The Fairy Nightcaps Part 2

When the family were all comfortably settled, the splendid palace-like steamboat--the Alida--started from the pier, and was soon gliding so swiftly over the water, that the magnificent Palisades rose in the blue evening air, while the golden glory of sunset was still lingering upon them. Charley sat by his mother, with his curly head pressed close against her breast; his pure and simple thoughts mirrored in his sweet face. He was silently thanking G.o.d for the beautiful changing picture before his eyes. All the children were enjoying the trip; for their mother had taught them to feel and appreciate the beauty, goodness, and grandeur of all G.o.d's works; and, save an exclamation of delight now and then, they sat quite still.

But the silence did not last long. Of course not. If children are quite still for more than five minutes at a time, you may be sure they are either sick or in mischief; so presently George exclaimed,--

"Just see that sea-gull dipping his wings in the river!"

"That's the way he does his was.h.i.+ng," said Annie.

"Oh! look at that row-boat," cried Harry; "four gentlemen and three ladies rowing with parasols."

How the children laughed, and pretended to see the parasols rowing, till Harry explained that he meant that the ladies had the parasols, and the gentlemen were rowing. His mother said she would have to give him a dish of boiled grammar for his breakfast, if he did not mind his antecedents better.

"Grammar!" cried George; "dreadful! Aren't you all glad school-days are over for the summer?"

At this blissful recollection all the children clapped their hands at such a rate, that a fat old lady jumped up in a hurry and gave a queer little squeak, because she thought the boiler was bursting; and although they were now in the very middle of the broad Tappaan Sea, she waddled off to order the captain to set her immediately on sh.o.r.e; and a select company of blue jays, who had just started from the Palisades to take tea with some brown sparrows on the other side, turned somersets and flew back again, almost tripping each other up in their hurry.

"Yes, indeed," answered Annie, "glad enough. Just think; no more hard sums either. I do believe arithmetic is meant on purpose to torment us, and that's the reason Willie made that mistake with such a grave face, when the lady asked him how far he had gotten in his sums."

"So it is," cried Clara; "Willie said he had got to _dis_traction; I, for one, wish that all the people that make the arithmetic books had to eat them with pepper-sauce the moment they were printed--and that would be the end of them."

"But compositions! Just think of compositions!" cried Harry; "they are the most hateful things. Just because I wrote in my last one, that 'a mule is a beast of burden which draws a rail-car shaped like a zebra, and is sometimes used for carts with two long ears and a miserable tail,' they all burst out laughing at me, and I very nearly cried--I _did_ cry."

"Well, never mind, Harry," cried George; "it is all over now, and we are going to that delightful West Point: I wonder if those soldiers we saw parading with the j.a.panese last Sat.u.r.day came from West Point?

they were such splendid fellows."

"Yes, indeed," cried Harry; "I dare say they did; they looked as if they were afraid of nothing, but would be really glad to have an arm or a leg shot off in every battle, and are so brave, that they would keep on fighting the enemies of America, if they had only an ear and one great-toe left."

Charley lifted his head and laughed at this, for he could hear all the children were saying; and he whispered to his mother, "Isn't Harry a funny fellow? The idea of one ear, and a great-toe firing a gun!" and he laughed again a sweet, low laugh; and Clara, who was sitting nearest, took his small thin white hand and kissed it, and patted it, and murmured, "Oh, Charley, I'm so glad you are happy; I'm so glad that cruel pain has gone away."

All this time they had been pa.s.sing many beautiful villages and elegant country mansions, half buried in luxuriant foliage. They were now leaving the Tappaan Sea; and soon after the little mother showed the children Sunnyside, the lovely home of the great Was.h.i.+ngton Irving.

"He does not live there any more," said she; "his home is now 'Eternal in the Heavens;' but his fame, and goodness, and renown will live in every land for many, many years; and I hope the beautiful Sunnyside will never fall into neglect or decay as long as his memory lasts."

The children looked with mournful interest at the beautiful place; but when their mother pointed out the spot where Major Andre was captured, there was quite a difference of opinion; the boys were glad that he, the spy, was taken and hung by the great Was.h.i.+ngton, while the more tender-hearted girls wished he could have escaped: and Minnie said, "General _Wa.s.singter_ ought to have forgiven him, because he would not like to be hung himself--would he?" which, _I_ think, was _the golden-rule way_ of putting the case.

And now the banks seemed to close in, and great dark mountains rose on either side.

"There's Anthony's nose," said the little mother.

"Where? where?" cried the children, and looked with eager interest, as the profile of a great Roman nose was pointed out on the edge of a mountain. They were also delighted with Sugar-loaf Mountain, and wished it had really been made of sugar, for they thought they would like to eat a hole through it. As they were eagerly gazing at the splendid view which had now darkened and deepened with twilight shadows, a saucy puff of wind came round a jutting point, and in an instant blew off Minnie's round hat.

"Oh! my hat! my hat!" she screamed; "get it! get it! quick! before it goes across the Atlantic Ocean, and runs up the big mountains. Oh! get it! get it!"

How everybody around did laugh, as George jumped after the hat, which Minnie thought would walk on the Atlantic Ocean; and how Minnie jumped and laughed when he caught it just as it was flying off on its travels. I have no words to tell, but everybody after that listened to the comical talk of the Nightcap children, who caused so much merriment, that they arrived at West Point before they knew it; but had to burst out with laughter again as Minnie, gravely looking up, said, "Is this West Point? Well, I don't think it looks so very, _very_ Pointy."

The first stars were peeping out, and the little birds had sung their evening hymns and were hushed into stillness, as the children got into the stage, the strong horses of which toiled up the short but steep ascent, and they soon arrived at their summer home. "Oh, what a beautiful cottage!" exclaimed Harry, and George, and Clara; "it seems covered with roses; it must be the Castle of Perfect Happiness."

They all hurried in, in the most delightful bustle; and the children had a grand time a.s.sisting the little mother to unpack every thing.

You would have imagined, to look in at the windows, that the house was full of fishes out of water; they kept up such a continual bouncing and fluttering about, but they were not fishes, nor pollywogs, nor tadpoles, nor any thing like them; they were a company of capering children, taking all sorts of little boxes and bundles out of trunks, and putting them in the wrong places, and then running to get some more, because they liked the fun of _helping_.

The good-natured little mother did not think them at all in the way: she only laughed softly to herself, and would not for forty new bandboxes have given them any _ear_-boxes for what they were doing.

No, indeed! she just let them trot about as much as they liked with the pillows, boxes, bags, and bundles, of which there seemed to be about a hundred and fifty; and when they were tired of _helping_, she quietly arranged the things in their proper places.

Oh! how soundly the children slept that night with the "fragrant stillness" all around them, far away from the roar and whirl of the great city. The moonlight, sweet and mournful, flooded the earth, and a white ray stole into the room where Charley lay and rested lovingly above his head.

The next day Charley was very ill indeed. Even the short journey from the city had overtasked his strength. He lay in a darkened chamber, for his mother had to shut out the sweet suns.h.i.+ne, his head and side were so racked with pain.

The children crept lovingly up to the door of the room they were not permitted to enter many times during the day; to hope in a whisper that he felt better, and went about the pretty cottage on tip-toe--all their merriment gone. You would hardly believe they were the same children that yesterday had kept half the people in the steamboat laughing; so changed and still were they become, through their love for their sick brother.

The little mother sent for the doctor. He belonged to the army, and, of course dressed like the officers in military uniform.

When he entered, the children gazed with wonder and delight upon his bright b.u.t.tons, each of which had an astonis.h.i.+ng spread-eagle engraved upon it, and thought they could never admire enough the beautiful gold lace upon his coat-sleeves. Really, he was quite a s.h.i.+ning doctor.

He became interested with Charley at once: the sweet, patient smile of the suffering boy won his heart.

"My dear madam," said he to the little mother, "this is nothing but temporary exhaustion; with some strengthening medicine which I shall leave, and a good night's rest, our dear little friend will be as well as he was before he came up; and I am in great hopes that this bracing mountain air will soon make him much better than he was before he came."

The children now approached the door and begged leave to enter, for they wanted to hear about Charley, and have a "_good look_" at the "soldier doctor."

"Well, my little friends," said he, in a hearty, cheery voice, "so you've come up, I suppose, to help the fairies amuse Charley this summer."

"FAIRIES!" exclaimed the children; "DELIGHTFUL! Are there _fairies_ here?"

"Lots of them," answered the doctor, laughing--"_that is_, if I may believe my man, Patrick O'Neal. He declares he has seen the fairy rings in the beautiful hollow at the foot of Crow Nest mountain many and many a time."

"Oh dear! how perfect!" cried the children; "only fancy the dear little fairies dancing on the parade-ground in the moonlight."

"Not exactly," said the doctor, laughing again; "fairies don't come so near the haunts of mortals; besides, the cadets want the parade-ground for their own dances and rings--not fairy rings--for those are made with sparkling dew-drops, while the cadets have to content themselves with tallow candles stuck into scooped-out turnips and placed in a circle, and the lights throwing the shadows up, make the long legs of the cadets look like ever so many great goblin black spiders, hopping harem-scarem over each other; but the cadets call them 'Stag-dances.'"

"_Stag dances_," cried the children, "who ever heard of such a thing?

Why! do they nail antlers on their foreheads and go on all-fours? Dear doctor! how _do_ they go?"

"Some on their heels, and some on their toes; but _I_ never saw one dance on all-fours; and, as to the antlers, _without_ them they prance: 'tis because they're all _boys_, that it's called a 'stag dance.'"

"Why, only listen," whispered George to Annie, "he is talking poetry--how queer!"

"Isn't he a nice bright doctor?" said Minnie; "he s.h.i.+nes so s.h.i.+ny, and he's so very _b.u.t.tony_; I think his b.u.t.tons are splendid."

The doctor heard this speech and burst out laughing, and then seeing that Minnie looked abashed, he took out his penknife, and in a moment had snipt off one of the spread-eagle b.u.t.tons, and said,--"Here, little lady-bird--here is a bright b.u.t.ton, which you can fasten up your cloak with to-night when you go to the fairies' midsummer ball; for, I suppose, you will all have an invitation, and when I come to-morrow, I expect to hear all about it. Good-bye, Charley; old fellows like you and I don't care to go to b.a.l.l.s, but we won't object to hearing about the fairy festival, because that you know will be something particularly superfine;" and he went away smiling, leaving the delighted children chattering like a perfect army of magpies about the fairies, and pretending to think that the good-natured doctor was really in earnest.

THE FAIRIES' LIFE.

It was Midsummer eve; the moon in regal splendor proudly sailed above; the fair, lovely June flowers were sleeping, fanned by the wings of the tiny zephyrs floating past. A spell of enchantment was upon every thing, for a deep stillness reigned around; the little brown cricket had ceased to chirp; the katydid no longer quarrelled in shrill tones with her neighbor; the wail of the sad whippoorwill was hushed; the rugged sides of old Crow Nest were rounded and softened in the silvery moonbeams, adown which the little brooklet sprang this night with a more lightsome leap and a sweeter song.

Charley lay sleeping in his room, his cheek resting on his hand, and his golden curls lightly stirred by the soft west wind, were floating upon the pillow: a faint flush rested upon his sweet face, giving it a lovely, but, alas! deceptive hue of health; his lips were slightly apart, and now they were moving as if he was softly and slowly answering some question.