Kitabı oku: «Little Johannes», sayfa 2

'There, that is your doing, Johannes! You must not behave so roughly. It is easy enough to see that you were born among men.'

'I am so sorry! Twill do my best. But it was so funny!'

'It will be still funnier,' said Windekind.

They crossed the grass plot and went up the down on the other side. Oof! it was hard walking in the heavy sand; but as soon as Johannes held on to the pale-blue robe he flew upwards, lightly and swiftly. Half-way up there was a rabbit-burrow. The rabbit who lived there was lying with his head and forepaws over the edge. The wild roses were still in bloom, and their sweet, delicate fragrance mingled with that of the thyme which grew on the sand-hill.

Johannes had often seen rabbits pop into their holes, and had wondered what the burrows looked like inside, and how they sat there together, and would they not be stifled?

So he was very glad when he heard his companion ask the rabbit whether they might step in.

'So far as I am concerned, and welcome,' said the rabbit. 'But it most unfortunately happens that I have this very evening lent my burrow for a charitable entertainment, and so am not properly master in my own house.'

'Dear, dear! Has some disaster occurred?'

'Oh, yes!' said the rabbit sadly – 'a terrible misfortune! It will take us years to get over it. About a dozen jumps from here, a man's house has been built, so big, so big! And its men are come to live there with dogs. Seven members of my family have already perished, and three times as many holes have been robbed. The mouse family and the mole tribe have fared no better. Even the toads have suffered. So now we are giving an entertainment for the benefit of the survivors. Every one does what he can; I have lent my burrow. One must find something to spare for one's fellow-creatures.'

The polite rabbit sighed and passed his long ear over his face with his right forepaw, as though to wipe a tear from his eye. It was his pocket-handkerchief. There was a rustling sound in the grass and a fat, heavy body came shuffling up to the hole.

'Look,' said Windekind, 'here comes daddy toad too, all humped up. Well, how are you getting on, old fellow?'

The toad made no reply. He carefully laid an ear of corn neatly wrapped in a dry leaf close to the entrance, and nimbly climbed over the rabbit's back into the hole.

'May we go in?' said Johannes, who was excessively inquisitive. 'I will give something.'

He remembered that he still had a biscuit in his pocket – a little round biscuit, from Huntley and Palmer's. When he took it out he at once observed how much smaller he had grown. He could scarcely grasp it with both hands, and could not understand how his breeches pocket had still held it.

'That is most rare and precious!' cried the rabbit. 'That is a princely donation!'

And he respectfully made way for them to pass. It was dark in the burrow, and Johannes let Windekind lead the way. Soon they saw a pale-green light approaching them. It was a glow-worm, who obligingly offered to light them.

'It promises to be a delightful evening,' said the glow-worm as they went forward. 'There are a great number of guests. You are elves as it seems to me – are you not?' And the glow-worm glanced doubtfully at Johannes as he spoke.

'You may announce us as elves,' replied Windekind.

'Do you know that your king is of the party?' the glow-worm went on.

'Is Oberon here? Well, I am pleased indeed,' cried Windekind. 'He is a personal friend of mine.'

'Oh!' said the glow-worm. 'I did not know that I had the honour – ' and his light almost went out with alarm. 'Yes, his Majesty prefers the outer air as a rule, but he is always to be seen at a beneficent meeting. It will be really a most brilliant affair.'

And so indeed it was. The chief apartment in the rabbit-burrow was beautifully decorated; the floor was patted flat and strewn with scented thyme, and over the entrance a bat hung head downwards. He called out the names of the guests, and at the same time his wings served as curtains – a most economical arrangement. The walls were tastefully lined with dry leaves, cobwebs, and tiny hanging bats. Glowworms innumerable crept between them and over the ceiling, forming a very pretty and twinkling illumination. At the end of this hall stood a throne made of fragments of decayed wood which gave a light of themselves. That was a very pretty sight.

There were a great many guests. Johannes felt very shy in this crowd of strangers, and clung closely to Windekind. He saw wonderful things there. A mole was talking to a field-mouse of the charming effect of the lighting and decorations. Two fat toads sat together in a corner, shaking their heads and lamenting over the persistent drought. A frog tried to walk round the room arm in arm with a lizard; but this was a failure, for he was embarrassed and excited, and now and then made too long a leap, whereby he somewhat damaged the wall decorations.

On the throne sat Oberon, the Elfin King, surrounded by his little train of elves who looked down on the rest of the company with some contempt. The King himself was full of royal condescension, and conversed in the most friendly way with several of the company. He had just arrived from a journey in the East, and wore a strange garment of brightly coloured flower-petals. 'Such flowers do not grow here,' thought Johannes. On his head he had a dark blue flower-cup which still shed a fresh perfume as though it had but just been plucked. In his hand he carried the stamen of a lotus-flower as a sceptre. All the company were struck with silent admiration of his condescension. He had praised the moonlight over the downs, and had said that the glow-worms here were as beautiful as the fire-flies in the East. He had also glanced with approval at the decorations, and a mole had observed that he had nodded his head very graciously.

'Come along,' said Windekind to Johannes. 'I will present you.' And they made their way to the King's throne.

Oberon opened his arms with joy when he saw Windekind, and embraced him. There was a murmur among the guests, and unfriendly glances from the Elfin court. The two fat toads in the corner muttered something about 'flattery' and 'servility' and 'it would not last' – and nodded significantly to each other.

Windekind talked to Oberon for a long time in an unknown language, and then beckoned to Johannes to come forward. 'Shake hands, Johannes,' said the King. 'Windekind's friends are my friends. So far as I can, I will gladly serve you. I will give you a token of our alliance.'

Oberon took a tiny gold key from the chain he wore about his neck and gave it to Johannes, who received it with great respect and clasped it tightly in his hand.

'That key may bring you luck,' the King went on. 'It opens a golden casket which contains a priceless treasure. But where that is I cannot tell you; you must search for it diligently. If you remain good friends with me, and with Windekind, and are steadfast and true, you may very likely succeed.' The Elfin King nodded his handsome head with hearty kindness, and Johannes thanked him, greatly delighted.

Hereupon three frogs, who sat perched on a little cushion of moist moss, began to sing the prelude to a slow waltz, and the couples stood up. Those who did not dance were requested by a green lizard – who acted as master of the ceremonies and who rushed hither and thither very busily – to move into the corners; to the great indignation of the two toads, who complained that they could not see; and then the dancing began. It was very droll at first. Each one danced after his own fashion and naturally imagined that he did it better than any one else. The mice and frogs leaped as high as they could on their hind legs; an old rat spun round so roughly that all the rest had to keep out of his way; and even a fat slug ventured to take a turn with a mole, but soon gave it up, excusing herself by saying that she had a stitch in her side – the real reason was that she could not do it well.

However, the dance went on very gravely and ceremoniously. Every one regarded it as a matter of conscience, and glanced anxiously at the King to see some token of approval on his countenance. But the King was afraid of causing jealousies, and looked quite unmoved. His suite thought it beneath them to dance with the rest.

Johannes had stood among them quite quietly for a long time; but he saw a little toad waltzing with a tall lizard who sometimes lifted the hapless toad so-high above the ground that she described a semicircle in the air, and his amusement burst out in a hearty laugh. What an excitement it caused! The music ceased. The King looked angrily about him. The master of the ceremonies flew in all haste to implore Johannes to behave less frivolously.

'Dancing is a very serious thing,' said he, 'and certainly no subject for laughter. This is a very distinguished party, where people do not dance for amusement. Every one is doing his best and no one expects to be laughed at. It is extremely rude. Besides, this is a mourning feast, on a very melancholy occasion. You must behave suitably, and not as if you were among men and women.'

Johannes was quite alarmed. On every side he met disapproving looks; his intimacy with the King had already made him some enemies. Windekind led him aside.

'We shall do better to go, Johannes,' he whispered. 'You have spoilt it all. Yes, yes; that comes of having been brought up among men.'

They hastily slipped out under the wings of the porter bat, into the dark passage. The glow-worm in waiting attended them to the door.

'Have you been amused?' he asked. 'Did King Oberon speak to you?'

'Oh, yes; it was a beautiful party,' replied Johannes. 'Must you stay here in the dark passage all the time?'

'It is my own free choice,' said the glow-worm in a tone of bitter melancholy. 'I have given up all such vanities.'

'Come,' said Windekind; 'you do not mean that.'

'Indeed I do. Formerly – formerly – there was a time when I too went to banquets, and danced and cared for such frivolities. But now I am crushed by suffering – now-'

And he was so much overcome that his light went out. Fortunately they were close to the opening, and the rabbit, who heard them coming, stood a little on one side so that the moonlight shone in.

As soon as they were outside with the rabbit, Johannes said —

'Tell us your history, Glow-worm.'

'Alas!' sighed the glow-worm,' it is simple and sad. It will not amuse you.'

'Tell it, tell it all the same,' they all cried.

'Well – you all know of course, that we glow-worms are very remarkable creatures. Yes, I believe that no one will venture to dispute that we are the most gifted creatures in existence.'

'Pray why? I do not see that!' said the rabbit.

'Can you give light?' asked the glow-worm contemptuously.

'No, certainly not,' the rabbit was forced to admit.

'Well, we give light! all of us. And we can let it shine or extinguish it at will. Light is the best of nature's gifts, and to give light is the highest function to which a living creature can attain. Can any one now doubt our pre-eminence? Besides, we, the males, have wings and can fly for miles.'

'That I cannot do,' the rabbit humbly owned.

'For the divine gift of light which we possess, all other creatures look up to us; no bird may attack us. One animal alone, the lowest of them all, seeks us out and carries us off. That is man – the vilest monster in creation!'

At this Johannes looked round at Windekind as though he did not understand the meaning of it. But Windekind smiled and nodded to him to say nothing.

'Once I flew gaily about the world like a bright will-o'-the-wisp among the dark bushes. And in a lonely damp meadow, on the bank of a stream, dwelt she whose existence was inseparably bound up with my happiness. She glittered in exquisite emerald green light as she crept among the grass stems, and she entirely possessed my youthful heart. I fluttered round her and did my utmost to attract her attention by changing my light. I gladly perceived that she noticed my salutation and eclipsed her own light. Tremulous with devotion, I was about to fold my wings and drop in ecstasy at the side of my radiant and adored one, when a tremendous noise filled the air. Dark figures were approaching: they were men. I fled in terror. They rushed after me and struck at me with great black tilings, but my wings were swifter than their clumsy legs. – When I returned – '

Here the narrator's voice failed him. It was only after a pause of silent meditation, while his three hearers reverently kept silence, that he went on: 'You have guessed the rest. My gentle bride, the brightest and most sparkling of her kind, had disappeared, carried away by cruel men. The peaceful, moist grass plot was trodden down, and her favourite place by the stream was dark and desolate. I was alone in the world.'

Here the tender-hearted rabbit again used his ear to wipe a tear from his eyes.

'From that night I am an altered creature. I have a horror of all vain amusements. I think only of her whom I have lost, and of the time when I may see her again.'

'What, have you still a hope?' asked the rabbit in surprise.

'I have more than hope; I have assurance. Up there I shall see my beloved once more.'

'But – ' the rabbit put in.

'Rab,' said the glow-worm solemnly, 'I can understand the doubts of those who must feel their way in the dark. But to those who can see with their own eyes! – then all doubt is to me incomprehensible. There!' cried the glow-worm, looking reverently up at the twinkling, starry sky, 'I see them there! All my ancestors, all my friends, – and she among them – they shine up there in still greater radiance than here on earth. Ah! when shall I be released from this lower life and fly to her who twinkles at me so tenderly. When, ah! when?'

The glow-worm turned away with a sigh, and crept back into the dark again.

'Poor fellow!' said the rabbit, 'I hope he may be right.'

'I hope so too,' added Johannes.

'I have my fears,' said Windekind. 'But it was very interesting.'

'Dear Windekind,' Johannes began, 'I am very tired and sleepy.'

'Come close to me, then, and I will cover you with my cloak.'

Windekind took off his blue mantle and spread it over Johannes and himself. So they lay down together in the sweet moss on the down, their arms round each other's necks.

'Your heads lie rather low,' cried the rabbit. 'Will you rest them against me?' And so they did.

'Good-night, mother!' said Windekind to the Moon.

And Johannes shut his hand tight on the little golden key, laid his head on the downy fur of the good-natured rabbit, and slept soundly.

III

'Well, where is he, Presto? Where is your little master then?' How alarming to wake in the boat among the reeds – quite alone – the master vanished entirely! this is something indeed to be frightened at.

And now run about, hunting on all sides with timid little whinings, poor Presto! How could you sleep so soundly as not to notice when your master left the boat? Generally you are wont to wake if only he moves a little. Here – you can see here where your master landed; but now you are on land the track is very much confused. All your busy snuffing is in vain! What a misfortune! The little master gone, quite lost! Seek, Presto, seek him then!

'Look! There, against that low mound just before you – Is there not a little dark figure lying? Look at it closely!'

For a moment the dog stood motionless, looking eagerly into the distance. Then he suddenly stretched out his head and flew as fast as his four slender legs could carry him to the dark object on the mound. And when he found that it really was the little master he had so sorely missed, all his powers were too feeble to express his joy and thankfulness. He wagged his tail, his whole body wriggled with glee, he leaped, barked, yelped, and laid his cold nose against his re-found friend, licking and sniffing all over his face.

'Down, Presto! Go to your basket!' cried Johannes, but half awake. How stupid of master! There was no basket to be seen, look where he might.

Slowly, slowly, light began to dawn on the little sleeper's mind. Presto's sniffing! – he was used to that, every morning. Faint images still floated before his soul, dream-pictures of elves and moonlight, like morning mists over a landscape of sand-hills. He feared that the cold breath of day would waft them away. 'Keep your eyes shut,' said he to himself, 'or you will see the clock against the wall where it always hangs!'

But there was something strange about his bed. He felt that he had no bed-clothes over him. Gently and warily he opened his eyes, just a little way.

Bright daylight. Blue sky. Clouds.

Then Johannes opened his eyes very wide and said: 'Then it was true?'

Yes. He was lying among the sand-hills. The cheerful sunshine warmed him; he breathed the fresh morning air; a filmy mist hung over the woods beyond. He saw the tall beech-tree by the pool, and the roof of his own home rising above the shrubbery. Bees and beetles were buzzing around him, overhead a lark was singing; in the distance he could hear dogs barking and the hum of the neighbouring town. It was all real, beyond a doubt.

What then had he dreamed, and what was true? Where was Windekind? And the rabbit? He saw nothing of either. Only Presto, who sat as close to him as possible and looked at him expectantly.

'Can I have been walking in my sleep?' Johannes murmured softly to himself.

By his side there was a rabbit's burrow; but there were so many in the down. He sat up to see more plainly. What was this in his tightly clasped fingers? A glow flashed through him from head to foot as he opened his hand. In it lay a bright little gold key.

For a few moments he sat silent.

'Presto,' said he then, and the tears almost came into his eyes, 'Presto. Then it was true!'

Presto sprang up, and tried by barking to make his master understand that he was hungry and wanted to go home.

Home? To be sure. Johannes had not thought of that, and he did not particularly care to go. However, he presently heard his name called by loud voices. Then he began to understand that his proceedings would certainly not be regarded as right and satisfactory, and that far from kindly words awaited him on his return.

For a moment he could hardly be sure whether his tears of joy had not, in vexation, turned to tears of fear and contrition; but then he remembered Windekind, who was now his friend, his friend and ally; and the Elfin King's gift; and the splendid, indisputable reality of all that had happened; – and so he made his way homeward calmly, and prepared for whatever might betide.

It fell out as he had anticipated. But he had not imagined that the distress and alarm of the house-hold could be so serious a matter. He must solemnly promise never again to be so naughty and heedless. This quite restored his presence of mind.

'That I cannot promise,' he said very resolutely.

They looked at him in amazement. He was questioned, coaxed, threatened. But he thought of Windekind and was firm. What did he care for punishment so long as he had Windekind for his friend – and what would he not endure for Windekind's sake? He clutched the little key tightly to his breast and shut his mouth firmly, answering every question with a shrug of his shoulders.

'I cannot promise,' was all he replied.

But his father said: 'Leave him in peace; he is quite in earnest about it. Something strange must have happened to him. He will tell us all about it some day.'

Johannes smiled, ate his breakfast in silence, and crept up to his little room. There he nipped off a bit of the blind-cord, slipped it through his precious little key and hung it round his neck next to his breast. Then he very contentedly went to school.

Things went ill with him at school that day. He knew none of his lessons and paid no attention at all. His thoughts were constantly wandering to the pool, and the wonderful things which had happened last evening. He could scarcely believe that a friend of the fairy king's could be expected and required to do sums and conjugate verbs. But it had all been true, and no one there knew anything about it, or would believe it or understand it; not even the master, however cross he might be, calling Johannes an idle little boy in a tone of great contempt. He took the bad marks he had earned with a light heart, and did the task set him as a punishment for his inattention.

'You, none of you understand anything about it. You may scold me as much as you please. I am Windekind's friend, and Windekind is worth more to me than all of you put together. Ay, with the master into the bargain!'

This was not respectful of Johannes. But his estimation of his fellow-creatures had not been raised by all the evil he had heard said of them the evening before.

But, as is often the case, he was not yet wise enough to use his wisdom wisely, or, better still, to keep it to himself.

When the master went on to say that man alone of all creatures was endowed by God with speech, and appointed lord over all other animals, Johannes began to laugh. This cost him a bad mark and serious reproof. And when his next neighbour read the following sentence out of an exercise-book: 'The age of my wilful aunt is great, but not so great as that of the Sun' – parsing 'the Sun' correctly as feminine, Johannes shouted out loudly, correcting him: 'Masculine, masculine!'

Every one laughed excepting the master, who was amazed at such utter stupidity as he thought it, and he desired Johannes to remain in school and write out a hundred times: 'The age of my wilful aunt is great, but not so great as that of the Sun (feminine), and greater still is my arrogant stupidity.'

His school-fellows had departed, and Johannes sat alone writing, in the great empty school-room. The sun shone in brightly, making the dust-motes glitter in its beams, and painting the wall with patches of light which crept round as time went on. The master, too, was gone, slamming the door behind him. Johannes had just got to the fifty-second 'wilful aunt' when a tiny, brisk mouse, with black, beady little eyes and erect ears, came out of the farthest corner of the room and ran noiselessly along by the wall. Johannes kept as still as death, not to scare the pretty little thing; but it was not shy and came close to where he was sitting. It looked sharply about for a minute or two, with its small, bright eyes; then with one spring leaped on to the bench, and with a second on to the desk on which Johannes was writing.

'Well done!' said he half to himself, 'you are a very bold little mouse.'

'I ought to know whom I should be afraid of,' said a wee-wee voice, and the mouse showed his little white teeth as if he were laughing.

Johannes was by this time quite used to marvels; still, this made him open his eyes very wide. Here, in school, in the middle of the day – it was incredible.

'You need not be afraid of me,' said he, very gently for fear of frightening the mouse. 'Did Windekind send you?'

'I am sent to tell you that the master was quite right, and that you thoroughly deserved your extra task.'

'But it was Windekind who told me that the sun was masculine. He said he was his father.'

'Yes; but no one else need know it. What have men to do with that? You must never discuss such delicate matters with men; they are too gross to understand them. Man is an astonishingly perverse and stupid creature that only cares to catch or kill whatever comes within his reach. Of that we mice have ample experience.'

'But why then, little mouse, do you live among men? Why do you not run away to the woods?'

'Oh, that we cannot do now. We are too much accustomed to town living. And so long as we are prudent, and always take care to avoid their traps and their heavy feet, we get on very well among men. Fortunately we are very nimble. The worst of it is, that man ekes out his own slowness by an alliance with the cat; that is a great grievance. But in the woods there are owls and hawks, and we should all be starved. Now, Johannes, mind my advice – here comes the master.'

'Mouse, mouse; do not go away. Ask Windekind what I am to do with my little key. I have tied it round my neck, next my skin. But on Saturday I am tubbed, and I am so afraid that it will be found. Tell me, where can I hide it?'

'Underground, always underground, that is always safest. Shall I keep it for you?'

'No, not here in school.'

'Then bury it out in the sand-hills. I will tell my cousin the field-mouse that he must take care of it.'

'Thank you, little mouse.'

Tramp, tramp! In came the master. While Johannes was dipping his pen the mouse had vanished. The master, who wanted to go home, let Johannes off the other forty-eight lines.

For two days Johannes lived in constant dread. He was kept strictly within sight, and had no opportunity of slipping off to the sand-hills. It was already Friday, and still the precious key was about his neck. The following evening he would inevitably be stripped; the key would be discovered and taken from him – his blood turned cold at the thought. He dared not hide it in the house or garden – no place seemed to him safe enough.

Friday afternoon, and dusk was creeping down! Johannes sat at his bedroom window, gazing with longing at the distance, over the green shrubs in the garden to the downs beyond.

'Windekind, Windekind, help me!' he whispered anxiously.

He heard a soft rustling of wings close at hand, he smelt the scent of lilies of the valley, and suddenly heard the sweet, well-known voice. Windekind sat by him on the window-sill, waving the bells of a lily of the valley on their slender stems.

'Here you are at last!' cried Johannes; 'I have longed for you so much!'

'Come with me, Johannes, we will bury your little key.'

'I cannot,' said Johannes sadly.

But Windekind took him by the hand and he felt himself wafted through the still evening air, as light as the wind-blown down of a dandelion.

'Windekind,' said Johannes, as they floated on, 'I love you so dearly. I believe I would give all the people in the world for you, and Presto into the bargain.'

'And Simon?'

'Oh, Simon does not care whether I love him or not. I believe he thinks it too childish. Simon loves no one but the fish-woman, and that only when he is hungry. Do you think that Simon is a common cat, Windekind?'

'No, formerly he was a man.'

Whrrr – bang! There went a fat cockchafer buzzing against Johannes.

'Can you not look where you are going?' grumbled the cockchafer, 'those Elves fly abroad as though the whole air were theirs by right. That is always the way with idlers who go flitting about for pleasure; those who, like me, are about their business, seeking their food and eating as hard as they can, are pushed out of their road.' And he flew off, scolding loudly.

'Does he think the worse of us because we do not eat?' asked Johannes.

'Yes, that is the way of cockchafers. According to them, the highest duty is to eat a great deal. Shall I tell you the history of a young cockchafer?'

'Ay, do,' said Johannes.

'There was a pretty young cockchafer who had just crept out of the earth. That was a great surprise. For a whole year he had sat waiting in the dark earth, watching for the first warm summer evening. And when he put his head out of the clod, all the greenery, and the waving grass, and the singing-birds quite bewildered him. He had no idea what to be about. He touched the blades of grass with his feelers, spreading them out in a fan. Then he observed that he was a male cockchafer, very handsome in his way, with shining black legs, a large, fat body, and a breastplate that shone like a mirror. As luck would have it, he at once saw, not far off, another cockchafer, not indeed so handsome as himself, but who had come out the day before and who was quite old. Very modestly, being still so young, he crept towards the other.

'What do you want, my friend?' said the second cockchafer rather haughtily, seeing that the other was a youngster, 'do you wish to ask me the way?'

'No, I am obliged to you,' said the younger one civilly, 'but I do not know what I ought to be doing. What is there for cockchafers to do?'

'Dear me,' said the other, 'do not you know that much? Well, I cannot blame you, for I was young myself once. Listen, then, and I will tell you. The principal thing in a cockchafer's life is to eat. Not far from this is a delicious lime-walk which was placed there for us, and it is our duty to eat there as diligently as we can.'

'Who put the lime-walk there?' asked the younger beetle.

'Well, a great being who means very kindly to us. He comes down the Avenue every morning, and those who have eaten most he takes away to a splendid house where a beautiful light shines, and where chafers are all happy together. Those, on the other hand, who, instead of eating, spend the night in flying about are caught by the Bat.'

'What is that?' asked the young one.

'A fearful monster with sharp teeth who comes flying down on us all on a sudden and eats us up with a horrible crunch.

As the chafer spoke they heard a shrill squeak overhead which chilled them to the very marrow.

'Hark! There he is!' cried the elder, 'beware of him, my young friend, and be thankful that I have given you timely warning. You have the whole night before you. Make good use of your time. The less you eat, the greater the risk of the bat's seizing you. And none but those who choose a serious vocation in life ever go to the house where the beautiful light is. Mark that; a serious vocation.'

Then the chafer, who was by a whole day the elder, disappeared among the blades of grass, leaving the other greatly impressed.

'Do you know what a vocation is, Johannes? No? Well, the young chafer did not know. It had something to do with eating – he understood that. But how was he to find the lime-walk? Close at hand stood a slender but stalwart grass-stem, waving softly in the evening air. This he firmly clutched with his six crooked legs. It seemed a long journey up to the top, and very steep. But the cockchafer was determined to reach it. 'This is a vocation!' he thought to himself, and began to climb with much toil. He went but slowly and often slipped back; but he got on, and when at last he found himself on the slender tip, and rocked with its swaying, he felt triumphant and happy. What a view he had from thence! It seemed to him that he could see the whole world. How blissful it was to be surrounded by air on all sides! He eagerly breathed his fill. What a wonderful feeling had come over him! Now he craved to go higher!'