LADIES' COLUMN.

Timaru Herald, Volume LXXVIII, Issue 11998, 21 February 1903, Page 3 (Supplement)

LADIES' COLUMN.

(By HOY ROLFE GILSOX.)'

THE GOOD FAIRY.

Some people say there are no fairies any more ; others laugh scornfully, and say there never were any except in story -books; but as for me, I shake my head at such light talking. I would not laugh at fairies, not I. and if others do it, let them beware, that is all. Did I not see a fairs- with mv own eyes when I was a. little boy? Why) she smiled .it me and kissed me—l was just vour age then, and a dear child like you, and manypeople kissed me, and liked it, in those days. She smiled and kissed me, the fairy did, and spoke to me, and her voice was the sweetest you ever heard, as soft and low as the wind in summer. And she sang to me too, and when she sang . But there are no words beautiful enough to tell you how she sang. You may laugh, if you please, and you need not listen to my story, but I tell you again that-1 saw the fairy," as plain as day, with my own eyes, and heard her, and vou had only to look once at her to know that she was one of the good fairies who love little children, and you had only to listen once to her singing to know thai she loved you most of all. I ;un not the only one who has seen the good fairies. Many children see them every day, but do not know them. You may see one a thousand times, and even love her, and never guess who she is. Sometimes, years afterwards, when you are grown up and have little children of your own, it comes to you that it was a good fairy who smiled and sang so lovingly to you in the long bright days of your playing, and then you would give the world to see her smiles and hear her songs again. _ There was a child once . But listen! Yon must know first that the most wonderful thing about the good fairies is this: they always know when a little child is going to be born—they know it even before the stork does—and when one of them finds it out, she takes fine linen, soft and white (some say she takes the moon-beams, warm and silvery with summer-time), and fine white threads she takes, like those that blow agaanst your face sometimes in the greenwood, and buttons like little pearls that live in shells in the bottom of the sea. Then she sits by the window and threads her shining needle, and sews and sings, and now and then she stops and looks through the window-pane to see the little boys and girls go by. They do not know that the . Good Fairy is watching them, fuey are so busy with their play. Some day, when you , pass a window, if you look up quickly, you may see her sitting there, and rf you smile and nod at her or wave your hand, the Good Fairy will smile and nod back to you, and look and look at you till you are out of

sight. Then she will take up her work again; and sometime*, as she sits there with her face bent low over the white

linen, the tears will fall upon it in her lap. But oftener she will smile to herself, softly, as she sits and sews by the window with her needle flashing in the sun, and then, I tell you, the sound of her gleaming scissors, as they cut the linen, i* like a song to her.

And when the babv comes, there are its

fair white dresses all made for it by the Good Fairy, and all just big enough "for its littleness—for babies do not bring their clothes with them when they come from where they come from, you know.

Well, when the child I spoke of camt — a child all soft and little, with toes that wriggled, and risks that it tried to swallow but could not, and eyes that blinked—the Good Fairy said it was a. pretty child, and loved it, and all day long she sat and played with it, and talked to it in the language of the good fairies, which is spoken softly; and she sang to it: " Bye-low, Baby Bunting," and "Rock-a-bye, Baby, on the Treetop." and " Tra-la-la." " ' .

You know that song, that " Tra-la-la." I do not remember the name of it, but it is a very,sweet song, and you can sing it so many different ways. It is a sort of folksong, I believe.

All day long the Good Fairy sang to the little child, and in the night, when it woke and cried, she came in a robe all white and shining and hushed it. From the dark

shadows where she had been sleeping she would steal up softly to its crib, and rock it to and fro, to and fro, croaning the "Rock-a-bye" song or the "Tra-la-la." And the child would hear the music comin« <>ut of the darkness, and would stop its crv° ing to listen, and so re would fall asleep again. Then the good Fairy's hand would leave the cradle, and she would vanish, in her white robe, into the midnight shadows, but you could not hear her going, she stepped so softlv.

Xight after night she would do that, even in the long cold nights of winter, when all out-doors was white with snow] and the wind howled and moaned and rattled the window-panes. They were fearful nights sometimes, and the" whole house shook with terror of the wind. Then, in the coldest, middlest hour, the child would wake and hear the tempest and cry, and no matter how the gale whistled, " and the house creaked, the Good Fain- would hear the child's voice, and come to it, stealing out of the shadows in her white robe to rock its crib and hush it with lullabies Once the child fell ill, and all night long the Good Fairy sat there by its crib in the flickering candle-light, and watched it, and hushed it, and gave it medicine from a silver spoon. They said it would die before the morning came, and the Good Fairy cried at that; but in the night, as she sat there all alone by the crib, she kept savin" to herself, under her breath, "It shall" get well."

And so she sat there, keeping back the tears, and laying her cool hand now and then on the child's flushed cheek, and vowin* to save it, all through the long nMit with only the ticking of the clock tq keep he: company. Xever a wink of sleep did she take till mornin-: came, orange and gold, in the eastern sky, and the child was sleeping and she knew it would not die. That is another wonderful thing about the good fairies. They do not sleep or eat. and they never seem to wearv. somehow when a child they love is ill. It is because they ar« fairies. I suppose. Day and night the chad was watched and loved by the good fairv. Xo wonder, then, that it grew and grew till it could crawl on its hands and knees, till it could toddle from chair to chair, till bv-and-by it could run through the whole house without thinking of its le-s at all, and laugh and lisp, and even sing a littW of that sou<' of the Good Fairy—that "Tra-la-la."

Then the Good Fain- was happiest. Xo matter where the child went, .-he was somewhere near. When it ran out of doors in the golden glow of a summer mornine with a sun-bonnet on its curls, the Good Fairv wotild be watciiing it from some window while it chased the butterflies and mackpies in the sand, and the child would plav and play .by itself, and make up little stories and little songs and never kuow of those fairv eves.

Once there was just such a summer morning, and the child was playing in the sun. A little breeze climbed over the garden wall and stole softly around the corner of the house where the hollyhocks were pink and white and full of honey-bees. The wind was only a little wind, like the child, and e:>me to [day with it. First it crept across the gra.-s and kissed the child on both its cheeks and on its red lips and played with its long curls. Then the child smiled and flung a. leaf at the wind, and the wind caught it and threw it back again, and the child laughed. And so they played together, flinging back and forth the green leaf, till tli'-y sank, breathless, in the glass. The child yawned. Its head grew heavy. Lcwer and lower it drooped till ono cheek lay where the gras* v U! softest, and all hko a little wood, with the ants runtime in and out like men. And before they knew it th.->v were sleeping side by the little child and the, littl« wind. "Dearie!" called the Good Fairy, for she

knew all the love words. There was no answer.

"Darling, where are rou?" she called agam.

Still no answer.

"Where is the child? - ' asked the Good *airy to herself, wondering and half afraid. Up and down the yard she went, and out to the street, and back again to the garden till by-and-by she came to the hollyhocks, pink and white and full of honeybees.

" Sweetheart!" she called. Just then the little wind woke up and heard Seeing the Good Fairy's anxious face, it lifted a string of the child's sunbonnet and waved it, so that the Fairy

Why, Baby," cried the good fairv, smiling and stealing up to where the child lay curled and sleeping in the grass with its cheek on its little hand. She lifted it in her arms. She. carried it into the house and laid if on its white bed. So it was always m those days—the child playing and sleeping, and the Good Fairy watching it and carrying it in her arms. When the year was old with days and white with snow it was the Good' Fairy who asked the child, "What do vou want lor Christmas Y' "I'd wike a new.dollv." Then the child's ej>i grew wider and wider, till they almost saw a dolly kangiug on a green tree. "And what else would vou like?" "I'd wike a red sled."" •'And is that all " "Xo; I'd wike a yittle wooliv lamb." Then, when the child was sleeping, the Good Fairy would go to Santa Claus. " Well?" said Santa, making room for her on the aim of his chair, for thev were great friends. She would go and sit there wiui her arm about his ueck, and her soft cheek next to kis jolly one, and Santa would say, "Well, Christmas is coming." " 1 es, that is so." "What would'you like';" "11 Oh, I do* not want anything "—for she was a f ai ry, you see. So she would shake her head and say: "Xo, never mind me. But—" "But the child," Santa would guess before she could deny it. Then she would'sroile. " Yes," she would say, • the child. Ifc talks of nothing but Christmas all day long." "And what does it ° van*?" Santa, would ask. Ihen the Good Fairy wouft make her mouth little, and her eves big, and her voice whispery, and she would sav, as though it were the child who said it." " I'd wike a new dolly, and a red sled, and a yittle woolly lamb." "Ho! ho!" Santa would crv, chuckling: "a yittle woolly lamb!" "

" , S , h ! , . Xofc so louJ I" ti»e Good Fairy would whisper, for Santa's voice was very big at the top. J ■' A yittk- woolly lamb." Santa would chuckle to himself, more softlv. "Well we'll see." ' ' And when Christinas Eve came, and the green tree was beautiful with candv angels and twinkling stars, the child would clap its hands with joy. For, lo! there on the floor beneath the lowest branches would be a red sled with shining runners, and close beside it a new doll, whose hair was golden, and whose eyes were blue. The child would take the doll into its arms, and hold the sled-rope in its hands.

" But look at the tree, darling," the Good Fain- would whisper. Then the child would raise its eyes to the Christmas candles. A smile " would light up its face: "My yittle lamb!" For there it would be hanging among the branches, all white and' woollv, and when they took it down, "My vrttle woollv lamb,' the child would crv again, laughing and holding it tightly in its hands ; and the lamb would say, "Baal" All this time", mind you, the child never dreamed that it was a Good Fairy who eared for it.

"Are there any fairies in our yardV" it asked, when summer came again." You may be sure the Good Fairy would laugh at that. 6

" Yes," she replied, "I think so."

The child did not say amy more. It went out into the yard with its eyes round. It went into the garden, looking over its shoulder now and then to see if a fairy followed it. It stole softly up to the hollyhocks, and peeped into their cups, pink and white, but found no fairies there, only humniing bees. It shook the last roses of the summer-time, but ouly dew fell in a little shower on the garden path. The pink phlox was sweet as honey, but not with fairies. So the child's eyes "lost their roundness, and its mouth dropped, and it sat disconsolate in- its little red chair. For a Ion:; time it sat thew with its face between its hands, and wished and wished. It grew lonesome by-aud-by, waiting so long there in the garden, where there were birds and butterflies flying, but no fairies. Suddenly its mouth twisted and its eyes filled with tears. For a moment its eyes cried softly, then its voice cried too, so that the Good Fairy heard and came to it with, outstretched arms.

" My darling !'' she said. The child put up its little hands. " The—f-fairy—w -won't come to r—me!"

She lifted the child and kiised it

' Don't cry," she said, smiling to herself. " Maybe the fairy will come some other day."

"But I want the fairy n-now.'' '" Would you know a fairy if you saw one, dear?" "Yes." "What would she look like? Tell me." " Why—l d-don't know.".

Then the Good Faiiry laughed. She could not help it, for the." child never dreamed it was crying for a fairy in a fairy's arms. You see, when we are children they tell us fairies all have wings like angels and butterflies. That is the sfcorv-book kind, and though I have looked and looked and wished aaid wished for them, like the little child, I have never yet seen one, though I do not doubt they are somewhere near. But tho kind of fairies I am telling you about have no wings at all, and so we do not dream that they are fairies, and go on looking and listening for the gleam and whir of coloured wings. In the lap of the Good Fairy sat the little child. It was not crying now, but listening, with big, bright "«yes—listening to a fairy tale. You will think it strange that a fairy should tell a fairy story, but it happens every day.

'■Once upon a time,'" the Good Fairy was saying—"once upon a time there was a fairv. . . "

Everyone knows that story of the fairy who had wings like au angel 'and who loved who had wings like au angel and who loved like that song of the. '• Tra-larla " it runs so many different ways ; but it alwavs begins "Once upon a time," in that good old fashion of fairy tales. Grave and sweet was the face of the Good Fairy as she told her storv. Low and tender was her voice. Her arms held the child warmly. Her cheek pressed softlv against ks cheek. Her eves—oh. you should have seen the softness of her eves, and their gleaming. The child was listening to the storv of the other fairy and the other little child—listening aud wondering and looking at those flowers called the Golden Glow. Tall and straight and green are the stalks of i,°ri 7T '• tbo W°»*°ins at the top artall like httie suns, au .J the big sun runs its Maim bright lingers lovinglv through their yellow curls.

lire flowers rocked a little in the breeze, the fairy ; s story rocked a little in her soft voice—and stopped. Tbe child' roused itself.

"Is that all?" it asketL '•"ies. that is all." The child thought;, moment ..f that other little child. ••And did the augcl fairv love I lie liitle chiid always';'' it asked '"Yes, she loved it alwais '"How much did th* lev- it—.-. <i,ou-;>"d bushels ';" "Oh, more than that >hc loved it " "How much, then?" The Good Fairy held (he child tighter in

her arms and kissed it on its cheeks and on its eyea and on its red mouth. "As much as Mother loves you." .she said.