CHILDREN'S CORNER.

Evening Post, Volume LIV, Issue 152, 24 December 1897, Page 3 (Supplement)

CHILDREN'S CORNER.

*- Dorothy's Adventures. I. " Early one morning, Nellie, a little girl shabbily attired, stood gazing at a confectioner's window in one of the principal West End streets of London. She was a pretty child, but wan and sad-eyed beyond her years, which were not more than ton. Early as it was, traffic was rapidly increasing ; 'buses, waggons, and cabs rattling past in quick succession. One of the latter, its' top laden with baggage, stopped at the confeotioner's, and a lady alighting caught sight of the child, started as though surprised and enquired her name, but, apparently unable to wait for an answer, hastily entered the shop. In the cab sat a gentleman reading, and a little girl of ten, who no sooner caught sight of Nollie than she sprang out towards her and pressed a bright new shilling into her hand, entreating her also to go in and buy cakes. They were mutually attracted towards each other, and; Dorothy, for such was the other child's name, thopght she had never seen such beautiful grey eyes as those she saw before her then. ' What is your name, dear ? ' she asked. 1 You are like a picture we have at home.' ' My name is Nellie,' breathed the other, gazing admiringly at the pretty little lady in her trim summer raiment. Dorothy smiled, and pressed her new friend's hand. 'Mine is Dorothy,' she said, and reentered the cab just as her v mother, laden with bulging paper bags, appeared, and in another moment Nellie stood alone. She walked on thoughtfully, posted a letter, and made her way back to a small foreign cafi in a sido street, in the kitchen of which she slaved from morn till eve under the tyrannical eye of its mistress. For she had lost.her mother, poor chdd, and her father had placed her her& for a paltry sum in wages which 'he colleotod weekly for his own pocket. The little baby sister, whom the mother in dying had placed in Nellie's arms, imploring her never to part with, he had handed over to the doubtful care of a woman who made a living out of babyfarming alone, and no words or tears of Nellie's had been sufficient to alter his determination. Poor Nellie! Her nights were troubled by dreams, in some of which her mother would appeal*, reproaching her for parting with the child. Meanwhile the oab had deposited Dorothy and her father and mother safely at Charing Cross Station, and a few minutes afterwards they were settled with bags and baggage in a train which would rapidly bear them seawards. It was a third-class carriage in which they sat, and Dorothy,, was thinking that this -was one;. of the many things which were not <Font to be. Why were they not travelling first- class, and why were not rooms ordered beforehand at the hotel by telegraph, instead of having to search for private apartments on their arrival at Folkhurst? And,' as if in answer to these thoughts, the very subject of them was brought up by her father, who suddenly took her mother's hand and stroked it tenderly. 'If only my patent is successful, Clare,' he said, 'we shall be safe again, with no need to give up our present home and the comforts it has always been my happiness to surround you with. Fifteen thousand is a great sum of money to lose all at once, as we have, but I have great hopes, very great hopes of the invention.' 1 Did you see a child outside the confectioner's ?' presently asked the lady. ' Hor fadfc* haunts me. It was the very counterpart of that water-colour drawing of my sister Nellie as a child. I wonder what has become of Nellie all these eleven years.' ' Still in California, no doubt. I am afraid, poor girl, that she has already regretted her marriage with that reckless man.' ' Yes, indeed, poor Nellie ! I shall never forget the shock it v was when she left with him for America. I trust she is happier than my fears suggest ; but something tells me that we shall never see her again.' 11. Dorothy sat on the golden sands, by the sunlit sea at Folkhurst. She was out by herself for a good day's ramble in the warren amongst the wilderness of broken rocks, shrubs, pools, and gleaming chalk paths winding mysteriously round ragged cliff sides, sometimes so narrow that only the steps of elves and goblins would seem to find foothold there ; then again appearing like a thin white thread hundreds of feet high, they would disappear above the summit. There were caves, too, in the face of the cliff, caves high up and difficult to reach, and foil™ could still be found in the old town of Folkhurst who told strange tales of tho warren at midnight, and who would describe weird and wonderful sights that had been seen by those' who lingered looking at the caverns after sunset, a thing which the natives of Folkhurst very rarely did, knowing that daylight was preferable to darkness for tracing a backward path, for, except in the summer season, when one occasionally came across a party picnicking, it was a wild and desolate spot, rapidly giving way to the encroachments of the sea. Dorothy had heard some of these whisperings, and, ever eager after the mysterious, she could scarcely rest until she had investigated the matter for herself ; so, after sitting on the sand and gazing up at the cares so long that she seemed to have taken root there for ever, she ate her remaining sandwich, threw the little bag to the ground, and deliberately began climb- i ing up towards them. How she got up is perhaps butter imagined than described, but suffice it to say that at the end of a good hour she found herself, scratched, bruised, but triumphant, at the entrance to a large cave. But how dark it looked. What ! had she climbed up only to be frightened at last by the darkness ? No ! She boldly attacked the entrance, when suddenly, a soft hand stole into hers, and, while a silvery voice whispered to her not to be afraid, drew her round an angle into a large chamber of rock, illumined by a tender, mysterious light. Here Dorothy turned to look at her companion, and saw that she was very lovely, tall, and robed in shadowy grey. She wore a silver band round her brow, in front of which gleamed a large opal. 'Who are you?' questioned Dorothy, recovering herself, and the other smiled brightly. ' I am only Phftsma,' she replied, ' and I waited for you.' 'It was very kind of you, dear Phasma,' gaid Dorothy. 'Is there anybody elae up here?' 'Look." Dorothy turned, and saw across the cave three more figures, fantastic and beautiful. 'These are spirits who control some of the wonders of the earth,' said Phasma. • See, on the right stands Fairy Cyole. All the world is excited about her. She is continually putting new ideas into people's brains, and if she does not stop soon, I do not know where it will end. Then, there on tho left is Fairy Motor. She has created a great stir, too, but nothing like that of her sister. Between you and me, I consider Bhe is rather a failure. However, Hhe looks extremely thoughtful, and must be determining upon something new. You oan guess, of course, that the centre form is Fairy Electric. See tho star upon her brow ! It would take too long to toll you all that she has done, but, wonderful as she has been, she has not ended yet. Ah ! Fairy Steam now approaches ; she, as you must know, ii not so young as the others.' Dorothy thought her goddess-like, as she gazed into those large serious eyes and upon that noble brow banded with hjJavy gold. It was almost impossible to see the face of Fuiry Electric beneath that blnzin^ star, though nothing could outshine the brilliancy ol her eyes, which were gazing

straight out before her, a world of wonderful possibilities iv their depths. But now fresh troops of fairies danced into the caye — fairies of all descriptions, styles, and ages— and they frisked around in a fantastic fairy dance, their robes of samite and gossamer floating aud curling about their graceful forms, making strange shapes and shadows iv the rosy light. Dorothy clapped her hands with delight, and a great longing to joiu iv the frantic dance; but Fhasma laid a light finger upon her arm to turn her attention "elsewhere. ' See ! ' she said. ' Yonder comes Fairy Camera, who has lately become very grand indeed. Had she practised her cunniog a century or two back, I don't know how many mortals would not have been burnt as wizards. Fairy Phonograph is olose behind ; the same applies to her. I expect they will soon both be leaving us for one of the planets. That is Fairy Torpedo. Sho looks very angry, but that is because her sister is so close behind her. They are very bad friends. Fairy Torpedo will never forgive her for showing a mortal how to make a torpedo-boat destroyer! But who is this? See, mortal child, and think upou what you have this day seen. Yonder approaches one who is not one of us. It is the Spirit of the North Polo ! ' Dorolhy looked, and saw a form of dazzling whiteness, in robes of white starred with glittering icicles and jewels of the unknown. Around her brow there glowed an aureole of purple, yellow, and red — a wonder of colour, now soft, now brilliant, now -almost lost, as though fanned by a sudden breeze; and returning again wholly purple, to dissolve gently into amber and rose, ever shifting in wondrous fantasy. The face beneath was cold and proud, with slumbrous blue eyes, that looked out straight with a cruel calm. ' Many are those who have sought me, but noDe have found me yet,' she said, and waved one snowy arm around. ' They lie about my footstool, ever appealing to me with their frozen eyes. I see them, though they lie under the snow, the heroes who came, but found me not. None shall come unto me but one— the one who shall dare, who has dared, yet knew not that I guarded him from the graves about my feet. Is there no one to tell him the secret ? Have I come from the Polo in vain ? ' | She turned, and throwing around her the ! long folds of her glittering mantle, swept into tho shadows, and was seen no more. 'She has returned to the North, murmured a tall fairy, as she passed-noiselessly through the cave ; and Dorothy, looking at her, saw that her face, though sweet, was very sad— so sad, indeed, that she longed I to reach up to the lovely pale face and kiss it. 'She has killed many of her lovers,' ■•whispered Phasuia. ' She has ene .great, wonderful idea, and nobody in the world can understand her. Those who sometimes think they do are sure to discover^ sooner or later, that they do not; and then those whose minds are weakest go mad, or kill themselves with despair, and it makes her sad.' I But will no one ever understand her ? ' asked Dorothy. ' Oh, yes ! some day ; then she will have a name. Until then she is nameless, as, indeed, we all have been once ; ' and Phasma laughed, than sighed, and Dorothy took her delicate hand and said, 'Dearest Phasma, you have been very, very kind to me. Will you show me now the fairy who gave my father an idea for his invention ? I heurd him telling mother that he hoped it would bring back the money he has lost. I dqn.'t Know what it is, but will it ? ' I 1 cannot say, but I will take you to the fairy you mean.' And Dorothy felt herself led further into the cave, where a pretty little sprite, with wide child -like eyes, sat perched upon a fallen rock. Beautiful emerald wings sprang from her shoulders, and they were fluttering in time to the tattoo of her tiny naked foot upon the ground. ' How do you do, Dorothy P ' she cried, then laughed, adding, 'lam so happy ! so happy ! ' ' What makes you happy P ' enquired Dorothy. The pretty elf stared at her in astonishment. 'You — you, of all people, to ask me that ! ' she said. ' Haven't I made somebody understand me — a little thing like me?' ' But who understands you ? ' Dorothy asked. Then all in a moment sho knew. It was her father. * The sun is setting ! ' a hundred voices seemed to cry out, and the fairy sprang to her feet. ' Oh ! but tell me, fairy dear, will my father be successful with the thought you have given him ? ' cried Dorothy, throwing out a detaining hand ; but the little sprite pirouetted on one tiny foot, and, winding a length of floating gossamer round her, tipped her head roguishly sideways and laughed. ' You shall know on Christmas morning,' she said, and danced away to join her elfin companions. Dorothy looked after her regretfully. ' I shall so long for Christmas morning,' she sighed. ' Set store by the time thnt is passing ! ' cried Phasma, and she suddenly whirled tho little girl in among tho dancers, where she was instantly carried round and round by the throng. Curiously, too, she found herself performing with them," and going through such forms and ceremonies of dancing as she never had in her wildest thoughts hoped to do. Up she whisked, twirled in mid-air, and alighted like a butterfly on a ledge of rock quite seven feet from the ground. Theu down again she leapt to make a circuit of tbo cave in one continuous fantastic evolution. What had come over her? Had she become a fairy herself? Had wings sprouted from her shoulders? No matter —no matter what it was ; it was glorious. Oh ! how light she was ! Not a fairy there who could flit more gracefully than she. How often had she gazed in admiration at the children in the street as they danced in their ragged boots to the music of the afcreet-orgau ! Why, only the day before she had tried to imitate the same steps in the bedroom of her lodgings, alas ! to dismally fail, and not only that, but the landlady had Bent up to say that the people underneath objected to the bumping ' A<nd now here she was danciug with the ease and grace of the fairies themselves. ' The sun is set.' What was that? Who called? Ah! a sudden darkness, a hasty fluttering of wings, and Dorothy is left high upon a ledge frith the sudden and positive knowledge that she was of the earth earthy once more. ' Ob, Fhasma ! Phasma ! ' she ciied in terror. 1 1 am here,' the voice of Phasma replied. ' I have been with you all the time. Take my hand, and do not fear.' And Dorothy felt herself olinging to the form of Phasma as together they floated through the cave and out into the waning light of day. Phasma set her down at the foot of the cliff, where instantly a great weariness overcame her, aud she fell backwards into the yielding grass. ' Furewell ! ' murmured Phasma, when almost instantly there came v noise like thunder, a crashing and rumbling, followed by shrieks of fear, while a hand pulled Dorothy roughly to her feet and dragged her hurriedly from the spot where she had lain. She was surrounded by people. 'Good gracious, child,' cried a woman, the one who had so roughly awakened her, ' what are you doing here at this time oi day? It is fortunate for you we were passing back so lute, or nobody knows what might have happened to you. Sec how the cliff has fallen whore the cave: used to bo ! You might have been killed, Come along with us, and we will sco you home to your mother. How the cliff hat fallen ! ' 111. Skating on the ice on Christmas Evo. I(

there anything quite to equal it ? Round the skaters glide with glowing faces and renewed youth, the young, the middleaged, and the old ; joy, laughter, and the season's happiness upon every face. And amidst the throng none so gay and bright as our little Dorothy, as, wrapped in warm furs and with a 'scarlet quill in her hat, sho skilfully manoeuvred her way at last to the side of the lake. But there she stood still suddenly, staring away from her companions, her crimson lips parted, and her breath coming in. short gasps with surprise and emotion. Then, stooping, she hastily removed her skates and ran over the crisp snow to where stood a little girl holding in her arms a baby muffled in a long cloak. ' Nellie, Nellie ! don't you remember me ? ' she cried. 'Yes, 1 she said, 'you are Dorothy.' 'And the little baby, Nellie, whose is UP' 'It is mine ; my mother gave her to me ; and this morning there came a wonderful thing—a fairy — into my room, and she told me to get up quickly and go into a 'bus up the street, a green one, and to get out when I felt I must. So I did, I paid with that bright new shilling you gave me, and I found my baby. A woman had her to mind, but she left her alone all day, and gave her something to keep her asleep. Another woman told me. See, she won't wake up ! She won't wake up ! ' ' Don't cry, dear,' said Dorothy. ' Let us take her to mother. Our home is not far. Mother always knows what to do.' And Dorothy urged Nellie across the park, chatting excitedly as they went, and ten minutes afterwards was dragging her into the house, past the astonished servant, and into the dining-room, where the mother sat. She sprang up as the two entered, and with a startled exclamation caught Nellie and the baby in her arms, as the former, with closed eyes, Bwayed giddily forward. 'Ring the bell, Dorothy,' she paid hastily ; ' the poor child has fainted. Toll me nothing at present. Here, take the baby and put it on the hearth-rug. Morris,' as the servant entered, ' get some cold water and the brandy, and toll Emmalene to fetch the baby, put it in a hot bath, and wrap it in a blanket.' While issuing these orders she placed Nellie upon the couch and was charing her hands, gazing the while with growing recognition into the little pale face. 'See, Morris,' she said, as the maid reentered, ' she is recovering a little alroady. Help me to loosen her clothes. There is a cord round her neck — take it off. A locket, is it ? A portrait ! Oh, heavens !it is that of my sister— my own sister Ne.lie ! ' Christmas morning broke white and fair, and tho glad" sun shono on uo happier household than Dorothy's, henceforth to be the home also of Nellie and her baby Bister. i ' You have brought us luck, my little new daughters,' said the father, shaking an open letter over the table towards Nellie. 'No Booner do you arrive than somebody sends a communication which I have been long expecting, full of good news. You are our littlo Mascotte ! ' 'Oh, father,' cried Dorothy, gleefully, 'I know what it is. The fairy — your fairy — told me we should know on Christmas morning ; so that shows it wasn't a dream, and that I did climb up.' But her father only laughed, nor did he contradict her, as he had so often done before. Perhaps it had struck him as not altogether impossible that, though fairies do not appear to fathers and mothers, it is no proof they do not sometimes appear to their children.— Fanny Railton, in the Lady's Pictorial.