the middle of the wood. It was very old, but yet it was not quite hollow, for its wood was stout and tough. ‘Its great roots ran out on all sides of it, and you could not look upon itwithout confessing at once that itwas aRoyal tree. And in the crown of this tree dwelt the loveliest little Fairy that any one ever set eyes upon. She was about seven inches high, of perfect face and form, and with a queenly look about her which inspired respect, just as her beauty and sweet manners compelled people to love the very sight of her. But that forest was her kingdom, and that tree was her palace; and she wore the lightest, prettiest dress you can imagine. Madame Elise never turned out a dress so ele gant and lovely—and that is saying a great deal, because every body knows that Madame Elise is almost a Fairy her self in the way she produces beautiful dresses! But noth ing could equal my Fairy: and, moreover, she was as kind at heart as she was beautiful. Her great pleasure was to do good wherever she could. If any of the animals in the forest were hurt, they would often come moaning up to the tree, and seldom indeed was it that they did not receive as sistance ; and many of the poor people who lived near that forest had felt the kindness of the Fairy, and had had pieces of good luck happen to them, which you may be very sure were all of her doing. She usually drove about the forest in a little wicker car riage, drawn by six squirrels ; and it was the prettiest sight imaginable to see her drive the dear little creatures, well broken-in as they were, and dart about through the trees in the most graceful manner possible. This was her favorite conveyance; but sometimes she would ride about on the back of a squirrel or a rabbit, and now and then took a flight on a Wood-pigeon; for she was not at all a stay-at home Fairy, but loved to roam about the country, and see what there was to be seen.

Now it happened that at no great distance from the for est lived an old man, in a small cottage which was still older than himself, and was therefore in a sad state of de cay. This old man was by trade a fagot-seller, for he had the right of cutting wood in the forest ; and he used to cut fagots and sell them to the people around, by which means he earned enough to keep the pot boiling. His only companion was his little granddaughter, who was every thing in the world to him, for he had no other relation or friend. She was as good a little girl as you will find anywhere, and very fond of her old grandfather, who, on his side, was tenderly attached to her. Every morning she would be up early enough to light the fire and get his bit of breakfast ready for him before he went out to his work; and when he was gone, she would sweep the room and put the place tidy; and then, when she had finished, it was time to get his dinner ready, and she would prepare it very carefully, and then take it out to him in the forest in a little basket; and right glad was the old man to see his little Lilian (for so was the child called) coming along under the shady trees.  He would listen to her pretty prattle while he ate his din net; and often she would bring her knitting out, and sit there, in the fine summer afternoons, until he had finished his work and they could walk home together.

It was a pretty sight to see the old man and the young child walking hand-in-hand, her large loving blue eyes turned up to his old, weather-beaten face, and her little tongue asking him questions about the forest, and the big world beyond it, of which he knew but little more than she did; for the old man had passed nearly all his life in the cottage where he lived, and the little he knew of the wide world was gathered from conversations now and then with neighbors as poor as himself, but who had been tempted, from time to time, to roam farther from home.

Very happily and very contentedly did Lilian and her grandfather live for some time, till she grew to be about eleven years old, and the old man’s strength began to fail. He could no longer do such a long day’s work as he used to do, and seemed to get more tired of an evening, and less and less inclined to get up early in the morning. But worse than that—for troubles seldom come alone—he could no longer sell his fagots so easily as in the old days. People had taken more and more to burning coal, and he had to go far and wide to gather the few pence which his fagots would bring him. No other occupation could he get ; and all this time the old cottage got worse and worse. The rain came in, and the cold got through the walls ; and when the high winds blew, it often seemed as if the Whole cottage Would be blown down—the Windows rattled in their casements, and the walls seemed to shake; and every thing showed that the place was hardly fit to be lived in. But what distressed the old man more than any thing else in these hard times was the thought of his little grandchild. What

would become of her if he was to be taken away from her? She could not live alone in the cottage, even if it were better and stronger and safer. How would she live, and where would she go to? These thoughts greatly troubled his mind, and he hardly dared to look forward to the future.

Still times got worse—meat became a scarce article in the cottage, and, save as they could, there was so little to

V save from, that their prospects were very bad. Winter came

on, and the old man felt his heart grow heavier and heav ier, as he thought of the joyous days of his boyhood, when Christmas-time brought lightness of heart and gladness of spirit to him, and all seemed so mirthful and happy. Why should Christmas-time be so different to his little Lilian? Not that she was wanting in cheerfulness, for she was a light-hearted, lively child; but she had little to make her so, and he could do so little for her!

These thoughts were in his heart as he sallied forth the day before Christmas-day, and walked slowly into the forest. He came to the place where he had been working last, and determined that he would try and cut and make up a few fagots, and forget his cares in the healthy work before him. At it he went, and worked steadily on till past twelve o’clock. The leaves were crisp under his feet, and the air was fresh ; for there was frost abroad, but not hard enough to be very cold; such weather it was as makes folks genial and happy in their hearts, and tingles their fingers without making them more than just so cold that a hearty rub sends the warm blood through the veins, and makes them warm and glowing again. And the old man looked up from his work, and put down his axe, and rubbed his hands, as he saw Lilian coming slowly along the wood with her little basket. On she came, till she got close to him, and then she said,

“Poor Gran, there isn’t much dinner to—day—only pota toes and a crust of bread: but the salt will make the pota toes taste nice ; and then, how many poor people have no bread at all !”

This was the most cheerful thing that poor Lilian could say, and she was quite right in reminding her grandfather how many people were worse off than he was. For I think all of us are much too fond of comparing ourselves with those who are better 017 than we are ; and this makes us dis contented, whereas, if we would only think how very many more there are who are worse off, we should find we had great reason to be contented with our lot.

The old man sighed : but he did not wish to seem sad be fore Lilian; so he tried to put on a cheerful tone, and pro posed that they should stroll down into the forest and find a sheltered nook where they might eat their dinner. So they walked down a little way, carrying the basket, till they came to a large oak, which seemed to offer the very shelter which they sought. Accordingly, they sat down close to it, made themselves as comfortable as they could, and began to open the basket and take out its contents. But scarcely had the cloth been spread upon the ground and disclosed the pota toes that were in it, and scarcely had Lilian produced the dark-colored brown bread which was to aid the meal, when a clear little silvery voice above their heads said, very dis tinctly,

“Who is it that eats bread and potatoes for dinner on Christmas-eve ?”

Lilian and her grandfather both looked up, but could see nothing but a pretty brown squirrel munching a nut in the boughs above them ; so they looked at each other and stared; and then each thought it must have been a mis take, and the grandfather put out his hand to take a potato. But wonder of wonders! the potato, which to all appearance was a vegetable of unblemished character, duly baked and only wanting to be eaten, deliberately rolled away of its own accord, and was immediately followed by all the others. Lilian and her grandfather were too much astonished to try and prevent them, but the old man, being uncommonly hungry after his work, made a rapid snatch at the bread.

‘ Back, however, he drew his hand more quickly than he had

put it out, for instead of the brown loaf there was only a hedgehog, who scuttled off as fast as he could towards a neighboring rabbit-hole, while, at the same time, the identi cal voice again exclaimed,

“1V0t bread and potatoes on Christmas-eve, I think!” and both Lilian and her grandfather jumped up in the

greatest astonishment. There, on a large bough of the oak,

immediately above their heads, stood the Forest Fairy. She was dressed in her winter cloak of moleskin ; but so elegantly was it made, that you could tell at once that it belonged to a Fairy, even if you had not seen the beautiful diamond buttons, and the gold and silver braid all over it. She had a branch of mistletoe in her hand, and a squirrel sat on each side of her, while she stood on the oak-bough and spoke to her visitors below. The latter, though startled at first, felt that no harm was intended, for they had only to look upon the kind expression on the face of the Forest Fairy to be quite sure that she had the most friendly feeling towards them.

“Why have you come to my palace, good people?” she asked ; and the grandfather opened his mouth very wide, as some people always do when they are asked a question by a person of higher rank than themselves. But Lilian clasped her little hands and said at once to the Fairy,

“Oh, do not be angry, dear Lady, for we did not know Gran and I—that this was your palace, and we came down here to eat our dinner quietly under the oak-boughs. And

as to our having only bread and potatoes, indeed that isn’t our choice, but we can get nothing else; for we are poor, very poor, Gran and I, and we hardly know onV one day whether we can look forward to any dinner at all on the next. But it is my fault bringing Gran down under the oak ; so pray don’t be angry with him /”

Then the Fairy smiled sweetly upon the child, and she said,

“Lilian!” (for Fairies know children’s names by instinct, and, if they are gopd children, are very partial to them), “I am not angry, nor are you so very, very poor; for no one is very poor who has a loving heart like yours, and tries to be contented. But you shall not dine off bread and potatoes to-day. I am obliged to go away on business; but when you and your grandfather are hungry, look the other side of the oak, and if you want any thing, rap three times on the old tree.”

When she had done speaking, the Fairy gracefully bent her head, and disappeared immediately. The old man looked at Lilian, and Lilian looked at the old man, till at last the former said,

“ But how about our victuals? I’m precious hungry.”

“Oh Gran!” said Lilian, “let’s trust the beautiful Lady, and look the other side of the oak.”

So they walked round the other side of the oak, and what do you think they saw? A plain deal table, firmly fixed in the ground, with a chair on each side of it. Upon it was a snowy-white table-cloth, and opposite each chair was a plate, a knife and fork, a piece of bread, and a mug. But, glorious to behold, in the middle of the table was a magnificent sir loin of beef, done to a turn, with the fat still crackling from the fire, and a perfect pool of rich, good gravy all round it, not to mention delicately-white horse-radish strewn upon it in profusion. On one side of it was a dish of smoking-hot

potatoes, and on the other one of tempting-looking Yorkshire pudding, while a large carving-knife and fork lay by the dish, and seemed by their appearance and attitude to invite the strangers to make use of them without further delay.

Gran wanted no second invitation: seating himself at the table without the loss of a moment, he only waited until Lil ian had said grace for both of them, before he commenced a vigorous attack upon the joint before him. You never saw an old man with such an appetite! Consider, this was the third day he had had no meat, and the clear, cold air, to gether with the exercise of chopping wood, had given him a capacity for eating which few aldermen could equal, and which a Lord Mayor himself could scarcely surpass. Lil- ian, too, enjoyed her beef thoroughly, though she continually stopped, and her eyes glistened with pleasure, as she saw her dear old grandfather so supremely happy. Presently, however, he stopped, and, looking round, perceived a foam

‘ing jug of ale upon the table, which he had not observed be

fore. He instantly filled both the mugs, and they drank the Fairy’s health with three times three.

However, in this world nothing lasts forever, and after a while they seemed to have had as much beef as they wanted. Lilian, who had only had half a mugful of the ale, thought she should like a glass of water, and modestly knocked three times at the oak, according to the Fairy’s directions. In stantly there appeared, to her great surprise, four Rabbits in the livery of the Fairy; that is to say, white breeches with light-blue stripes, and silver jackets with gold embroid ery. In their hands they bore a large dish, and having re moved the beef and vegetables from the table, they deposit ed upon it an enormous plum-pudding, and stood bowing around the table as if to invite the company to fall to at once. This was not to be opposed; and although Lilian resisted all her grandfather’s entreaties to do more than just

taste the pudding, the old gentleman fell to with a relish in which no one could have believed who had seen him previ ously tackle the beef. The pudding removed (from which he parted with a sigh), the attendant Rabbits at once pro duced cheese and celery, of which, however, the old man could partake but sparingly, and in a few moments the din ner was over.

When Lilian had said grace she was not quite sure what to do next, for it seemed very ungrateful to go away without thanking the kind Fairy who had given them so good a din ner in exchange for their bread and potatoes. There was no Fairy, however, to be seen, and the Rabbits stood there bowing so politely, that neither Lilian nor her grandfather felt it right to be sitting there so long and keeping them out in the cold. They slowly rose, therefore, and left the table, which almost immediately after’wards disappeared, and the Rabbits also. The well-dined couple stood gazing at the oak a little time with a look of lingering affection, and then walked slowly back to the place where the old man had been at work.. All of a sudden, Lilian remembered that she had left her basket behind her, with the cloth which had held the potatoes. So she ran back as quickly as she could, but neither cloth nor basket could she see. She looked about everywhere, but in vain, and felt quite inclined to cry; but having always been taught to make the best of every thing, she tried to hope that these little articles had been picked up by some one still poorer and in greater dis tress than her grandfather and she, and that they might be of great service to them. Still, she could not help being sorry to have lost her property. Her grandfather, however, was not angry with her, partly because he was too fond of her for that, and partly because he had eaten such a good dinner, which put him, as a good dinner puts most people, in a particularly good humor. He did not do much more