CHILD ISLAND. FAIRY TALE FOR YOUNGER GIRLS.

A long time ago—so long that it was ages before my grandfather was a little boy, and long before his grandmother was a little girl—there was, not far from fairyland, a beautiful lake, the waters of which were so clear that as they sparkled in the sunlight they glistened and gleamed like silver: and so it was called the Silver Lake. Beautiful white swans sailed majestically on its surface, and thousands of gold fishes swam in its clear waters.

On one part of the lake the most lovely water-lilies opened up their white flowers, looking, as some people said, like tiny boats; but one of the little girls I am going to tell you about thought they looked like a set of green saucers and white cups, and used to call them the swans' best tea-things. Now, in the midst of this Silver Lake stood the beautiful island called Child's Island. Such a lovely little island as it was had never been seen before, and I verily believe has never been seen since.

Black clouds never came near it, for there the sky was blue and cloudless always, and I am told that at night more stars might be seen from that pretty isle than from any other part of the world; but whether that is true or not I cannot tell. But I do know that its shores sloped green down to the water's edge, that the brightest and sweetest flowers bordered every pathway, that the roses were without thorns, and there was not a single nettle in the whole island. I know, also, that the grass was the greenest, the trees the shadiest, the flowers the brightest, and the fruit the ripest to be found anywhere. As to the animals, there were none but the gentlest kind. Little white mice went peeping about with their wee pink eyes, pretty tame squirrels bounded from tree to tree, and a herd of graceful fawns fed and played in the meadows. Birds of the gayest plumage and sweetest song were there; pretty poll-parrots hopped among the trees, crying, "What's o'clock? What's o'clock?" In short, it was the brightest, merriest, sunniest spot in the world, and I can say no more in its praise than that. All day long the sun shone gently down upon the little isle, and the wind never raised its voice above a whisper.

But, besides birds and butterflies, fawns, and flowers, there was something else in this pretty isle. Now, what do you guess that something was? Why, a beautiful fairy palace.

I call it a fairy palace, not because fairies lived there, for they did not, but because it was the work of fairy hands, and was more beautiful than any other palace in the world. It stood in the midst of a lovely garden, but no wall or railing shut it in from the rest of the island; and you and I, had we been there, might have walked across the green lawn, and plucked some of the gay flowers, and gone up the marble steps, without anyone saying, "Stop! You must not go there." Round about the palace, in groups of twos and threes, were several little houses, all very beautiful and all exactly alike.

Now, I daresay you will think that this was a very pretty place, at the same time, very strange; yet the strangest and, to me, the most charming thing of all was that there were none but children in this little island. They were all quite young, the eldest amongst them were not twelve years old; they were the king and the queen, who, of course, lived in the beautiful palace. And thus, because only children dwelt there, it was called Child Island.

Well, these little folks had nothing to do but to play; and a rare time they had of it, as you shall hear; but perhaps you would first like to know how it happened that they were alone in this island without any grown people to take care of them. Then listen, and I will tell you.

The Silver Lake and Child Island belonged to the good fairy Corianda, who was very fond of little children, and took great pleasure in inventing games for, and otherwise amusing them. She loved all children, but she was especially fond of those of Noviland, the king of which was one of her subjects. She used often to slip on her magic veil, which rendered her invisible, and go amongst the little folks of Noviland to watch them at their play, or at their lessons, or to peep at them whilst they slept. It was in this way that she found out there was scarcely a child in Noviland but what was discontented with what it had, and sighed for what it had not.

One fancied that Noviland would be the jolliest place in the world for little boys if there were no lessons, no schools; but grammar and spelling spoiled all. Pepitia thought that if she might wear fine dresses like mamma, have a coach and six to ride in, and no one to control her, she would be perfectly contented. The little Teresa sighed for a land where there was no A B C, and Dorinda for one where toys grew on trees, and no hard-hearted shopkeeper demanded money before they were plucked. Herbert wished he lived in a place where there were plenty of gay butterflies, and that he had nothing to do but to hunt them. Thus each child had something to wish for, and something to be discontented about.

I wonder whether there are children in any other part of the world who, like those of Noviland, want what they have not, and grumble at what they have? Do you know any? Ah, no! I suppose there are no other little folks so silly, so I won't urge the question, but go on with my story.

When the good fairy heard all these murmurings, she said to herself, "I will gratify these little people for a short time in what they want, and we shall see if they will be happy then."

So she set her fays to work, and had built on Child Island the beautiful palace and houses I have told you of. When all was ready, she and her fays took the little grumblers out of their beds one fine night and wafted them away, whilst still asleep, to Child Island, taking care, I should tell you, to leave changelings from Fairyland in their places, so that the parents might not be filled with grief in the morning to find that their dear children had been stolen away.

The next morning, after the sun had dispelled the mist which always seemed to hang about him before breakfast at Child Island, and he was fresh and bright for the day, like little boys with clean faces ready for school, the young strangers were all assembled on the lawn in front of the palace, and the fairy spoke to them as follows:—

"My dear children, as you all fancy you would be happier if you were quite free from control, and if you had nothing to do but to play, I have brought you to this beautiful island, where you can amuse yourselves all day long. You will have everything supplied to you, and there will be no one to dictate to you. These pretty houses I give you to live in. The palace is for the king and queen, and the other houses are so precisely alike that none of you will be able to dispute as to choice. You, Philip, who are the eldest boy, shall be king, and you, Pepitia, who are the eldest girl, shall be queen. Be kind and good-natured to one another, and I will always be your friend. Don't eat too much fruit or cake, as that will make you ill. Now, come with me, and I will show you the inside of the palace."

Then they followed the good fairy, in a merry crowd, up the marble steps into the hall of the palace, and a grand hall it was, with its rows of pillars and richly decorated walls. The fairy led them up the staircase and through the royal apartments, which consisted of drawing-rooms, dining-rooms, bedrooms, and dressing-rooms, where the looking-glasses reached from floor to ceiling and the wardrooms were filled with magnificent dresses. Then into the throne-room, hung with crimson velvet embroidered in gold, and where, at the upper end, were two golden thrones inlaid with precious stones and cushioned with crimson velvet. The more they saw the more delighted the little folks were; they clapped their hands with joy, and cried, "Oh, my! how beautiful!" at least twenty times in a minute.

"Oh! shouldn't I like to be you," said Amanda to Pepitia, "you will be queen, and have all these fine things."

After they had seen all that was in the palace, the fairy took them over the other houses, all of which were elegantly furnished, but it would take up too much time to tell you of all the beautiful things that were in them. Just fancy how you would like to furnish a little house that had drawing-rooms, dining-rooms, bedrooms, kitchens, and whatever you fancy you would like to put there was there, and even more than that. No wonder the children were pleased.

After the fairy had shown them all the pretty things the houses contained, and had allotted to each set of children the particular house they were to inhabit, a crystal car, drawn by six white swans, was seen to approach the shore. Then the fairy said, "Now, my little dears, I must go, for here is my coach and six come to fetch me." So she kissed them all round, bade them be good children, said she would come to see them again some day, got into her car, and was soon out of sight, the children shouting, "Good-bye, dear Fairy, good-bye," till they could see her no longer.

Then they said, "What shall we play at first?"

"Let us go into that pretty dell, where the fawns are at play, and gather some of the flowers," said Pepitia. To this they all readily assented, and ran skipping and singing into the dell. Some pulled long rushes and sat themselves down to weave little baskets; some gathered nosegays, some played with the fawns. Presently one of them said, "Oh! suppose we have a dance."

"Yes, yes, yes, so do," cried a dozen little voices.

"But there's no music," objected the queen, "we can't dance without music. How I wish we had some!"

"I'll hum a tune," said Sophia; and she immediately began one.

"No, that's so stupid," said Amanda.

"Oh!" screamed a little boy. "Look there!"

"Look where? What's the matter?" cried they all.

"Why, look at that big yellow thing," replied the child, pointing to a large gourd which lay upon the ground, "it's opening all by itself!"

And sure enough it was slowly opening, as if it were a monster mouth taking a lazy yawn. The children clustered together and watched it eagerly, when, to their great amazement, out popped a little figure, not more than six inches high, dressed in a suit of sky blue velvet with white lace ruffles at the throat and wrists. The dress was fastened down the front and at the knees by diamond buttons; diamond buckles were in its shoes, white silk stockings on its legs, and on its head a crimson cap with white feather. As soon as this quaint little figure jumped out of the gourd he was followed by another, and another, and another, till there were a full score of them, all dressed exactly like the first, and each carrying a tiny musical instrument in his hand.

As the last jumped out the gourd closed, and the leader of the Liliputian band stepped a few paces in front of his fellows, and, taking off his feathered cap, made a low bow to the king and queen, then, without speaking a word, he sprang on to the foremost branch of a white Mayflower bush, which was in full blossom, and immediately his little companions perched themselves on different branches behind him, and began tuning their tiny instruments.

The children, full of glee, arranged themselves for a dance, the band struck up "Sir Roger de Coverley," and away they all went, their little feet keeping time to the music as truly as the leader's tiny baton. They danced, and they danced, and they danced, till they were too tired to dance any more, then they flung themselves down to rest; upon which the little leader of the band jumped down from his perch and placed himself on a broad smooth leaf, that two of his band spread on the grass opposite to where sat the king and queen.

He made a low bow to their majesties, the band struck up, and the little fellow commenced dancing a pas seul. If you had seen him prancing and capering about the leaf, now with his arms akimbo, going jauntily round and gracefully bending his body from side to side, keeping time to the music as he did so; now suddenly clasping his hands above his head, whirl rapidly round and round till he got to the front edge of the leaf, and then, springing into the air, come down on the very tips of his pointed shoes; if you had seen all this I think you would have laughed and shouted as loudly as did Rosetta, Minette, and all the rest of the little folks. When the droll fellow had finished his dance he flourished his feathered cap, made a low bow, and backed to where his companions were standing. The gourd slowly opened again, and each little fellow making his bow, popped in as quickly as he had popped out; then the gourd closed, and nothing more was seen of the little musicians that day.

The children gathered round the gourd and tried to open it; tapped at it; called to the little musicians to come back; bent down their pretty heads to listen; but all was useless, no sound came from it, and they might as well have tried to open the oak tree 'neath which they stood as it.

Now, for fear you should think that the good fairy had left these little children to take care of themselves entirely, to cook their own food, wash their own clothes, make their own beds, and all that sort of work—for children, you know, cannot do these things for themselves, and that is why they are always so good and obedient to mammas and papas and kind aunts, who see to all these things being done for them—I will tell you what queer, droll little beings she left in the island to attend to the domestic concerns of the young king and queen and their little subjects.

Just shut your eyes and fancy you see a little brown figure with small dark eyes, like black beads, sharp nose, thin lips, and glossy red hair, combed off the face, plaited into a long tail behind, and tied by a bow of black ribbon. Then fancy this little figure, with arms so long that they reach to its knees, dressed in a dark blue smock frock without sleeves, a red leather belt round its waist, dark red trousers on its legs, and green morocco shoes on its feet; then call it a Noman, and you will see precisely the sort of beings which were left to wait on the young inhabitants of Child Island. They were all alike and all dressed alike; they used to make their appearance and begin to dust and sweep, and light fires, and such like, just after cock-crow every morning, and they all disappeared every night directly the children were safely tucked in bed. They came all together and they disappeared all together, but where they came from or where they went to nobody ever knew, so you must not expect me to tell you.

I daresay you will think these Nomen a strange race, but I am going to tell you something stranger still concerning them, and that is that none of them could talk, no—not one!

Was not that odd? They had some way of talking amongst themselves by means of signs, but the only words they could say to their young masters and mistresses were, "nob, nob," which meant no, and "yah, yah," which meant yes. These they uttered very quickly, and nodding their heads at each sound.

Now, the good fairy had charged these little beings to be very kind and attentive to the children; to cook their meals and serve them nicely, and to keep their houses in pretty order.

She also charged the children to be kind and gentle to the Nomen; never in any way to tease, annoy, or insult them, for if they did, the fairy said, and she looked very grave as she said it, "some punishment would immediately follow." This Master Edmund found to be quite true, when one day he attempted to kick the Noman who was brushing his hair, for as he raised his leg to kick, an invisible hand pulled the other from under him, and Master Edmund measured his length on the floor. So, also, Miss Sophia, who said one day, whilst looking in the glass, admiring herself and sneering at the Noman who was fastening her frock, "What a fright you are with your squiny eyes and red hair! I shouldn't like to be such a fright as you are." Upon which she immediately felt a sharp prick on her nose, whereon a large red pimple, as big as a cherry, made its appearance; her frock was torn to tatters, and on going to her wardrobe for another she found it quite empty, so she had to wear her rags all that day, as it was not until the next that the clothes came back to her wardrobe, and the pimple left her nose. I warrant me she will never be saucy to the Nomen again!

Master King Philip had a lesson of the same kind once, at his dinner table, when all his court were dining with him. Calling to one of the Nomen who were waiting, "Make haste, you brown rascal, and fill me a glass of wine!" the words were scarcely out of his mouth than he got a smart sounding slap on his face, and his elbow was violently jerked, so that he spilt all his wine, whereupon the little lords and ladies tittered, and some were so uncourtly as to laugh outright, and say it "served him right," which made Master King Philip wish he had not been so bounceable.

One evening, after they had been some weeks on the island, the king told his courtiers to prepare for a butterfly hunt, which he intended to have the next day. Early on the morrow they all assembled at the palace, attired in green and white, and each carrying an ivory rod, at the end of which was a green net, with which to catch the butterflies. On reaching the top of the staircase the little lords went to the dressing-room of the king, and the little ladies to that of the queen. Her majesty was dressed in white satin trimmed with green.

"Won't you wear your crown?" asked Rosetta.

"Well, I don't know," said the queen, in an undecided tone of voice. "Ought I? Won't it be too heavy for the chase?"

"Oh, but kings and queens always wear their crowns when they go out—don't they?" said Rosetta, appealing to her companions.

"Yes, yes; to be sure they do. Wear the crown—do wear the crown!" they all cried, clapping their hands.

Pepitia did not require much persuasion on the subject, as she dearly liked to be finely dressed. And, indeed, when she had put it on, and also her velvet train lined with satin and trimmed with ermine, I must confess she did look a charming young queen. The little Dorinda was so struck with her appearance that she screwed up her face into a comical expression of surprise, and, holding up both her hands, exclaimed—

"Oh, my! Aren't you smart!"

"But I don't like the way your hair is done," said Amanda, who was disposed to be quizzical.

"Don't you?" rejoined the queen, tartly. "Then you needn't."

Amanda was on the point of making an equally tart reply, when fortunately the king appeared at the door, and so interrupted the threatened dispute. He also wore his crown and train, and, moreover, he carried the ball and sceptre in his hand; for this little monarch was not disposed to part with any of the insignia of royalty, and thought he might as well not be a king if he did not wear the grand trappings belonging to his office.

Then the whole party went down into the hall to be marshalled into proper order by Alphonse, who always took upon himself to be master of the ceremonies whenever he could get a chance. This was not effected without a vast deal of chattering and confusion; and report says that one or two sounds like "Shan't!" "Shall!" were distinctly heard, followed by what sounded like, and probably was, a slap.

The little train-bearers were especially difficult to manage, owing to their constantly wanting to speak to one or other of their companions in the rear, which inclination occasioned their majesties several unmajestic jerks from behind, and, of course, called forth a sharp reprimand from the majesty so pulled; the only effect of which was a vast deal of giggling amongst the little girls, and the making of droll faces by the little boys.

"Please, queen, Edmund's making a face!" cried a little lady-in-waiting, looking at the culprit and speaking to the queen.

"Oh, you story-teller!" cried Edmund, indignantly. "I ain't."

"I'll box your ears if you do so again, you rude boy," said the queen, turning sharp round on the guilty Edmund. At this threat the urchin made a queer grimace, and then pretended to cry, sobbing out, "Oh, please, queen, don't!"

At length all were got into their proper places, and the procession set out. The king and queen, with their train-bearers, marched first, then strode consequential Master Alphonse, and the rest of the party followed, two and two, all singing a jingling rhyme as they marched, and swinging their nets to the tune. This is what they sang:—

When they came to the dell where most butterflies were to be found they all separated and got their nets ready, whilst Alphonse took a thin switch and gently beat amongst the flowers, which grew in great profusion.

Presently a cloud of large, brilliant butterflies flew up, and the children, shouting, started off in chase of them. The train-bearers were not proof against the excitement of the moment, and, quite forgetting their post of honour, scampered off pell-mell with the rest, leaving their majesties looking rather foolish.

"The rude little things, to run off in that manner!" cried the queen.

"Here, I say, you Alphonse!" shouted the king, forgetting his dignity, "come back! I shan't play if you're going off like that. Come back."

But Alphonse was too busy chasing a brown and gold butterfly to heed King Philip or anybody else.

Just then there flew past an immense butterfly with wings of crimson, black, and gold. Philip immediately forgot all about being a king; away went ball and sceptre, and off he started in full chase. Now the queen loved butterflies no less than the king, so no sooner did she see him take to his heels than she started off in pursuit of the same butterfly.

Away they both went, their trains flying behind them, over hillocks and through bushes, quite regardless of their fine clothing.

The butterfly led them a fine dance; many a time they thought they had got it, but it always managed to fly off just as the extended thumb and finger were about to close upon it. Philip and Pepitia were tired, though by no means inclined to give up the chase, when the butterfly burrowed itself deep into a convolvulus flower that grew on the top of a not very high bank.

"Now we shall have him," cried Philip, as they both scrambled up the bank. But, alack and alas! Pepitia's foot got caught in her long train just as she got to the top of the bank, and down she fell, roly-poly, to the bottom.

Poor Pepitia! she quite forgot she was a queen, and began to cry most lustily, not the less because she could not use her arms to raise herself, for in her tumble she had got so rolled round and round in her train that she could not move her limbs.

Philip ran quickly to her assistance, and soon extricated her from her embarrassment, but as she still continued to cry, he tenderly, for he was a tender-hearted boy, sat her down on a grassy mound and tried to console her.

"What is the matter? Have you hurt yourself, dear?"

But Pepitia only sobbed and sobbed instead of answering, partly because she was hurt, and partly because she was vexed, and the poor little king began to fear she would never leave off crying.

"I wish that Alphonse and the rest would come back," said he, feeling disposed to pick a quarrel with "that" Alphonse when he did come.

(To be concluded.)