Part 43

TALE 101

The Fairy Lamps

There was once a little barelegged, brown-limbed boy who spent all his time in the woods. He loved the woods and all that was in them. He used to look, not at the flowers, but deep down into them, and not at the singing bird, but into its eyes, to its little heart; and so he got an insight better than most others, and he quite gave up collecting birds' eggs.

But the woods were full of mysteries. He used to hear little bursts of song, and when he came to the place he could find no bird there. Noises and movements would just escape him. In the woods he saw strange tracks, and one day, at length, he saw a wonderful bird making these very tracks. He had never seen the bird before, and would have thought it a great rarity had he not seen its tracks everywhere. So he learned that the woods were full of beautiful creatures that were skillful and quick to avoid him.

One day, as he passed by a spot for the hundredth time, he found a bird's nest. It must have been there for long, and yet he had not seen it; and so he learned how blind he was, and he exclaimed: "Oh, if only I could see, then I might understand these things! If only I knew! If I could see but for once, how many there are, and how near! If only every bird would wear over its nest this evening a little lamp to show me!"

The sun was down now; but all at once there was a soft light on the path, and in the middle of it the brown boy saw a Little Brown Lady in a long robe, and in her hand a rod.

She smiled pleasantly and said: "Little boy, I am the Fairy of this Woods. I have been watching you for long. I like you. You seem to be different from other boys. Your request shall be granted."

Then she faded away. But at once the whole landscape twinkled over with wonderful little lamps--long lamps, short lamps, red, blue, and green, high and low, doubles, singles, and groups; wherever he looked were lamps--twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, here and everywhere, until the forest shone like the starry sky. He ran to the nearest, yes, a nest; and here and there, each different kind of lamp stood for another kind of nest. A beautiful purple blaze in a low tangle caught his eye. He ran to it, and found a nest he had never seen before. It was full of purple eggs, and there was the rare bird he had seen but once. It was chanting the weird song he had often heard, but never traced. But the eggs were the marvelous things. His old egg-collecting instinct broke out. He reached forth to clutch the wonderful prize, and--in an instant all the lights went out. There was nothing but the black woods about him. Then on the pathway shone again the soft light. It grew brighter, till in the middle of it he saw the Little Brown Lady--the Fairy of the Woods. But she was not smiling now. Her face was stern and sad, as she said: "I fear I set you over-high. I thought you better than the rest. Keep this in mind:

"Who reverence not the lamp of life can never see its light."

Then she faded from his view, and he never saw the lamps again.

TALE 102

The Sweetest Sad Song in the Woods

Once a great American poet was asked which he thought was the sweetest voice in the woods. He said: "The sweetest sound in Nature is the calling of the Screech Owl."

Sometimes, though rarely, it does screech, but the sound it most often makes is the soft mournful song that it sings in the woods at night, especially in the autumn nights.

It seems to be moaning a lament for the falling leaves, a sad good-bye to the dear dying summer.

Last autumn one sat above my head in the dark October woods, and put his little soul into a song that seemed to be

Ohhhh! Ohhhh! The leaves are falling: Ohhhh! Ohhhh! A sad voice calling; Ohhhh! Ohhhh! The Woodbirds flying; Ohhhh! Ohhhh! Sweet summer's dying, Dying, Dying.

Notation by Ann Seton]

A mist came into my eyes as I listened, and yet I thanked him. "Dear voice in the trees, you have said the things I felt, and could not say; but voicing my sadness you have given it wings to fly away."

TALE 103

Springtime, or the Wedding of Maka Ina and El Sol

Oh, that was a stirring, glowing time! All the air, and the underwood seemed throbbed with pleasant murmuring voices. The streams were laughing, the deep pools smiling, as pussy-willows scattered catkins on them from above. The oak trees and the birches put on little glad-hangers, like pennants on a gala ship. The pine trees set up their green candles, one on every big tip-twig. The dandelions made haste to glint the early fields with gold. The song toads and the peepers sang in volleys; the blackbirds wheeled their myriad cohorts in the air, a guard of honour in review. The woodwale drummed. The redbud draped its naked limbs in early festal bloom; and Rumour the pretty liar smiled and spread the news.

All life was smiling with the frank unselfish smile, that tells of pleasure in another's joy.

The love of love is wider than the world. And one who did not know their speech could yet have read in their reflected joy a magnitude of joyful happening, could guess that over two beings of the highest rank, the highest rank of happiness impended.

Yes, all the living world stood still at gaze: the story of the bridegroom, the gracious beauty of the bride were sung, for the wedding day had come. And Mother Carey, she was there, for were they not her peers? And the Evil One--he came, but slunk away, for the blessing of the one Great Oversoul was on them.

Oh, virile, radiant one, El Sol! Oh, Maka Ina! bounteous mother earth, the day of joining hand in hand passed by. The joy is with us yet; renewed each year, when March is three weeks gone. Look, then, ye wanderers in the woods! Seek in the skies, seek in the growing green, but find it mostly in your souls, and sing!

TALE 104

Running the Council