THE VISIT OF ELIDORUS TO THE FAIRY KINGDOM BENEATH THE BAY.

A short time before our visit to Swansea, wrote Giraldus Cambrensis, a circumstance worthy of note occurred in these parts, which Elidorus, a priest, most strenuously affirmed had befallen him. When a youth of twelve years, and learning his letters, since, as Solomon says, “The root of learning is bitter, although the fruit is sweet,” in order to avoid the discipline and frequent stripes inflicted on him by his preceptor, he ran away, and concealed himself under the hollow bank of a river. After fasting in that situation for two days, two little men of pigmy stature appeared to him, saying, “If you will come with us, we will lead you into a country full of delights and sports.” Assenting and rising up, he followed his guides through a path, at first subterraneous and dark, into a most beautiful country, adorned with rivers and meadows, woods and plains, but obscure, and not illuminated with the full light of the sun. All the days were cloudy, and the nights extremely dark, on account of the absence of the moon and stars. The boy was brought before the king, and introduced to him in the presence of the court; who, having examined him for a long time, delivered him to his son, who was then a boy. The men were of the smallest stature, but very well proportioned in their make; they were all of a fair complexion, with luxuriant hair falling over their shoulders like that of women. They had horses and greyhounds adapted to their size. They neither ate flesh nor fish, but lived on milk diet, made up into messes with saffron. They never took an oath, for they detested nothing so much as lies. As often as they returned from our upper hemisphere, they reprobated our ambition, infidelities, and inconstancies. They had no form of public worship, being strict lovers and reverers, as it seemed, of truth.

The boy frequently returned to our hemisphere, sometimes by the way he had first gone, sometimes by another; at first in company with other persons, and afterwards alone; and made himself known only to his mother, declaring to her the manners, nature, and state of that people. Being desired by her to bring a present of gold, with which that region abounded, he stole, when at play with the king’s son, the golden ball with which he used to divert himself, and brought it to his mother in great haste; and when he reached the door of his father’s house, but not unpursued, and was entering it in a great hurry, his foot stumbled on the threshold, and falling down into the room where his mother was sitting, the two pigmies seized the ball, which had dropped from his hand, and departed, showing the boy every mark of contempt and derision. On recovering from the fall, confounded with shame, and execrating the evil counsel of his mother, he returned by the usual track to the subterraneous road, but found no appearance of any passage, though he searched for it on the banks of the river (Tawe) for nearly the space of a year. But since those calamities which reason cannot mitigate are often alleviated by time, and length of time alone blunts the edge of our afflictions, and puts an end to many evils, the youth having been brought back by his friends and mother, and restored to his right way of thinking, and to his learning, in process of time attained the rank of priesthood. Whenever David II., Bishop of St. David’s, talked to him in his advanced state of life concerning this event, he could never relate the particulars without shedding tears. He had made himself acquainted with the language of that nation, the words of which, in his younger days, he used to recite, which, as the bishop had often informed me, were very conformable to the Greek idiom. When they asked for water, they said, “Ydor ydorum,” which meant, bring water; for “ydor,” in their language, signifies water, and dwr also, in the British language, signifies water. When they wanted salt they said, “Halgein ydorum,” bring salt. Salt is called halen in British.

[So far the narrative of Giraldus Cambrensis. We are happy to be able to lay before our readers some further details, hitherto unpublished, of the early life of Elidorus, and of his visits to the fairy kingdom beneath the bay.]

On the brow of Town Hill, and commanding a magnificent view of Swansea Bay, the channel, and their circumjacent coast, with the Devonian range of mountains in the distance; there stood, at the time of which we write, a small thatched cottage, with mud or clay walls, which was then occupied by Shôn Gwyllt, his wife Mary, and their son John, an only child.

Shôn, as had been his father and his grandfather before him, was a fisherman, which, in those times, was a highly remunerative business. Fish of all kinds were then abundant, and they commanded a ready market. In the bay were shoals of conger, cod, mullet, sole, whiting, and flat-fish; while, in the season, the fishermen were often fortunate enough to secure in their nets sea trout and salmon, which, for delicacy of flavour, were unequalled in the British seas and rivers, the Tawe excepted. In the Tawe salmon were as plentiful as the daisy on the verdant mead in early summer. The waters of that river then, and for several hundred years after, were as clear as the crystal dewdrops. Now it was on that delightful, that glossy and pellucid river that Shôn Gwyllt plied his trade, and the sylvan groves on its banks resounded with the sound of his rich tenor voice. Shôn loved a good song, and the echo of his voice in the near and distant groves had for him a peculiar charm.

We have already observed that Shôn plied his calling on the Tawe. He had a horror of the sea. Upon its waters he never ventured. Nothing could induce him to join his brother fishermen in the bay. Though they often tempted him by predicting that they would certainly have a splendid haul of fish, yet the prospect of a rich reward for his labour had no influence on his mind. To their solicitation he used to reply, “The Tawe has been a good and generous parent to me, so I shall not forsake the kind and rich old mother.” And Shôn did not forsake her. Day after day, during the season, he might be seen with his coracle on his back, wending his way down Mount Pleasant and across the fields to the Tawe (there were no houses there then), and thence he fished up the river as far as Morriston, which at that time consisted of a few clod-built huts. It was but seldom that he ventured above that village, though occasionally, and once in a way, he fished up to Ynistawe, but never went so high up the stream as Penllwch. His aversion to Penllwch appears to have arisen from the circumstance that his cousin met with an untimely end there, and Shôn dreaded to fish the deep pools under Glais, where the young man, whom he loved as a brother, was drowned.

Although Shôn was passionately fond of his trade, yet, strange to say, he was strongly opposed to his son following in his footsteps. He reasoned thus: It is an occupation in which there is a great risk of life. The fisherman has to contend with bad seasons, and occasionally fish is a drug in the market. The business is not respectable; those engaged in it are men of the lowest class, ignorant, drunken, and improvident, living from hand to mouth, never saving a penny against a rainy day. Instead of allowing young John to accompany him, he resolved to send him to school; and to school accordingly his son was duly sent. John, however, hated school, and intensely disliked his preceptor, a dislike he gloried in exhibiting whenever an opportunity offered itself. The teacher resented the boy’s conduct by the free use of the cane. In the severity of punishment he had no mercy, and to escape chastisement young Gwyllt often absented himself from school. The hours thus spent were among the happiest of his boyhood. After his father had gone, John would walk down to the Tawe, and leaping into a stranded coracle, he, with his paddle, would spend hour after hour in skimming over the waters. When he got tired, he would row to the bank, and fastening his little boat to the stake, lie down to rest. The remainder of the youth’s story we shall tell in his own words, which are as follows:—

I lay me down on the banks of Tawe’s crystal waters, and slept. In my sleep, behold I had a dream. In my dream or vision I saw a man approaching who was exceeding small in stature. He was clad in rich apparel, and the fastenings of his garments—which were as white as the winter’s snow—were of pure gold, rubies, and other precious gems. When he came up to the place where I lay, he addressed me in the softest and sweetest voice I had ever heard, and the voice said, “Oh, youth with ruddy cheeks and curly locks, why sleepest thou, seeing it is only the third hour after the sun of thy world has passed his meridian?”

“I sleep,” I replied, “to forget the past, to drown the very thought of existence.”

“With youth,” said the voice, “there is nothing to regret. The days of youth are days of innocence and pleasure. Every breeze fans the flame of delight.”

“But my sorrow, sweet voice, does not spring from the heart’s passion or paternal unkindness, but from stripes inflicted upon my body by a tyrannical and cruel teacher, a man who has no mercy nor kindness of heart.”

“Methinks you neglect your lesson,” said the voice, “and your preceptor uses the rod in order to teach you to be wise and learned.”

“If that be so, I’d rather be ignorant with whole bones, than learned with the lash so frequently used on my back.”

“There is a saying in your country, is there not?” said the voice, “‘spare the rod; spoil the child.’”

“Yes, yes; there is such a proverb, though I believe in it not.”

“What do you then believe in, my child?” asked the voice.

“I believe in gentleness and kindness. The victory that overcometh the world is love. Love will soften the hardest heart, subdue the most stubborn will, and melt the hardest natures like wax is melted in the fire.”

“If you worked hard at your books, and were attentive to your lessons, your master would probably be kind to you. You should remember that youth is the time to acquire knowledge, and that its possession is one of the most pleasurable things on earth.”

“Knowledge might be all you say in its favour, sweet voice, but I care not for it. One day spent on the banks of this beautiful river, or skimming on the bosom of its limpid and crystal waters in some friend’s coracle, from which I often watch the finny tribe below in their plays and gambols—is better to me than a thousand anywhere else. The waters of the Tawe are to me a source of exquisite delight, an unspeakable charm. I could gaze upon them for ever.”

“Ah, comely youth,” said the voice, “you speak what you know, and I must own to being charmed with your enthusiasm. You are young, and your vision is contracted. You are inexperienced; your world is bounded by the surrounding horizon. If you will come with me, I will show you fairer climes than these, more beautiful landscapes, grander hills and mountains; vales infinitely more lovely, and streamlets, brooks and rivers, which surpass in splendour and sublimity all other running waters of the world. Besides, in my country, everything is beautiful. The gold is as abundant there as are the stones on this lowland strand or on ocean’s tidal shore.”

“You have drawn, sweet voice, a charming picture of your country, but where is it? Is it an ideal or a real kingdom? If it be real, I would visit if I knew the way. Pray tell me the road which leads to a world so resplendently beautiful.”

“Fair youth,” said the voice, “the road is nigh thee; it is close to where thou sleepest. I will conduct thee there.”

“On one condition only will I be thy companion.”

“Name your condition, and if it be in my power, it shall be granted.”

“That you solemnly promise to guide me back again to my own native sphere, in the event of my failing to find the way.”

“Yes; I promise. Further, you shall have perfect liberty to stay, or to return to this upper world, at any time you desire. I will, too, be your companion.”

“But who art thou? What, too, is thy name?”

“I am a prince of my kingdom; and my name is Tippin.”

“What is your highness’ position at the royal court?”

“I am chancellor of my royal master, King Penaf, the wisest and best of monarchs.”

“Pray prince, is your king a giant like you?”

“In wisdom, yes. But fair youth, you should judge all men, not by their stature, but by their wise words, weighty sayings, and just decrees. The mind is the standard of man, for mind is the man. But don’t let us tarry longer. Awake! awake! oh sleeper; arise from your couch of sand; let us away, for my hour of departure has come.”

When I awoke, I found myself being carried through a dimly-lighted tunnel on the wings of the wind; I say on the wings of the wind for I was not conscious that any palpable substance touched my body. The further we receded from the earth, the wider and loftier became the subterranean passage; and by means of the dim light, I discerned rocks of gold and precious stones. When we arrived at the end of the passage, there appeared in the distance a scene which filled my bosom with wonder and admiration; never had I previously beheld such a combination of beauty. How shall I describe it! This I cannot do, for it passes description; far grander, infinitely grander, was the scene than anything I had ever witnessed.

In the distance were high hills and Alpine heights, plains and meads, and dells, which were covered with grass of emerald green. I could see neither sun, nor moon, nor stars; but the country was illumined by a beautiful blue soft light which was delightful, and most agreeable to the eye. Between day and night, there appeared no perceptible difference; while in those regions, summer and winter, spring and autumn, were unknown. Their year was distinguished by no seasons; they enjoyed a perpetual spring. Beautiful was their clime, exquisitely lovely was their country, singular and mysterious were the people.

As regards the climate, it had no variation. There was always there a soft, gentle, and warm breeze; which produced the most delectable sensation. This breeze appeared to possess life-giving and life-sustaining properties. When it came, as it sometimes did, in stronger currents than was generally the case, the old would repair to the mountain tops or bwllchs, and after two or three hours’ stay would return to the plain strong, blooming, and hale. But more of this anon.

Immediately after our arrival in the open country, the prince conducted me in silence to a building, the walls of which were formed of the finest marble. Its entrance was guarded by two little men, even less in stature than my conductor, who made obeisance as we passed. The prince conducted me up a flight of stairs, and then through several rooms, containing rich and costly furniture; at last we came to a door on which was printed in letters of gold “The King’s Chamber.” This chamber we entered. Having placed a chair beside me for my use, he then walked to the other side of the chamber, where there was a curious instrument fastened to a silver slab, and touched a small spring. There was attached to the instrument a thread or wire of the most delicate workmanship, which quivered at the touch; presently I heard the sound of a bell, which was followed by several ticks, and when the ticks ceased, the prince remarked that the royal carriage from Dinas Aur would arrive there in half an hour, in order to take us to the golden city.

“And how far is it to your city?” I asked.

“The actual distance is one hundred and twenty miles.”

“But your carriage travels more swiftly than the flight of the bird?”

“Certainly.”

“Well, is it safe to go so fast?”

“Yes, perfectly safe.”

“Your assurance contents me. Will you, please, answer me one question, namely: as you appear to travel about 250 miles in an hour, I want to know in what consists your motive power? Surely your horses can’t travel so rapidly as that?”

“Oh no; we don’t use horses. In these regions we make nature administer to our every want. We shall travel through the air, which we use to propel us along; more I cannot say, as this singular phenomenon is beyond my comprehension. The thing was discovered by our wise men, who keep the secret in their own breasts. Look, my young friend,” said the prince, addressing me; “the carriage is coming, do you observe its approach?”

When I looked, I saw something like a black spot in the air; it appeared like a small bird. Presently it became more distinct, and before I was really aware, the royal carriage had arrived, having come nearly five minutes earlier than we expected. At once we stepped into the royal saloon. Presently I discovered the carriage moving. When we ascended some twenty yards above the earth, we were carried at a fearful pace through the air; I perceived it was kept up by means of wings, which were made of material which in appearance was silk. These wings were of great dimensions, but were extended or contracted in size according to the power and force of the current. The propelling agency was compressed air, but how this worked, and whether it was combined with other gases or not, I could not learn. I found the travelling exceedingly pleasant; when I closed my eyes I could not detect the least motion. Objects came and went, we appeared to pass them as rapidly as the moving clouds in a terrible storm, or falling stars on a bright November night. We arrived at our destination a few minutes earlier than we anticipated. The prince conducted me to the royal palace, and placing me in charge of some important state functionary, repaired to the council of his royal master; when he left, he said he would not be long, and on returning he would join me for the evening. I must own, that I felt extremely sorry to have to part, even for a short time, from one who was so kind and so agreeable; and I felt this the more in consequence of the peculiar position in which I was placed. I was now the denizen of a strange world, and surrounded by a strange race.

During the absence of Prince Tippin I began to realize my position. I thought what a fool I was in leaving my home and country, the anxiety my absence would cause my parents, and the uncertainty of my ever seeing them again. This thought deeply moved me. I was exceedingly uneasy in both mind and conscience; I could neither sit nor lie still for three consecutive minutes. At last, after examining every article in the room, I asked the attendant if he could give me any kind of book or writing material, by the aid of which I hoped to forget myself. The attendant informed me that they did not use books, that their knowledge was orally handed down from father to son, from the priests to the people, and thus all the inhabitants became wise.

When the prince returned dinner was served up in the ante-room,—a fine hall, radiantly lighted up. Our first course was soup made of choice herbs, which was not only extremely satisfying but exceedingly palatable. Of this I partook heartily. When the dishes were removed our attendant brought in milk thickened with meal, coloured with saffron; this was served up in basins of gold. Afterwards we had tarts, pies, and fruit of the most delicious flavour; the fruit resembled the pear, but was sweeter and more juicy.

After the meal was over, I asked the prince if he would give me a glass of wine.

“My young friend,” replied the prince, “I regret to be unable to comply with your wish. Wines, and all kinds of alcoholic drinks, are prohibited from being used by the law of the State; I dare not, therefore, supply you with this beverage, even if I had it in my possession.”

“But why, excellency, have you such a singular law?”

“For various reasons. Would you wish to be furnished with the cause of the existence of such an enactment?”

“You will confer upon me a personal favour by stating the reasons for the existence of such a regulation.”

“These are the reasons. We want the minds of our people to be clear and bright, and their intellectual vision unclouded. Is not that important?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Again; in these dominions, crime, destitution, poverty, pauperism, and wrong-doing are unknown; but if our people, like yours, imbibed spirituous liquors, crimes would be as frequent and poverty as widely spread as are those terrible evils in your kingdom!”

“I readily admit the force of your reasoning; I am bound to own that the drinking customs of my country are the real causes of our more serious national evils.”

“Then, sir, your government ought to enact stringent laws in order to diminish the cause of those evils.”

“We are a race of free men, living in a free country, and I am afraid that no government will for some years be strong enough to battle successfully with this custom.”

“You pass laws to suppress vice; and drunkenness being one of the greatest vices of your people, and the parent of all others, I can see no reason why you should not put down this traffic by legislation.”

“Your excellency may be right in your conclusion. The evil is a terrible blot on our civilization; were we a strictly sober race, we should be by far the grandest people on earth.”

“My own observations lead me to the same conclusion; but for the present we must put an end to the argument. It is time for you to retire. Your attendant awaits you. To-morrow we shall meet again, though I am afraid only for a few minutes, as I have to pay a visit to a distant part of the empire.”

The next morning I breakfasted alone. Though I saw during the morning several of the little people passing along the lawn in front of my window, I did not venture to speak to them, nor did any member of the race pay me a visit.

About midday the door of my room was opened, and a little gentleman walked into the hall, and, without saying a word, sat down in a vacant chair opposite the one on which I was seated. After examining my appearance, he observed, “I presume you are the stranger who accompanied Prince Tippin to the palace last evening?”

“I am the stranger, sir.”

“I hope the attendant has shown you every courtesy, and has not been wanting in hospitality.”

“From the prince and attendant I have received every consideration; and as for the fare, sir, I might have gone further and fared worse. I like your food much.”

“This is a very different country from yours, is it not?”

Myself. Yes; widely different.

“I presume you find it strange to have light without a sun or moon or stars?”

Myself. I miss the genial light of the sun; but there is a softness, a reflected beauty, in the light here which we do not possess in our diurnal luminary.

“Our light is uniform, as is our climate. In the northern regions of your country the sun constantly shines during several months of your year, which is followed by continuous darkness or night, when the inhabitants have to reside in snow or ice-built houses. Dreary must be the life of a people so circumstanced. You have in your climate genial and joyous spring, when nature revives from the dead and puts on her youthful and gay apparel, when the thorn, the citron, and the apple-tree bud and blossom;—beautiful is your spring, the loveliest and most charming season of your year. Then comes your summer, with its green meads, and fields of waving corn, and rich fruit. No artist can paint, no language can set forth, the grandeur of your clime during autumn. What have you afterwards? Cold, icy, and chilling winter, with its dank and cold atmosphere; with your hills, mountains, and even your dales, covered with snow. In winter your country seems dead, clay-like, and lifeless; sad and dreary to me is your winter scene. In this land we have perpetual spring. In all the months of the year the orange, the citron, and the apple-tree send forth their buds and blossoms and their ripe and rich fruit; our valleys and mountains are always green, a circumstance which to you, doubtless, appears very strange.”

Myself. Is that really so? Do your fields and trees and hillsides present at all times the same hue?

“Yes; the colour never alters, and nature in this region is never weary in its development, and never halts in the manifestation of her power; she goes from strength to strength, and with increased vigour as the years roll on.”

Myself. A strange phenomenon this! Can you account for the existence of such perennial inherent power?

“Oh yes. Upon our mountains, valleys, and plains there perpetually descend from above constant showers of ethereal riches. Our earth thus daily receives from heaven even more riches than she gives in flower and fruit, and grass, and vegetable matter. Thus she daily and hourly becomes richer and more bountiful.”

Myself. But suppose the spring, the perennial fountain, of this life-giving bounty and luxuriance, were to fail or to dry up, what would be your position then? From whence could you then obtain your supply?

“Of such a calamity we entertain no dread. For thousands of years this process has been going on, and through years unnumbered it will be continued. In your world there is a gradual decay; nature there is exhausting herself. For the present you have enough and to spare; but how will it be, what will your people do, when the virgin soil of the world on the other side of the Atlantic becomes exhausted? That time must come; what will your people do then?”

Myself. Before that day arrives humanity will become etherealized, spirit-like, and super-mundane. As a race, sir, we are not destined to continue the sordid, cloddy, and vulgar eating people we now are. Oh, no; the earthly tabernacle is to be put off, and we shall live on angels’ food.

“Your race then, sir, has the hope and prospect of dwelling in a sphere beyond your present world?”

Myself. Most assuredly.

“Who is to be the king of that world? Who the ruler?”

Myself. The king will be the great Unseen and Eternal, the self-existent and self-created Being who rules heaven’s armies and earth’s inhabitants.

“This is the Being, is it not, whom your nation worship and adore?”

Myself. Yes; and we are to live with Him for ever, and enjoy His fellowship. And don’t you believe in Him too?

“Alas! no; I wish we did. When I consider how beautiful our clime and country are,—our friendship, associations, consciousness, friends, relations,—I often shudder at the thought of annihilation. Sometimes I am terribly oppressed with the thought of ceasing to be, and the more thoughtful of my race hold similar opinions and feelings.”

Myself. What do you and your people worship? Who is the object of your adoration?

“We worship truth; a thing not a person; an idea, not a reality; a form, beautiful though it be, and not a substance. It is awful to think that the grave is to be the end of our joys, pleasures, and delights. In the matter of worship, you are right and we are wrong; you are the wise ones, we the fools. But you have, methinks, too much of form in your manner of worshipping your Supreme.”

Myself. I agree with your last remark; but pray tell me how you have acquired such an intimate knowledge of our affairs.

“By frequent visits to your land, and by mixing with your people.”

Myself. I never saw a member of your race until I was fortunate enough to meet Prince Tippin.

“Perhaps not; but I have traversed the whole of your country, as well as other countries beyond the sea.”

Myself. Is that really so? You certainly astonish me.

“Twice every year, in your spring time and autumn, I visit your world on affairs of state.”

Myself. Then there dwell in other climes a kindred people, a race like your own?

“Certainly; and I have often paid them a friendly visit.”

Myself. In what parts of the country do they live?

“In several parts. In fair Mona’s Isle there dwell the Pobli Bach. In East Anglia is the race of the Plantos. In Germany, living on the banks of the Rhine, are the Pobli Wyn. In France, Spain, Italy, and the East there are different tribes inhabiting a precisely similar country to this. And their habits, customs, mode of life and government, are all identical with ours.”

Myself. And do you live in peace with each other? Do you never quarrel, and go to war, and kill each other in battle?

“Oh dear no! We live at peace. According to our code of morals, it is very wicked to take away or destroy life. Of all things in our world life is the beautifullest. We are shocked, and pained, and grieved in witnessing the contentions between the peoples of your world. In our view it is awful to use your arts, skill, and wealth, in making instruments, and in training and paying men, to kill and destroy. Yet you call yourselves Christians!”

Myself. In my conscience I believe we are wrong.

“You do; do you?”

Myself. Assuredly I do. I believe war is wrong; is hateful to high heaven; is contrary to the principles of the gospel, which command us to love one another. From God comes life. He sustains it. He only has a right to take it away. In man we see His image. Of one blood He has made us all. Although we are brothers, yet we act towards each other as if we were the children of the evil one. But a time will come when strife and contention shall cease, when there shall exist universal harmony, a harmony founded on the law of Christ, which is the law of love.

“I am surprised at your confession. The opinion you hold on this question is directly contrary to that held by your teachers. Why, your ministers preach the doctrine that war is in harmony with your faith. Is not that so?”

Myself. I must own that that is so. Still I believe them to be in error, and hope they will discover their error before it is too late. I am afraid that a great deal of the scepticism of the times is principally owing to the want of harmony between the truth and the profession of it. As a race we don’t practically live out the precepts of our faith. Hence the reason why men of the world scorn religious men, and you know contempt usually ends in disbelief.

“If we have not the light you have, still we are a purer and a more virtuous people than yours. We are sober and temperate, but your race is not. We live in peace, never engage in war, but you kill each other with the sword and the bow. Then as our climate is so superior to yours, why not stay with us for ever?”

Myself. I could not live without seeing my father and mother; without visiting the upper world in order to bask occasionally on the sylvan banks of Tawe’s crystal waters; to gaze on the blue heavens, with their twinkling stars; to wander about the green meads, and listen to the rich melody of the winged songsters of the grove and primeval forest; but I should like to visit you now and then. Before I return I am anxious to see and have converse with your king, the rather that, as the prince informed me, he is a wise and virtuous ruler.

“I rejoice that the prince has spoken so well of his master. I am the king, and I thank you for speaking so freely of your country and its people. Whenever you choose to pay us a visit, be assured you shall be heartily welcome.”

Myself. May it please your majesty, your majesty has treated me as if I were a prince instead of a poor fisherman’s son. Your majesty’s kindness and hospitality I shall ever remember with gratitude. I accept your invitation, and I will certainly pay another visit to your beautiful country.

The King. At all times you shall be heartily received.

Myself. Thanks; a thousand thanks. Were I not a Welshman, I would dwell in your beautiful land.

The King. You have spoken handsomely of my dominions. But here comes the prince; he shall conduct you to the sylvan banks of your beautiful river, a river you so much love.

Before setting out on my homeward journey, I briefly inspected the royal carriage. I now discovered, what had previously escaped my notice, that underneath, and attached to the side of the carriage, were inflated skins filled with natural gas. These gave a buoyancy to the machine. Indeed, it was only by the use of strong ropes made of grass that it was kept on the earth. On stepping into the carriage, these ropes were unhooked; it then began to ascend, and on reaching an altitude of forty yards we got into what the prince called node currents, which carried us along at the rate of 300 miles an hour. We soon reached the public buildings referred to in a previous part of my story, and from thence he conducted me through the subterranean passage until we reached fair Tawe’s shore.

I urged the prince to accompany me to my parents’ cottage, which he declined. He said that he had a special engagement with the fairies of East Anglia—having arranged to spend the night with them at their annual dance on the verdant fields below Derwent Fawr. I subsequently learnt, that Prince Tippin was engaged to a princess of the above tribe, of the name of Titania; and that they frequently met on Derwent’s green fields “to dance the nights to the whistling wind.”

On entering my home I found my parents mourning for me as one who was dead. At first they would not believe me to be their son, but thought it was their son’s spirit which had come to visit them. I soon convinced them of being still in the flesh,—that I was no ghost, no spirit. I had then to give them a history of my travels, to tell them of the strange sights I had seen, the singular people I had met, the character of the kingdom I had visited; but on my telling them of the gold and precious stones with which the land abounded, my mother upbraided me for coming away without a large lump of gold. I told her that I did not covet other people’s property, and that I should have acted extremely wrong had I taken away the gold of a people from whom I had received so much kindness.

I remained at home for several weeks, and occasionally went to school. I found my old enemy as cruel as ever, and I came to the conclusion that on the very first opportunity I would return to the fairy kingdom beneath the bay.

On wandering along the strand one fine morning, I was hailed by a voice I could never forget. The prince informed me that having just returned from visiting his fair Titania, he was about to return to Dinas Aur, and urged me to return with him. I readily yielded to his wishes, and sending a message to my parents where I had gone, we started off, and returned by means of the aërial carriage.

As I anticipated, my return to Dinas Aur, was hailed with extreme delight by the few persons I had come in contact with on my previous visit. His majesty the king gave me a hearty welcome, and expressed a hope that I would continue to sojourn in his dominions at least for a season. I expressed my gratitude to his majesty for his extreme kindness, and informed him that as my parents were acquainted with the place of my abode, I was the less anxious to return home than if that knowledge was not in their possession.

The king replied, that I had shown, by sending the message I had, that I was a dutiful son, fond of my mother and father, that I had shown I did not want to give them a moment’s uneasiness and pain. His majesty then dismissed me, and placed me under the special protection of his chancellor, Prince Tippin. This arrangement afforded me inexpressible satisfaction and delight, as on all occasions I had received from him every consideration and courtesy.

In my subsequent intercourse with the prince, I found him to be a man without prejudice, wholly free from bigotry, and in all circumstances never showing the least indication of passion. He loved purity and goodness wherever he found those virtues. He abominated cant, and loathed low tricks which no one who wished to be regarded as honourable would resort to in order to gain a special end. In his own beautiful language, which I soon learned, he would use a string of adjectives to characterize that class of men, who are mean, selfish, unprincipled; men who have no claim to be admitted into the society of pure and noble and unselfish individuals. “Look,” he said one day to me, “at your public men, from the highest to the lowest; they are influenced by the love of power and fame, and you find that when a particular end is to be secured they are indifferent as to the means to be employed. In appointing persons to fill important posts, the claims of your best men are wholly ignored. You sadly want men at the head of your affairs who are just, magnanimous, and patriotic, men who are simply ambitious to secure the welfare and weal of the people.”

Myself. I must own, your excellency, that there is too much truth in your strictures and censures. But we are improving, and shall ultimately become a pure and perfect race. Are there no persons of the class you have described in your country? Is your race perfectly free from selfishness and faction?

“Certainly; we are all equal. As citizens and subjects we occupy the same position. Our best men occupy all posts in the civil government of the country. Here again, all people readily obey the law: delinquents are banished the kingdom.”

Myself. Have you not frequent occasion to put the law in force?

“By no means. There is only one case on record for one hundred years in which the law has been rigorously carried out.”

Myself. You must be a law-observing people. I wish from my heart that our race were as pure as yours.

“They would be were your rulers as wise as ours.”

Myself. Then you think that our leading men are inferior to yours?

“Think! I know they are. The history of your country proves this. But we must drop the subject now. I have an engagement with my royal master at this hour, and I must hasten to the council chamber, for I fear his majesty has already gone there.”

After supper, and just as I was about to retire to my chamber, I received a visit from the Princess Mervyna and her two little sisters. They were attended by their maid, who, though she was smaller in stature than her mistress, was evidently many years her senior. The Princess Mervyna introduced herself, and said that she had come to command me to join them at their sports the next day. I expressed regret to the princess at being unable to comply with her wish, having previously arranged to accompany the chancellor to a distant part of the kingdom. I told her that I should regard it as a high honour to join them at their games the day after. She acquiesced in this, though she was evidently a little vexed as well as disappointed with the arrangement. However, she gave me a gracious bow, and on retiring, said, “Don’t forget your promise.” I again assured her I would not.

It was nearly noon before Prince Tippin and I started off from the city on the following day. We had the same carriage as the one we had used on previous occasions, and we proceeded at an equally rapid pace.

After a flight of 140 miles, we descended to the earth on the top of a high mountain, which in their language was called Wyddfa, or Conspicuous, from which position we had a magnificent prospect of the country. In the distance we beheld seas like glass, on which apparently were myriads of little people, some of whom were engaged in skating, others in bowling balls along the ice, others were playing cricket, while not a few were dancing to the music of the wind. We observed a great number of the little folks playing with golden balls, which they propelled along the ice by means of a crook.

Though the players went along the ice at a fearful pace, yet I did not observe a single person fall.

Between us and the players there was a beautiful undulating country, which abounded with streamlets and sylvan dells, and the peculiar soft light of the region brought out the deep green of the foliage to a degree I had not previously beheld. The scene was exquisitely lovely, so rich in tint and colour as to leave an indelible impression upon the mind. Indeed and in truth this was a fairyland, an enchanted ground, though to my vision it was real, palpable, and actual. I became rooted to the spot, for never had I beheld a scene so full of beauty. I was awakened from my reverie by the familiar voice of the prince, who called out, “Elidorus! Elidorus! our time is up; we must haste over other mountains and valleys, over streamlets and rivers, for we have a long distance yet to go, and but a short time to travel it in.”

On taking our seat in the aërial carriage, the prince informed me that we should not stop again until arriving at our journey’s end, and that on passing a rocky headland we could see in the distance, we should have a capital view of the city of the plain. When we passed the place alluded to, the city appeared in sight, but the houses and palaces were buried in the rich green foliage of trees, which grew in every street. As we were proceeding at a fearful pace, we had only a glance at the city as we passed over it.

On arriving at our destination, we were conducted by a little gentleman clad in rich apparel to the Hall of Brotherhood, which we found was crowded with the principal inhabitants of the city. The prince was conducted to the chair of honour—a kind of throne, and he motioned me to occupy the vacant seat on his right hand. Presently the prince asked the governor of the city if peace, good-will, and concord reigned there?

“Tranquillity and brotherly love still continue,” replied the governor.

“Ever so live,” said the prince, “for peace is one of the cardinal virtues of all good citizens. I wish to know, sir governor, if your city is free from sickness, disease, and fevers; and if not, why not?”

“The bloom of health, your excellency,” replied the governor, “is on the cheeks of all. And why? Our people drink only the pure waters of the crystal fountain. They inhale the constant current of vital air, which flows here like a tidal wave, and it imparts life, energy, power, and joy to all.”

The governor then retired and left the hall. When the door was closed, the prince asked the citizens if they had any charge to make or any complaint to bring against the governor. They all rejoined that they had not any complaint, but that, on the contrary, his conduct met with the hearty approval of all. Presently the council came to an end, and soon afterwards we returned home.

On the following morning I was awakened by a gentle knock at my chamber door. Presently the door was opened, whereupon my waiting attendant walked in. He informed me that the Princess Mervyna had already called, and that she and the royal party were ready to proceed to their place of rendezvous, having arranged to have a grand day in honour of my visit. I felt very much annoyed at having overslept myself, and still more vexed at keeping the little lady and her friends waiting me. I only took a few minutes to dress, and having taken a basin of warm milk, proceeded in search of the royal party, who had already taken their seats in the king’s carriage. The princess and her little brother and sisters gave me a cordial greeting. I soon found that we had left the earth and were travelling due south of my previous day’s voyage, and before I fully realized my position we had descended on the identical sea of ice where I had seen the games being carried on on the preceding morning.

On leaving the carriage the party broke up into sections, some joining parties who had already arrived from other cities of the kingdom; others joining other parties who appeared of a different race from the natives. The princess acted as my cicerone during the day, and she laughed heartily on seeing me now and then unable to retain my balance on the slippery ice. Had it not been for her presence of mind, I certainly should have fallen on several occasions. Towards the evening I joined in the games, though I found myself but an indifferent player. We wound up the day’s fête by a dance on the ice to the music of the harp. Never shall I forget the scenes of that day. The hopping and skipping, the dancing and romping of the little people, who tried to excel each other in mirth and fun: the scene produced an impression on my mind which the iron hand of time will never deface or remove. On our return to the palace, we were all ushered into the banqueting hall, where a grand feast awaited us. After dinner, Mervyna related to the king, her father, the principal incidents of the day; and the good monarch was highly amused at her stories of my difficulties and mishaps. When the banquet was over I retired to my apartment, where I was soon joined by Prince Tippin.

* * * * *

[Here there is a break in the narrative owing to the loss of several folios of the original manuscript. From the contents of the remaining portion, we infer that the missing pages contained an account of several other visits paid to the people of the fairy kingdom, and the incidents of the respective journeys. We learn, too, that the Princess Mervyna became greatly attached to our hero, but that an estrangement subsequently took place between them. But the remaining narrative contains no record of the cause which led to the estrangement. The following is the concluding portion of the history.]

* * * * *

Ah, me! ah, me! what a strange race and people is that who inhabit the fairy kingdom. They live in a beautiful country, speak a language which is full of poetry, they are a virtuous and truth-loving race. Moreover, their land abounds with treasures; gems, gold, and precious stones are there. Oh, what a noble and loving spirit is that of the dear princess, loving and lovable is she. To be with her, was like a heaven upon earth. I loved her as I never loved human being. To me she was more precious than all the world. In my various visits the tie between us became dearer and dearer. Had it not been for — I’ll not mention his name, I should be longingly looking forward to another tender embrace. But the tie is now broken—I did not mean to take the gold. Justly have I been punished. Had I not done this, had I refused to listen to the suggestive temptations of my mother,—the door would not have been closed. It was I who did the deed, and I repent in dust and ashes. What I have suffered on account of this, no tongue can tell, nor can language set forth. But my deepest grief arises from the thought that I shall never again embrace the dear M—, the object of my heart’s fondest affection.