"I am not sure I do see," said the night-violet. "The thing sounds incredible."
"But it is true all the same," answered the mist. "And let me tell you what happened then. The wind carried us for a long way through the air. But all at once it would not do so any more, and let us drop. Down we fell on to the earth as a splashing shower of rain.
The flowers all shut up in a hurry, and the birds crept under cover--except, of course, the ducks and the geese, for, you know, the wetter it is the more they like it. Yes--and the farmer too! He wanted rain so much for his crops, he stood there hugely delighted, and did not in the least mind getting wet. But otherwise we really did make quite a sensation."
"Oh! so you are the rain as well?" said the night-violet. "I must say you have plenty to do."
"Yes, I"m never idle," said the mist.
"All the same, I have not yet heard how you became mist," said the night-violet. "Only, _please_ don"t get into a pa.s.sion again. You know you promised to tell me without my asking you, and I would sooner hear the whole story over again than shiver once more in your horrid, clammy arms."
The mist lay silent and sobbed for a few moments. Then she went on with her story:--
"After I had fallen on the earth as rain, I sank down into the black soil, and was already congratulating myself on soon getting back to my birthplace, the deep underground spring. There, at any rate, one enjoyed peace and had no cares. But, as I was sinking into the ground, the tree roots sucked me up, and I had to wander about for a whole day in the boughs and leaves. They treated me as a beast of burden, I a.s.sure you. All the food that the leaves and flowers needed I had to carry up to them from the roots. It was not till the evening that I managed to get away. When the sun had gone down the flowers and trees all heaved a deep sigh, and I and my sisters flew off in that sigh in the form of bright airy mists. To-night we dance on the meadow. But when the sun rises in the morning we shall turn into those pretty transparent dewdrops which hang from your petals. When you shake us off we shall sink deeper and deeper till we reach the spring we came from--that is, if some root or other does not snap us up on the way.
And so the journey goes on. Down the brook, out into the lake, up into the air, down again to the earth--"
"Stop!" said the night-violet. "If I listen to you any more, I shall become quite sea-sick."
Now the frog began to stir. He stretched his legs, and went down to the ditch to take his morning bath. The birds began to twitter in the wood, and the bellow of the stag echoed amongst the trees. It was on the point of dawn, and here came the sun peeping up over the hill.
"Hullo, what is that?" he said. "What a strange sight! One can"t see one"s hand before one"s face. Wind of the morning! up with you, you sluggard, and drive the foul mists away."
The morning wind came over the meadow, and away went the mists. And at the very same moment the first rays of the sun fell right on the night-violet.
"Heyday!" said the flower. "We have got the sun already, so I had better make haste and shut up. Where in the world has the mist gone to?"
"I am still here," said the dewdrop that hung on its stalk.
But the night-violet shook herself peevishly. "You may stuff up children with that nonsense," she said. "As for me, I don"t believe a word of your whole story. It is as weak as water."
Then the sun laughed and said, "You are quite right _there_!"
THE BEECH AND THE OAK
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BEECH AND THE OAK]
It all happened long, long ago. There were no towns then with houses and streets, and church steeples domineering over everything. There were no schools, for there were not many boys, and those that there were learnt from their father to shoot with the bow and arrow, to hunt the stag in his covert, to kill the bear in order to make clothes out of his skin, and to rub two pieces of wood together till they caught fire. When they knew this perfectly, they had finished their education. There were no railways either, and no cultivated fields, no ships on the sea, no books, for there was n.o.body who could read them.
There was scarcely anything except trees. But trees there were in plenty. They stood everywhere from coast to coast; they saw themselves reflected in all the rivers and lakes, and stretched their mighty boughs up towards heaven. They leaned out over the sh.o.r.e, dipped their boughs in the black fen water, and from the high hills looked out proudly over the land.
They all knew each other, for they belonged to a great family, and were proud of it.
"We are all _oak_ trees," they said. "We own the land, and rule over it."
And they were right. There were only a few human beings there in those days, and those that there were were nothing better than wild animals.
The bear, the wolf, and the fox went out hunting, while the stag grazed by the edge of the fen. The field-mouse sat outside his hole and ate acorns, and the beaver built his artistic houses by the river banks.
One day the bear came trudging along and lay down at full breadth under a great oak tree.
"Are you there again, you robber?" said the oak, and shook a lot of withered leaves down over him.
"You should not squander your leaves, my old friend," said the bear, licking his paws. "That is all the shade you can give against the sun."
"If you are not pleased with me, you can go," answered the oak proudly. "I am lord in the land, and whatever way you look you find my brothers and nothing else."
"True," muttered the bear. "That is just what is so sickening. I have been for a little tour abroad, I may tell you, and am just a little bit spoilt. It was in a land down towards the south--there I took a nap under the beech trees. They are tall, slim trees, not crooked old things like you. And their tops are so dense that the sunbeams cannot creep through them. It was a real pleasure there to take a midday nap, I a.s.sure you."
"Beech trees?" said the oak inquisitively. "What are they?"
"You might well wish you were half as pretty as a beech tree," said the bear. "But I don"t want to chatter any more with you just now. I have had to trot a mile on account of a confounded hunter who struck me on one of my hind legs with an arrow. Now I should like to have a sleep, and perhaps you will be kind enough to leave me at peace, since you cannot give me shade."
The bear stretched himself out and closed his eyes; but he got no sleep _that_ time, for the other trees had heard his story, and they began chattering and talking and rustling their leaves in a way never known in the wood before.
"What on earth can those trees be?" said one of them.
"It is, of course, a mere story; the bear wishes to impose upon us,"
said the other.
"What kind of trees can they be whose leaves sit so close together that the sunbeams cannot creep between them?" asked a little oak, who was listening to what the big ones were talking about.
But by his side stood an old gnarled tree, who gave the little oak a clout on the head with one of his lowest boughs.
"Hold your tongue," he said, "and don"t talk till you have something to talk about. You need none of you believe a word of the bear"s nonsense. I am much taller than you, and I can see far out over the wood. But so far as ever I can see, there is nothing but oak trees."
The little oak was shamefaced, and held his tongue; and the other big trees spoke to one another in low whispers, for they had great respect for the old one.
But the bear got up and rubbed his eyes. "Now you have disturbed my midday nap," he growled angrily, "and I declare that I will have my revenge. When I come back I will bring some beech nuts with me, and I vow you will all turn yellow with jealousy when you see how pretty the new trees are."
Then he made off. But the oaks talked the whole day long one to another about the funny trees he had told them about.
"If they come, I will kill them," said the little oak tree, but directly afterwards he got one on the head from the old oak.
"If they come, you shall treat them politely, you young dog," said he.
"But they will not come."
But in this the old oak was wrong, for they did come.
Towards autumn the bear came back and lay down under the old oak.
"My friends down there wish me to present their compliments," he said, and he picked some funny things out of his s.h.a.ggy coat. "Here you may see what I have for you."
"What is it?" asked the oak.