Kitabı oku: «Foxholme Hall, and Other Tales», sayfa 14
How long he slept no one can tell; he never more was seen: but on calm summer nights his pipes can be heard droning under ground, or in the sweet birch wood. From their being heard to this day it is supposed that those who enter the service of the fairies become immortal; but no one has ventured to watch the gambols of the “gude fouk,” so as to ascertain whether it is Alaister himself who still leads their march, or whether another has succeeded him; indeed, the glen is more shunned than ever, and the cave goes by the name of the Piper’s Cave in all that district, while the expression “Piper’s news” is known over the whole world.
Story 9-Chapter I
STORY NINE – The Genius of the Atmosphere
High up on the side of a lofty mountain, overlooking the wide ocean, several boys were seated together on the moss and lichens which clothed the ground, and were the only vegetable productions of that elevated region. The bright sea sparkled in sunshine, far, far down below their feet, though hidden at times from their sight by the dark clouds which came rolling on, sometimes enveloping them in mist, and at others breaking asunder and floating away far inland towards other ranges of distant hills. High above their heads rose a succession of rugged peaks, black, barren, and fantastic in form, which the foot of man had never trod. The boys on a party of pleasure had climbed up from a town by the sea-side, and had brought with them, in knapsacks and baskets, a supply of provisions, which they now sat down to discuss. The keen pure air, and the exercise they had undergone, sharpened their appetites and raised their spirits, and they sat laughing and talking, and apparently enjoying themselves to the utmost. Far below their feet sea-fowl were skimming rapidly through the air, wheeling and circling, now descending to the bright water below, and then rising again up into the clear expanse of ether, rejoicing in their freedom. On a crag below them, near where she had built her nest, stood an osprey. With wings expanding she prepared to take her flight; then off with a cry of joy she flew, darting through the atmosphere, away, away, over the ocean, looking down upon the tall ships which sailed along slow and sluggishly compared to her rapid progress. The boys eagerly watched her till she was lost to sight in the distance.
“Oh, how I wish that I could fly, that I might skim over the world like that sea eagle!” cried one, clapping his hands; “what glorious fun would it not be? I should never consent to walk again. All other amusements would be tame and tasteless in comparison. Truly yes, it mast be a fine thing to be able to fly like a bird. To fly! – to fly! Away! – away!” The speaker as he uttered these words rose and stretched out his arms over the ocean, as if in imagination at all events he was about to spring off from his lofty perch, and to follow the course of the osprey.
His enthusiasm inspired his companions. One after the other exclaimed —
“Yes, indeed, it would be grand to be able to fly. Glorious to mount up into the sky, without having tediously to climb up a hill as we have done to-day; or to plunge down beneath the waves, like those wild fowl; or to skim, as they can, over the crests of the raging seas when storms blow furiously, or to float in sunshine on the calm bosom of the ocean.”
“Ay, of all things I would rather be a bird,” cried another. “An eagle, a hawk, an albatross; any bird which can fly far and swiftly. That is what I should like, – to fly, to fly, to fly!” Thus one after the other they all expressed themselves.
Suddenly, as they were speaking, a loud crashing noise was heard, and as, alarmed, they turned their heads, the rocks behind them opened, disclosing a vast and glittering cavern, out of which was seen slowly to advance, a lady, whose garments shone with a dazzling radiance. Her form was commanding, her face beautiful and benignant. The astonished and bewildered boys scarcely dared to gaze at her; but trembling and holding on to each other, they kept their eyes cost on the ground. She spoke, and her voice reassured them.
“You were all of you just now expressing a wish that you could fly,” she said, in a sweet silvery tone. “Why do you thus with to possess a power for which your All-wise Creator has not designed you? Even could you by any means secure wings to your body, of size sufficient to lift you from the ground, your muscular powers are totally inadequate to work them; your senses are not adapted to the existence of a fast-flying bird; your brain would grow dizzy, your eyes dim, you would be unable to draw breath in the upper regions, through which your ambition would induce you to wing your flight; you would speedily destroy all your other senses. Be content with your lot. Still, if you have a good object for your wishes, perhaps under certain limitations they may be granted. Let me hear why you wish to enjoy the power of flying?”
The boys looked at each other, and then up at the face of the lady, and finding nothing in its calm expression to alarm them, one after the other replied, the eldest speaking first: —
“Because I should like to see what people are doing in the world,” said he; “what nations are fighting with each other, and how the hostile armies are drawn up. I have read of fine processions, where priests walk with their sacred images, when kings come to be crowned, and when their subjects assemble to do them homage.”
“You need not say more,” observed the lady, and pointed to another boy.
“I should like to follow all those ships I see sailing out there,” he answered; “I should like to visit the strange lands to which they are going, and to examine the curious things they bring back.”
“You can accomplish thus much without flying,” answered the lady; and passed on to another boy.
“I should like to fly, because it would be so curious to hover about over cities, to look into houses, and to watch what the inmates are doing,” said the boy.
The lady shook her head. “Such an employment is utterly unworthy of an intelligent being,” she answered; “you would make but an ill use of the power if you possessed it. What have you to urge as a reason for obtaining the power you wish for?” she inquired of a fourth boy.
“Oh! it would be so delightful to feel oneself floating up and down in the air; now rising high, high up like a lark, now skimming along over the smooth sea,” he answered, giving expression to his words by the movement of his body.
“You evidently place the gratification of the senses above the employment of the higher powers of your nature. Such is but a bad claim for the possession of a new one.”
In this manner the lady questioned several other boys, but she did not appear satisfied with any of their replies. At last she asked a slight and thoughtful boy, who had been sitting a little apart from the rest, why he had wished to possess the power of flying?
“That I may better comprehend the glories of nature, and understand what now appear the mysteries of the universe,” he answered quietly, yet promptly; “whence the rains, and mists, and winds come, and whither they go. I would fly far away on the wings of the wind. I would visit distant lands, to observe their conformation, to discover new territories fit for the habitation of man. I would bear messages of comfort and consolation from those in one place to relatives far away. Oh! if I could fly, I am certain that I should never weary of the work I had to do.”
“Well and wisely answered,” replied the lady. “I am the Genius of the Atmosphere. The power you ask I cannot give you: but follow me; I may be able to afford you some of the gratification you so laudably desire.”
The boy, without hesitation, followed the lady towards the rock from which she had emerged. It closed round him, and he found himself in a cavern of vast size, and glittering with gems of every hue, and of the richest water. The Genius cast on him a smiling look, when she saw that his attention was but little engrossed by these appearances.
“I cannot enable you to fly,” she remarked, “but I can render you invisible, and bear you with me whither I go, even to the uttermost parts of the earth. Come, note well what you see. You may never again have the some opportunity of observing the wonders of nature.”
As the Genius spoke, the boy found himself borne buoyantly from off the earth. He passed close by his companions, who were thoughtlessly laughing and talking as before, and on he rapidly floated, they neither observing him nor the Genius of the Atmosphere.
“Child of Earth, follow me,” said the Genius; and the boy floated gently on, till he found himself in a region of perfect calms. Below him, as he looked towards the earth, he saw mountains of snow, and fields of ice glittering gloriously in the slanting rays of the sun.
“We are at the north-pole of the earth,” said the Genius; “you desire to know the course of the winds, and how they are created – observe and learn.” As she spoke, she shook from her robes a shower of silvery particles, which floated buoyantly in the air. “See, at this point the silvery cloud does not partake of the diurnal motion of the globe, but a slight current of air, scarcely perceptible, is sending it forward. We will follow it towards the southern pole. You can scarcely see the earth, we are so high up. Lower down are currents rushing towards the pole, which would impede the progress of this silvery cloud.”
On, on, on, rapidly the Genius flew. A golden cloud appeared. The two clouds met, but so softly, that there was no commotion. Attracted by the globe, probably, they both descended, slowly followed by the Genius and the boy, till once more the earth appeared in sight, clothed with the palm-tree, the orange, the pomegranate, the vine, and numberless tropical fruits and flowers.
“We have reached a calm region, the tropic of Cancer,” said the Genius. “Now watch the earth. It is turning from west to east, while we move on in the direct line in which we started, so that we appear to be crossing the globe diagonally, and to the inhabitants of the earth that silvery cloud appears to be coming from the north-east, and going to the south-west. That silvery cloud is merely a portion, made visible to your eye, of a great mass of air, which is continually blowing, and which the inhabitants of the earth, from the facilities it affords their commerce, call the north-east trade-wind. Now see a golden cloud approaching us; that is a mass of air coming from the southern pole. We are arriving near the Equator. See, the two clouds meet. They have an equal impetus; neither can give way, but, gently and noiselessly pressed together, they rise to a higher stratum of the atmosphere.”
On floated the boy and his guide, far up above the globe, still on, in rather a less direct line than before, till again a golden cloud was met, and gently that, and the cloud they followed, descended till the earth was seen once more.
“We have reached the tropic of Capricorn, where these two opposing currents form a calm, almost continuous, except when certain interposing causes break it, and which I may hereafter explain to you.” Passing out of the calm region, away they floated towards the southern pole.
“Remark,” observed the Genius. “The silvery cloud, having been pressed down by that other current from above, has a south-eastern direction given to it, and therefore appears to the people on earth to be coming, not from the north, but from the north-west.”
A wide extent of ocean was seen beneath their feet. On they floated. Then fields of ice and icebergs, and wide extended lands covered with snow, and vast mountains of ice. Once more they moved on, slowly as before.
“We are at the antarctic pole,” said the Genius. “See, our cloud of silver meets another of gold, pressing gently.” Up, up, they mount. “Once more we will move towards the tropic of Capricorn, high up above the globe. Now we descend in that calm region; and now close to the earth we are moving on. But see, coming from the southern pole, the globe moves as before, from west to east; and thus this mass of air, of which our silvery cloud, remember, is but a portion, seems to those on the earth to be coming from the south-east. As this wind is always blowing, and as ships by getting within its influence are borne easily forward, and it thus facilitates commerce, it is called the south-east trade-wind.”
On they went, till again the calms of the equator were reached, or rather, till the air, exhausted by its long course, met another gentle current, and the two pressing together rose upwards, the silvery cloud going on towards the tropic of Cancer, till forced by another current, known by its golden hue, to descend, it went on close to the earth towards the northern pole, where a calm, caused by another gentle current meeting it, was created. Gently pressed up, however, the silvery cloud finally reached the higher region, whence the Genius and the boy had started with it on its long journey.
“Had we started with the golden cloud, or rather with the mass of air which that cloud represents, from the southern pole, we should have seen precisely the same effects produced,” said the Genius. “You now understand what mortals call the theory of the trade-winds. You read in the sacred word of God, which in his mercy and goodness he gave to men to guide them in their passage through life, that, ‘The wind goeth toward the south, and turneth about unto the north; it whirleth about continually, and the wind returneth again according to his circuits’ (Eccles. i. 6). Now, boy, you have seen how true and beautiful is that account written by the wise king of Israel.” The boy listened attentively. “We will fly back to the equatorial calms,” said the Genius; “see what effect the direct rays of the sun have on the earth, or that portion of its surface. They affect the air likewise; heat expands it, and then makes it rise; and it also changes its specific gravity. Cold contracts it, and also changes its specific gravity. These two causes are unceasingly at work to produce the currents of air whose courses we have been observing. The heat of the sun at the equator expands the air, and thus it rises and flows north and south; having arrived once more at the tropics, owing to the counter current it meets, it descends, as we saw, and flowing along near the earth, receives from it a rotatory motion, which increases as it approaches the pole, where, contracted by the cold, it masses into a dense body, and ultimately is whirled upwards, forming an ascending column, when it once more commences its never-ceasing journey.”
As they flew towards the mountain whence they set out, the boy expressed his thanks to the Genius; if he did not comprehend all that she had shown him and told him, he knew more about the matter than he had before done. She saw by the expression of his countenance the gratification he had enjoyed. “’Tis well,” she continued; “as a drop of water is to the ocean which lies beneath us, so is the knowledge you may obtain in a lifetime to the wonders nature has to reveal. You desire to know more; gladly will I show you more. Whenever you climb up to this rocky height I will meet you, as I have done to-day, and each time unfold new wonders to your view. Ah, you think that I might descend to you, without making you toil up the mountain; but know that knowledge will not come to you; you must exert yourself, you must labour to attain it. You say that you will willingly climb the height. That is well. That is the spirit which ensures success. Return to your companions. They will not have missed you.”
Suddenly the boy found himself as he had been before, sitting a little apart from his friends. He was silent and thoughtful as he descended the mountain, resolving to return as soon as possible, to learn from the Genius more of the wondrous mysteries of nature.
Story 10-Chapter I
STORY TEN – A Terrible Blanket
Well, we were on the continent when I met with my terrible blanket. We were going up one of the passes on foot, and somehow I, as I usually do, lagged behind. I, of course, had an Alpine stock in my hand, and I went swinging it away, until at last it struck against a lump of rock overhanging a precipice, so deep that, sailor as I am, I trembled as I looked down. Well, the stick bounded from the granite against my shin, and so I made a vow that the lump of granite should take a run, or my name was not Theophilus.
But it was a tough job, for the stone was very big, and well set in the rock; but after a deal of straining and pushing, down it went with dull thuds, as it fell from rock to rock, and at last it splashed into the water, which seethed up as though trying to get at and drown me.
The job must have taken me longer than I thought for, for when I looked before me I could see no one, and as I looked I began to see that twilight was coming on.
Now, I don’t know whether you have been much among our own high hills in Scotland or Wales; but, if you have, you must know how rapidly night comes on. It is day one moment and night the next, so to speak.
Now I knew this, and made haste forward.
I do not think I had gone twenty yards when I knew, by the great wuthering sound about me, that a storm was brewing, and it was on me in no time; and as the snow came down a great curtain seemed to be drawn over the sky, it grew dark so quickly.
Well, I groped on, but I didn’t like it. If it had been a storm at sea now, I should not have cared much; if the mountains about me had only been of water, I should not have cared at all; but when I knew that a false step might send me toppling down as the rock had toppled before me, I don’t mind owning that I grew to like it all less and less.
I stooped down to look at the path, as well as I was able in the little remaining light, and I found I was in no path at all.
As the last rays of light died out, and as the snow whirled about me, I remember, as though it would be glad to make my winding-sheet, I turned cautiously towards a slope of rock, feeling with my stick before I took a step, for the snow will fill up a crevice in no time, and you may sink twenty feet before you know where you are; and at last I touched the rock.
There was still an atom of light left, and by it I just discerned a black part of the rock, which I took, and rightly, to be a cave. So I crept towards it, into it, and crouched down on the ground to leeward; and I can tell you the wind was getting up.
Well, I hadn’t lain there three minutes when it was as dark as you could wish it. I don’t know whether any of you have ever been in the dark when full of anxiety; but if you have, you will believe me when I say every precious minute seemed an hour.
Suddenly I thought of my fusee-box, and I believe shouted as I thought of it, for a second idea came into my head. Suppose I struck the fusees about one a minute, they would not only help me through the darkness, but, luck willing, they might answer the purpose of a revolving light, and guide those who were looking for me to my place of shelter, or the light might be seen at the convent, from which I knew by the guide we were not far when I stopped to upset the rock.
And I give you my honest word that not for one second did I feel any ill-will against my companions for leaving me behind; I somehow knew it was all right.
So out came the fusee-box, and the next moment I had struck a light. Why I looked round the cave I can’t tell, but I did, and I caught my breath, as you may suppose, when away in the dark I saw two great yellowish-green balls of fire.
I don’t think I moved for a moment, and then I began to question myself as to whether it was not all fancy.
So I thought I would strike another light; but the box had fallen amongst the snow, and when I felt for the matches they were all mixed up with the powder, which is about the only name you can give the snow in those places; it is very different from the clammy snow we see here.
Now, what was I to do? If I went out of the cavern I should be frozen to death, while to remain in the cave, and near those dreadful lights, was maddening.
Well, one way or the other, I determined not to go either backwards or forwards; so I curled myself up as small as possible, and lay shivering. I had only lain for what I now know to be a very short time, but which I took to be hours, when something soft came up against my knees and elbows.
You may believe I dashed out my fist, and felt it sink a foot deep in the soft snow, which I rightly guessed had drifted up against the opposite side of the cavern till it fell over and rolled up against me.
Good, so I was being snowed up, and I saw I must either go nearer those dreadful balls, which by this time I was sure were no fancy, and which I felt certain were looking towards me through the darkness, or I must stay where I was to be buried alive.
I don’t know how I came to the decision; but I did at last decide to go further into the cavern, and so I shuffled out of the way of the snow.
And then I lay still again, waiting.
In a moment or so, surrounded by danger as I was, I began to find myself actually going quietly to sleep. I had no idea then that that sleep might have been the sleep of death.
Well, in another minute or so, I felt a warm air on my face; but I was too sleepy to move, and so I lay still.
And then, believe me I do not exaggerate, I felt four weights press, one after the other, upon my body, and then a soft, heavy weight sunk down upon me. I had no doubt it was an animal of some kind; I felt quite sure of this when a muzzle was placed as near my mouth as possible.
I dare say you will hardly believe it, but in a few moments all my fear had gone, and I found myself growing grateful to this creature, for he made me so good a blanket that the heat came back into my body, and I felt no longer that dull sleepiness of which I have spoken.
I do not at all know how long I had thus lain, when a bark was heard, which disturbed the regular breathings of my hairy friend, and I felt his big heart beat above me. Again there was a bark, the broad loud bark of a big dog, and it sounded much nearer than the first.
As my blanket heard it, he uttered a harsh sound, and leapt from off my back.
The barking and the start of the animal roused me from what drowsiness still remained in me, and the next moment I was plunging through the snow in the entrance to the cave. It was above my head. I was nearly snowed up; but then the wall of snow had served to keep the cold out. When I got through the snow, I found the whole mountains were light again with the stars and the rising moon, for the storm was over.
But a more blessed sight than all was that of a brave, big dog, who leapt upon me and placed a fore-paw upon each of my shoulders.
Not far off was one of the good monks, coming towards me graciously and smilingly.
It seemed, I learnt afterwards, that when my party discovered my loss, and affrightedly told the guide, he, being weatherwise, told of the coming storm, and said it would be impossible to turn back; they might think themselves fortunate if they reached the convent themselves, when the monks and their dogs would do their best for me.
They had reached the convent just as the storm began, and the monks, it seemed, had but little hope for me.
I shall pass over my arrival at the monastery. I was welcomed so kindly that I would not attempt to describe it, and as for my own party, you might, have supposed they had not seen me for a year.
They were very willing to hear my adventures, but when I came to the two balls of fire, and the heavy animal who had made himself my blanket, they ventured to laugh out and say I was trying to impose a traveller’s tale on them.
They were still laughing when my eyes fell on my great-coat, which was hanging on a chair, and I at once remarked a number of yellowish brown hairs clinging to it.
This was proof positive, and I was more of a hero than ever.
The next morning, when all of us travellers assembled for our simple breakfast, the young monk who had discovered me – and whom I still look up to, and I am glad he and his companions live high up in the mountains above us all – the young monk had a tale to tell. Out of curiosity he had gone down to the cave, which was a very little way from the convent, and in it he had found an immense wolf frozen and stark dead, for the cold of the night had been intense.
And I am not afraid to tell you that I felt very sorry the poor old wolf was dead, and I don’t think you will think any the worse of me for being sorry.
I went down myself to see the poor old fellow, and I declare he looked as large as a calf; as for his fangs, I do think they would have gone through a deal board.
Well, and now how do you think I am going to end the story?
Why, I’ve got the old fellow now.
Oh no; he was really frozen to death, and didn’t come to life again; but I begged his body of the monks, had him skinned there and then, brought the skin home and had it stuffed; and I can tell you when I come into the room where he has a berth, and the sun is shining on his glass eyes, I often find myself giving a start, as if he were still alive and able to eat me up.
