CHAPTER V.

How is it that the faithful hound succeeds in finding his way back to his master’s house, from a distance of many miles, and through a country which he has never been permitted to see? How is it that the carrier-pigeon, when loosed from the bag in which it has been confined, mounts up into the air, makes one brief circuit, and then pursues his way, through an unknown region, in a straight line homeward? Mysteries these, which the more we attempt to investigate them, the more do they bewilder us, and, in the attempt to elucidate which, the learned and the ignorant are alike at fault.

However, our daily experience of the fact that such things are, at once removes any antecedent improbability which might otherwise suggest itself to the sceptical, when it is mentioned that Witikind, though transformed into a hare, found little difficulty in discovering his route to Taubennest. Had he been even a hare only, his instinct would probably have guided him in the right direction; but being a sharp-witted boy, as well as a hare, there seems little cause for wonder in the matter. The circumstance most worthy of remark is, that he should have performed his journey of many hundred miles in the course of a single night. The spells of the Lady Abracadabra had secured him from the perils of huntsmen and hounds; but how had she bestowed upon him such marvellous speed of foot? The sun was setting, as we know, when the son of Count Rudolf received his unexpected dismissal from the Court of King Katzekopf: ere the moon had risen, the towers and cupolas of the city scarce broke the line of the distant horizon: by midnight, a distance which, to the ordinary traveller, would have been equivalent to a six-days’ journey, had been mastered, and when the chilliness of the first grey dawn refreshed the heated frame of the breathless quadruped, the giant forms of his own loved mountains were looming dim and indistinct in the shadowy distance. What was it that gave to Witikind the speed of the winged wind? Was it solely the boon of his patroness? or was it not the magic of deep affection,—of filial and fraternal love, and the spells of _home_—which infused into his tender frame a vigour with which even the supernatural gifts of Fairy-land would have been unable to inspire him?

“Over the mountains, And over the waves, Under the fountains, And under the graves; Over floods that are deepest, Which Neptune obey; Over rocks that are steepest, Love will find out the way.

“Where there is no place For the glow-worm to lie; Where there is no space For receipt of a fly; Where the midge dares not venture, Lest herself fast she lay; If Love come, he will enter, And soon find out his way.”

And thus it was that Love urged Witikind on his way, and inspired him to task to the uttermost the extraordinary powers with which he had been endowed. No loiterer, nor lingerer was he; “he stay’d not for brake, and he stopp’d not for stone,” till the turrets of his happy home at Taubennest caught his eyes, glittering in the brightness of the morning sun.

But Taubennest, whatever it might be in his imagination, had scarce deserved the name of _happy_ Taubennest, since the day he quitted it. It was not that his sisters had not had many a pleasant walk, and played at many a merry game together, during his absence. It was not that no smiles had ever lightened his mother’s brow of care. Things had gone on much in their usual course; a year (for it was no more) of separation had not wrought many obvious changes, save that Count Rudolf’s health was declining; disappointed hopes, and ungratified ambition are worse diseases than fever or consumption, and they were wearing his life away. Countess Ermengarde had spent many days in calm content, and in active usefulness, and these things bring their reward of peace with them. The little girls had not lost the gaiety of disposition which is natural to their years, and their minds were in a process of training, which is sure to produce a happy temper. So Taubennest seemed to the friends of the family the same bright joyous scene as ever.

And yet they who watched closely, would see a tear falling at times, from the mother’s eye, or mark that now and then an involuntary sigh would escape from her. And they who looked for it might observe, that ever and anon some game was laid aside by the children, because _two_ felt that they could find no pleasure in it, when the _third_, who had been used to join in it, was absent. And walks were chosen, because they had been favourites with some one who was no longer of the party. And every thing that awakened an association of this description was most dearly prized. Surely they did not err who deemed that at such seasons Witikind was foremost in his mother’s and his sisters’ thoughts.

“I wonder,” said Veronica to Ediltrudis, “whether we shall find the rosebud blown this morning. Mamma said she thought it would not be out for three days. What a pity he planted such a late-flowering rose in his garden. It would have been such a nice present for Mamma on his birthday.”

“Dear Witikind!” exclaimed Ediltrudis, “how few besides himself would ever have thought of such a delicate attention to Mamma, as his choice of that tree involved! ‘What kind of rose shall we plant against the trellis which surrounds your garden?’ asked the gardener. ‘Shall it be the blush-moss from Candahar? it is the choicest rose grown; but I have a promise of one for you, if you wish it.’ ‘No, Florian, that will not suit me, unless it be the latest, as well as the choicest rose that grows. I do not care for a rose that I can gather when roses are in plenty; you must find one for me that will be in flower when all others are gone. You know how the Countess loves flowers. I want to be able to provide her with a nosegay, when nobody else can do so.’”

“Ah!” replied Veronica, “that was just like Witikind. A more affectionate heart than his never beat. How I hope we shall find one of his buds in flower! It is quite too soon to expect it; but that was a chance cluster which we observed yesterday, and, perhaps, one of the buds may be far enough advanced by this time. If it be open ever so little, I would gather it for Mamma.”

“How I wish some good Fairy would touch the buds with her wand, and provide us each with a full-blown rose; one for Mamma; one for you; and one for me.”

“Nay,” said Veronica, “I shall be satisfied if only a few petals of that single bud be open. I shall hail it as a good omen that we shall have Witikind himself among us before the year is over.”

“What a fanciful notion!” answered Ediltrudis, laughing. “There is no end to your romantic imaginations. Now, I confess that, for my part, I shall be quite surprised if I find that——why look here!” she suddenly exclaimed, as, being a little in advance of her sister, she caught the first glimpse of the rose-tree. “Look here, Veronica; make haste, make haste, a Fairy must have been here.”

“How very extraordinary!” cried the child, running up. “Four full-blown roses on this cluster! And yet, when we were here yesterday, there was but one bud at all advanced, and the others were tiny, tiny things, which I thought would not be in bloom for months to come! You may say what you will, Ediltrudis, but this _must_ be a good omen. There is not only a rose for Mamma, and for each of us, but one for Papa likewise.”

“You forget that Papa does not care for flowers.”

“Ah, poor Papa, the smell is too strong for his head now; but, perhaps, he would not dislike a rose if he knew it was gathered from Witikind’s tree.”

Ediltrudis shook her head.

“But what if it should be for Witikind himself?” cried Veronica with eagerness, as so pleasant a thought struck her. “Depend upon it, this is a token that Witikind will be here before long, to gather his own roses!”

“I hope you don’t mean to leave these ungathered till he comes. Why, if you don’t cut them now, they will shed their leaves with the noon-day heat. You are not hesitating about gathering them, surely, Veronica?”

“Why I don’t know what to think,” replied Veronica doubtfully. “Suppose we wait till we come in from our walk.”

“Nonsense!” said Ediltrudis; “lend me your knife, and let us carry them in to Mamma at once.”

“Very well,” answered Veronica; “only let me tie up this clove-gilliflower first. How sadly,” she continued, “its leaves have been eaten. I wish we could keep those tiresome hares out.”

“It won’t be easy to do that while they are as bold as they are at present. See there! there is one coming now to the bed, though we are standing here. I wonder what people mean by talking of timid hares. I am sure here they are as bold as lions. Sh! sh! get away with you!” cried Ediltrudis, clapping her hands, and making a noise which was likely to have put any ordinary hare to flight.

But the little animal made no attempt to retrace his steps.

“Sh! sh!” cried Ediltrudis once more; and taking up a pebble, made as though she was about to throw it.

“Nay,” said Veronica, “do not hurt it. See how weary the poor creature looks; how faint and breathless; and how soiled is its fur! It has been hunted, and has fled here for succour. Come here, poor thing. I will protect you!”

The animal approached Veronica, and crouched at her feet. “Get some water, Ediltrudis! it is going to die; I am sure it is; its eyes look so dim and glassy.”

Ediltrudis ran to a fountain close at hand, and brought some water in a shell which lay at its side. Veronica stooped down to place the water within reach of the exhausted animal, and, as she did so, she was about to pat it gently; but no sooner did her hand light upon its head, than a shock like that from an electric battery, ran through her frame, and made her start violently. Before she could recover herself, the hare had disappeared, and Witikind was in his sisters’ arms.

For a time, the children were too much overwhelmed with terror and amazement, to be able to speak. Veronica would have fainted, but for the timely supply of water which was close at hand; and even when she came to herself, she could not persuade herself that she was not dreaming. But there was something too hearty in the embraces of Witikind, and his kisses were altogether too vehement to have come from Dreamland. Briefly, but clearly, he made them acquainted with the events which had befallen him, and when, by degrees, they began to comprehend the reality of what they saw, he sent them into the castle, to prepare the Countess for his arrival.

Poor children! it was an arduous task. The excess of their joy made them as timid and afraid to speak, as excess of sorrow might have done. However, the roses helped them, and, as it were, prepared the mother’s mind for some unexpected intelligence of her boy; for, in those days, people thought more about the unseen world, and the interference of spiritual beings in men’s affairs, than they do now. And so, at length, the Countess Ermengarde, and the other inhabitants of Taubennest, were brought to understand that Witikind was once more among them.

Oh! how vain it were to attempt to describe the scene which then ensued!—

“Eager steps the threshold pressing; Open’d arms in haste advancing; Joyful looks through blind tears glancing; The gladsome bounding of his aged hound, Say he in truth is here! our long, long lost is found.”

The reader’s imagination must delineate to him the ecstatic joy of that meeting; how embrace followed embrace, and a thousand questions were put to him, ere Witikind had time to answer ten: how Count Rudolf, having first forgotten his ambitious schemes, in the joy of seeing his son, soon began to express his belief that the Lady Abracadabra had mismanaged things shockingly; that she was a Fairy without either talent or discrimination; that she ought not to have allowed the boy to quit the palace till she had secured a handsome pension for him; and that it was quite inexcusable of her to allow a child of Witikind’s high rank to return home in the form of a hare, and to be liable to be barked at by every village cur; how Witikind poured forth his regrets that he had ever been selfish enough to desire to leave his home; how ardently he hoped that all he had gone through had cured him of some of his worst faults; how useful a lesson he had been taught; how truly he appreciated the blessing of a home; and how earnestly he trusted that his future life would be spent in doing good to his neighbours and dependants at Taubennest.

“I have seen enough,” said he, “young as I am, to cure me of ambition. I would rather pass my days in retirement here, striving to benefit those among whom I dwell, and to repay, so far as I can, my dear parents’ care of me, than have the highest place and the highest honours, in the greatest kingdom in the universe.”

“Wait a few years, and we shall see!” said Count Rudolf.

“May Heaven strengthen you to keep to such a determination, my dearest Witikind,” exclaimed the Countess Ermengarde. “The Fairy has proved herself a true friend to us, by giving you an opportunity of learning, by your own experience, to estimate, at their proper value, those things which are so commonly looked on as advantages, and which the world so earnestly covets. How I long to express my thanks to our kind patroness! How earnestly I hope she will continue to help you with her counsels and advice!”

“Mother,” replied the boy, “I am as grateful to her as you could wish me to be; but so long as I can be guided by _you_, I will seek no other counsellor!”

As he said this, he threw himself into his mother’s arms, and mingled his kisses with her tears of affection and joy.

And thus engaged we must leave them for the present.

* * * * *

Bump, bump, bump! never was ball so elastic and springy. Caoutchouc was as lazy and lumpish as lead itself when compared with it! Bump, bump, bump! and a bound of twenty feet between each bump. Down to the ground as light as a feather, and then up in the air again, ever so high, almost before you could say it had touched the earth. A single kick from the Lady Abracadabra, and away it went, down the broad gravel terrace, as if it took pleasure in its feats!

Poor Prince Eigenwillig: it was lucky for you that that same process of drawing you through the keyhole, which, so to speak, had elongated you into a coil of living catgut, had also transformed your bones into gristle. Had there been any brittle material left in your fabric, it must have been fractured; but you were more mercifully dealt with than, considering your conduct to little Witikind, you deserved. The Fairy had no malevolent intentions towards you, though she did not choose that your audacious misbehaviour should go unpunished. She made a foot-ball of you, and kicked you before her, which was very much the kind of treatment you had bestowed upon all your attendants; but she had no wish to do you a mischief in life or limb; she only desired to administer some wholesome discipline.

Down the broad terrace bounded the involuntary traveller, and over the parapet in which it terminated. Fifty feet and more did the contorted Hope of the Katzekopfs traverse in the air before a bed of nettles received him. Over and over did he turn, to escape the stinging torment, but in vain: even the most elastic of balls cannot raise itself out of the bottom of a ditch.

Another kick from the Fairy was necessary; and as she kicked him, she exclaimed, “This is your punishment for having endeavoured to turn me into a toad: you may thank your lucky stars, and my good-nature, that this ditch is filled with nothing worse than nettles: it would have served you right had it been full of vipers.”

The Prince was smarting all over, so, perhaps, he did not feel as grateful as the Lady Abracadabra seemed to expect. But however that might be, there was no time for talking. Up the bank he flew, and pursued his painful way, “through bush, and through briar,” now over a wide expanse of gorse, now over thistly wastes, till there was not a quarter of an inch on the whole surface of the ball which had not received its share of castigation.

“Stop!” cried the Lady Abracadabra at length; and the Prince was but too glad to obey. “Come hither!” she continued. The Prince rolled towards her. As soon as he was within reach, she slipped off her girdle, and passing it through two or three of the living coils, lifted the ball from the ground, and threw it over her shoulder with a jerk, much in the same manner that a porter raises a sack on his back. Then she whistled three times; her cockatrice appeared at the sound; she sprung on her embroidered saddle,—her burden still suspended from her shoulder:—she gave the word; the monster spread forth his wings, and rose in the air; and in a few seconds the Hope of the Katzekopfs was far away from the scene of his errors, and from the influence of those whose weak indulgence had contributed to confirm him in them.

Darkness was now coming on apace, and the Prince was too much entangled in his own circumvolutions to be able to see very accurately whither he was wending, even had he known the country; but he was conscious that he was mounting higher and higher, and that he was being borne along with such increasing rapidity, that he thought within himself that they would certainly reach the world’s end by sunrise. On, and on, and on. The moon rose and set. The night air grew colder and colder: the clouds among which they travelled seemed denser and denser. Shivering at once and smarting; exhausted and hungry; terrified and indignant, the unhappy son of Queen Ninnilinda at length sunk into a state of apathy or unconsciousness.

How far, therefore, or in what direction he had been conveyed he knew not, but when he came to himself, morning had dawned, and he was aware that the Fairy was hovering at no great distance above the summit of a grassy hill, in the midst of a wooded country.

“Stop!” cried the Lady Abracadabra to her steed. The cockatrice poised in mid air. “Now, Eigenwillig,” said she, “you are going into Fairy-land. Take care how you behave there, for my countrymen are not to be trifled with.”

As she spoke she slipped one end of her girdle, and at the same moment the Prince became conscious that he was falling as rapidly as he had risen. But this was not all, for still, as he fell, he was conscious that he was no longer a compact ball, but that he was unrolling—yard after yard—with the greatest velocity; and not only so, but that his elongated form was shrinking back again to its original dimensions.

No sooner was he aware of this than a fresh terror seized him. “I am being restored to my natural shape,” thought he, “only to be dashed to pieces when I reach the summit of the hill beneath me.”

In a few moments he touched the earth; but instead of receiving a concussion which shattered him to atoms, he fell as lightly on the summit of the grassy knoll, as if a featherbed had been placed there to receive him; and, stranger still, the green turf immediately parting asunder beneath him, he continued to fall through a chasm which opened below him, and closed above him, till suddenly he found himself once more emerging into daylight, and entering into a country altogether new to him, in the bowels of the earth.

A single glance sufficed to show that he was in Fairy-land; for where else grow trees with fruits that gleam like precious stones? where else is the whole surface of the country covered with flowers of the most dazzling hues, and most delicious fragrance? where else is every dwelling a palace, and every palace built of gold and silver, and mother-o’-pearl? and of what but Fairies could those troops of delicate, ethereal forms consist, some of which were chasing each other in mid air, and some, with robes as green as the grass upon which they scarce deigned to tread, were hurrying hither and thither to discharge the various tasks assigned them by their sovereign?

Prince Eigenwillig had scarcely reached the ground before he was surrounded by a crowd of them, while, in a moment, scores more were swarming over him in the air.

“Ho! ho! who are you? How came you here?” cried a little sprite, who, by his crabbed face, and the bullrush which he carried in his hand like a mace, was probably the holder of some such office among the elves, as, with us mortals, is occupied by the parish beadle. “Ho! ho!” said he, poking the Prince with his staff of office. “Who are you? How came you here?”

“The Lady Abracadabra, whom perhaps you know, dropped me just now from the clouds,” replied the Prince.

“Ha! ha! ha!” shouted the whole troop laughing immoderately, “what a comical lady she is! Why, how come you with such fine clothes? Who are you?”

“I am the Prince Eigenwillig, eldest son of King Katzekopf,” replied the boy, throwing as much dignity into his manner as possible, for he was altogether unaccustomed to such interrogations, and had no idea of not being treated with profound respect.

“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the elves louder than ever. “What a _very_ comical fancy! Why this is the spoilt boy, that gave himself such airs, and was so selfish that nobody could endure him! What a strange choice to fix on _him_ of all people! To think of sending us a prince for our new apprentice! Well, Prince, what can you do?” asked he of the bullrush.

“_Do!_” said the Prince. “I don’t know what you mean. But I wish, gentlemen, you would let me have something to eat, for I am very hungry.”

“Ha! ha! ha! how very ridiculous, the apprentice wants something to eat! I tell you what, my young friend, you must take care what you are about, or you’ll make some of us laugh till we go into fits!”

“I don’t see anything laughable in asking for food when one’s hungry!” observed the Prince rather sulkily.

“No, no;” answered the first speaker as soon as he recovered breath, “the oddity consisted in the notion that you could get it by asking for it, and without doing anything to earn it. Nothing for nothing, is the rule here.”

“Well, I’ll pay for it honestly,—I’ll give you money for it,” said the Hope of the Katzekopfs.

“Money! what is money?” inquired a very young Fairy.

The man in authority laughed louder than ever. “Little bits of the stones we build our houses of, my child,” said he. “No, Prince, you must offer us something more to our taste than money, before we can find you provisions. Money is of no use here: we often mend the roads with it.”

“Then what is it you require of me?” asked the Prince, in a perturbed and astonished tone.

“Why you must work, work, work, like a dutiful apprentice, and then, as often as it is proper, you shall have something to eat.”

“Who am I to work for? what work am I expected to do?” inquired the scion of royalty.

“Oh you’re to work for me!” answered a shrill voice.

“And for me.” “And me.” “And me,” added a hundred more.

“Why, of course, you are to work for all of us,” observed the bearer of the bullrush gravely, “how could you be our apprentice else?”

“My chimneys want sweeping,” cried one.

“My garden wants digging,” said another.

“My house wants scouring,” observed a third.

“My ditches want cleaning,” remarked a fourth.

“I’m sure I shan’t clean ditches, or sweep chimneys for anybody,” said the Prince, in a most resolute tone.

“Ha! ha! ha! nobody asked you!” shouted the sprites, and away they all swept like a flight of starlings, making the air ring with their shrill laughter, while some of them sang,—

“Our apprentice has got an obstinate fit; Hunger and thirst shall cure him of it. He shall not eat A morsel of meat, He need not think A drop to drink, Till he works and earns it every bit!”

The Prince was now left alone. Not a Fairy remained in sight. So long as there was a single spectator, the boy’s pride enabled him to seem bold and unyielding; but when he was sure that no eye was upon him, overcome with weariness and vexation, he threw himself down upon the ground and sobbed as though his heart would break.

Poor child, he was to be pitied! There he was, without a friend—so far as he knew—near him; unable any longer to command attention on the score of his exalted rank; conscious within himself that all his misfortunes were the consequences of his own errors; and yet, at present, so rooted in his bad habits, that he was rather disposed to punish himself to any amount, than do anything which seemed to imply a disposition to yield and submit.

Long and sore he wept; but, in the end, hunger and thirst prevailed, and induced him to dry his tears, and to endeavour to obtain for himself that sustenance which the inhospitable Fairies would not provide him withal.

And he did not long hesitate as to the quarter whence he would seek refreshment. Those trees, laden with glittering fruits, had caught his eye the moment he entered Fairy-land, and he now resolved to help himself. To be sure the trees were high, and he was unused to climbing, but he did not feel much apprehension of not being able to get as much fruit as he needed; but he soon found greater difficulties than he expected. The first tree which he attempted to ascend had such an unctuous, slippery bark, that he only mounted a few yards, before he involuntarily slid to the ground. And this happened again and again. The next tree he approached had the most luscious-looking pears imaginable, hanging quite within his reach; but when he had advanced within a few yards of it, he beheld a tiger, glaring at him with blood-shot eyes, from within the tangled thicket. A third tree offered him its fruits, but the rind was so hard that his teeth could not penetrate it: in a fourth, the products, though beautiful to the eye, seemed to the taste like liquid fire;—his lips scarce touched them before they were blistered.

So he soon gave up the fruit trees in despair, and hastened towards a lake, which seemed at an inconsiderable distance, in order to satisfy his thirst with its sparkling waters. But soon he discovered that, as he advanced, the lake retreated, and that a shadowy vapour was mocking his aching sight.

Faint and weary he threw himself upon the ground once more and wept. But his tears this time were not those of offended pride, but of real suffering and distress.

“Alas!” thought he to himself, “how much I wish that I had considered more about the sufferings of those beneath me,—the poor, and sick, and hungry, and thirsty in my father’s kingdom! If I die here of hunger and thirst, nobody will miss me; nobody will mourn for me! Even Nurse Yellowlily, and the governesses, will be glad to find that they are not to see me any more; and no wonder! for I used to plague them shamefully.”

Thus did self-reproach mingle with the bodily discomforts of Prince Eigenwillig. Ah! if those whom he had most wearied and irritated with his naughty tricks, could have seen him now, they would have pitied and soothed him! And what a lesson would it have been for silly Queen Ninnilinda, could she have witnessed the end of her foolish indulgences!

It was a happy thing for the Hope of the Katzekopfs, that he _had_ no one to pity and soothe him. The bitterer his pains now, the more hope that he would escape them hereafter. The more searching and nauseous the medicine, the more hope that he would be careful not to render it necessary again, the more prospect that it would work an entire reform in his constitution. The experience of the last twelve hours was doing more for Prince Eigenwillig, than could have been acquired in as many years at his father’s court. The course of self-examination upon which the usage he had received in Fairy-land had caused him to enter was of more real value to him than all the jewels in his future crown. The sharp and trying process by which he was now in progress of being taught the defects of his character, was a more certain evidence of the good-will of his Fairy-godmother towards him, than all the precious gifts which she had heaped upon him, on the day when she named him Eigenwillig.

There is no night in Fairy-land; for elves have no need of that rest and sleep which are indispensable to more gross and corporeal forms; so the Prince knew not, save by the increase of his hunger and thirst, that another day (as we mortals count time,) was drawing to its close. Hour after hour he had lain upon the grass, alternately weeping and meditating, and still uncertain what to do. Once or twice he felt disposed to remain in his obstinacy. “I’m not going to be a slave,” thought he, “and nobody shall compel me to work for them.” But then, after a while, he reflected that there was no compulsion in the case. So, when he got very hungry indeed, he determined he would apply to the first Fairy he saw, for some job of work which should be worth a good meal to him. No sooner had he made this resolution, than he felt rather more comfortable in his mind, than when he was struggling with his self-will; but his appetite was by no means relieved. “I shall see a Fairy, no doubt, very soon,” said he. But he waited a long time, and not one appeared in sight. “I wish I could see a Fairy!” he cried, after a while. “What a terrible scrape I shall be in, if they have left this part of the country! Perhaps I had better get up and walk onward!”

Up he got: but he was so faint and exhausted, he was obliged to rest at the end of half-a-mile. “Alas! alas! how rash was I to offend them: how wrong to give way to my pride and bad temper! But what a terrible punishment they are inflicting! They have certainly left me to starve!” And the Prince buried his face in his knees, and wept once more. He had not sat long, when he heard a rustling in the air above him, and, looking up, he beheld, within a few yards of him, two Fairies, bearing between them a basket laden with most delicious-looking grapes.

“Gentlemen,” said the Prince, “can you set me to work? I should be very glad to earn a meal.”

“Who are you?” asked the first.

“Oh,” replied the second, “he’s our new apprentice; the self-willed Prince, who expected to live among us in idleness.”

“No, my little master,” said the first, addressing himself to the Prince, “I’ve no work for you. You should have asked me when I was going to the vineyard, not when I was coming from it. Let me find you here twelve hours hence, and I dare say we can find you something to do.”

“But I shall be dead in twelve hours; I am so faint for want of food now, I can hardly walk.”

“I am sorry for that,” observed the second Fairy. “What a pity you didn’t sweep the chimneys, and clean the ditches, when you had the offer. But it can’t be helped. Nothing for nothing is the rule here. Farewell, Prince Wilful. Come, Tomalin, forward with our burden.”

“Nay, nay,” replied Tomalin, who was the more amiable-looking of the two; “if it be as he says, and if he be willing to work, we may as well do somewhat for him. Maybe he is inclining to mend his ways.”

“You are the ruin of our apprentices with your good-nature,” replied Claribel, “but I suppose it must be as you wish. Suppose we give him the grapes to carry. Come Prince-Apprentice, here’s work for you, if you want it. Carry our load for us over the hill yonder, and you shall have some of the fruit for your pains.”

The Hope of the Katzekopfs came forward with alacrity: at least, with all the alacrity in his power.

“Take care you don’t drop any!” said Tomalin, helping him to throw the basket over his shoulder. “Now, then, away with you!”

The Prince bent under his burden with hearty good-will. The elves had seemed to bear it through the air without the slightest difficulty, and he anticipated that, after all, he had got an easy task. But he was wofully disappointed. The grapes might have been bullets, to judge from their weight. The basket, instead of resting easily on his shoulder, nearly dragged him backwards. He was tempted to relinquish his task almost at the outset. Fortunately, however, his natural resoluteness of character, which so often had assumed the shape of obstinacy, now displayed itself in a more praiseworthy form; he determined to prove his sincerity, by doing his best.

And he was rewarded. For, after reeling and staggering a few steps, the burden at his back seemed somewhat lighter. At first the relief was almost imperceptible, but the further he advanced, the more his load was lessened, so that, at the end of two or three hundred yards, he found he was getting on with tolerable ease.

He ventured to remark the change to his companions. They only smiled, and said, “It is ever so when folks are in earnest.” It was a long tug up the hill, and the Prince was a good deal out of breath; but he did not lose heart, and, before long, had arrived at a mansion built of mother-o’-pearl, and adorned with cupolas and domes of silver, according to the usual form of Fairy architecture. Here, still bearing his burden on his back, he passed through a tennis-court of ivory, thence through a hall of blue sapphire, down a long corridor of agate, into a kitchen of crystal, with doors of nutmeg, and pillars of green ginger. Here he was bidden to set down his load, and was allowed to refresh himself with the grapes.

“You have worked hard and shown hearty good-will,” said Claribel, “so you may eat as many grapes as you like, while we take our own repast.” And a strange repast it seemed. If the Prince had not been too much occupied with the grapes, he might have ventured to ask its nature, and perhaps would have received some such reply as the following:—

“A roasted ant that’s nicely done, By one small atom of the sun; These are flies’ eggs, in moonshine poach’d; This a flea’s thigh, in collops scotched— ‘Twas hunted yesterday i’ the park, And like t’have ‘scaped us in the dark. This is a dish entirely new— Butterflies’ brains, dissolved in dew; These lovers’ vows, these courtiers’ hopes, Things to be eat by microscopes; These sucking-mites, a glow-worm’s heart, This a delicious rainbow tart.”[2]

Footnote 2:

King’s Works, Edit. 1776, vol. III., p. 112.

“I begin to have hopes of our apprentice,” observed Tomalin, when he had finished his supper. “There’s plenty of work for him in the meadow yonder. I want to have all the worm-casts stopped. You had better go and set about it, my little master.”

Prince Eigenwillig coloured, and, for a moment, he had a struggle with himself not to say that as he had now got a meal, he did not intend to do any more work; but experience had taught him wisdom; so he expressed his willingness to do what he was bidden, only hinting that he should be better up to his work, if he could be allowed a few hours’ sleep.

“Oh, true,” said Claribel, “I forgot that;” Then he showed the Hope of the Katzekopfs a soft bed of moss, and bade the weary child rest himself.

Prince Eigenwillig—king’s son as he was—had never eaten so delicious a meal as those few bunches of grapes, earned with the sweat of his brow, and never had he slept so sound between sheets of the finest cambric, as now on that mossy couch.

And better still, when he woke, he woke with a light heart—light, though he was far from home, and forced to work for his bread, as the Fairy’s apprentice. From the moment in which he made up his mind to take his trial cheerfully, and do what he was bidden, the whole prospect seemed to brighten before him.

And the Fairies, who, at first, appeared cross, and spiteful, and capricious towards him, by degrees softened in their manner. The feeling that he was at every body’s call, and that he had more masters to please than he could count, was certainly very disheartening at the outset; but in a few days he got reconciled to it. And then, moreover, he had the satisfaction of finding that the kind of labour to which he was put was changed. At first, and while the Fairies thought him disposed to be obstinate and self-willed, and inclined to rebel, they set him to all the dirtiest and hardest tasks they could think of; but, as they observed him growing more willing and good-humoured, they made more of a companion of him than a servant, and at length he became such a favourite, that he was allowed to join in their sports.

Hitherto he had seen nothing of the Lady Abracadabra; but when the Prince had thus gained the regard of her countrymen, she suddenly appeared among them, and inquired how their apprentice had conducted himself.

All were open mouthed in his praise. Even the beadle with the bullrush, had a word to say in his favour, and Claribel declared that he thought the Lady Abracadabra’s object was accomplished, and her godchild might be allowed to revisit his family.

But the Lady Abracadabra, though smiling kindly on him, shook her head. “Alas,” said she, “you know not how much he has to unlearn every way, and how great are the trials to which he would still be exposed at home. But so far, so good. He has learned to obey orders. We must now see whether he has learned to govern _himself_.”