Once upon a time many years ago there lay five islands in the South
Pacific ocean where the weather was always fine.

Four of them were set in a kind of square, but the fifth, which was much smaller than any of the others, stood in the center of the group so that it was nearer to each island than they were to each other, for they were all so many miles apart that they could not see each other’s shores.

The little island in the middle was not inhabited, but was surrounded by very dangerous reefs. It was called the Island of Despair, though nobody seemed to know how it got its name, and was supposed to be haunted.

It had not always been there, and that was another reason why it was looked upon as an uncanny place, for all the grandmothers and grandfathers could remember when there had been nothing but the great sea between the four islands, and then suddenly one morning a ship had come upon the small island and nearly wrecked itself on the great rocks about it. After that of course it was put on all the charts, but even so, many a ship had since gone on the rocks in a storm and been lost.

Each of the four big islands was a separate kingdom, and had nothing to do with the others. The largest of all was called the Island of Sunne because it was the nicest and had the finest weather. It never rained there in the day time, but only at night, which you must admit was very convenient.

However, every place has disadvantages, and instead of mothers telling their children that it was not fine enough to go for a picnic they often said it was too fine, which meant that the very bright sunshine and blue sky would be apt to dazzle them, and then they would have to sit in a dark room every day for a week before they would be able to see anything again.

The King of Sunne was a good, kind man, who never made war with any of the other kingdoms, and was quite satisfied with all that he had. The Queen was very nice too, and gave a great deal of money to the poor, so it was not to be wondered at that the country was very prosperous, and the people thought their rulers the best in the world.

The King and Queen had only one son, who was called Daimur. When Prince Daimur was sixteen years of age his father gave him the most beautiful horse he could find in the kingdom, and the Prince was so delighted with his present that he used to ride all day long in the forests, sometimes with his servants, and sometimes alone.

One day, as he was returning from a long ride, he passed a small hut deep in a wood, which he did not remember ever having seen there before. He dismounted, and going up to the door asked for a drink of water.

An old man opened the door and asked him to come in. He did so, and the old man got him a pitcher of water from the well, but did not offer him anything to eat. The Prince wondered at this, as it was nearly noontime, and the people of the forest were extremely hospitable.

“You are wondering, my dear young Prince,” said he, “why I have no dinner cooking. It is because I am so poor that I have nothing to eat in the house, and I do not know what is to become of me.”

Thereupon the Prince pulled out of his knapsack a package of meat, some bread and butter, cakes, and a big piece of fine cheese.

“Poor old man,” he cried, “take this food, which I will not need, and I will send you some more to-morrow.”

The old man thanked him with tears in his eyes, and the Prince rode away.

Next day, when Daimur was again setting out to ride he called some of his servants and bade them fill up several baskets with food and provisions of various kinds, which he intended to give to the old man at the cottage.

When all was ready they set out, and soon reached the wood, but what was Daimur’s surprise to find the cottage door broken down and the poor old man lying upon the floor.

Daimur ran forward and attempted to raise him.

“Tell me what has happened, my poor old friend,” he cried, “who has done this?”

“Alas, my enemy has found me,” whispered the old man, “and I am dying.”

Then he motioned to Daimur to send the servants away from the room, as he had something he wished to tell him. As soon as Daimur had shut the door the old man said:

“Prince Daimur, I am not merely the old man you see lying here; I am also a fairy, and am called the Good Old Man of Sunne. By my powers I have been able to keep away all evil and unhappiness from this island, and at one time from all the other islands in this Land of Brightness. But I have had for the last two hundred years a very powerful enemy who is known as the Evil Man of Despair. He makes his home now upon the Island of Despair, and wicked men consult him when they have deeds of treachery to do.

“He has a great many chemical secrets which he learned in foreign lands, and as I am older than he and not so clever he has outwitted me many times upon the other islands, and evil times have followed, with wars and bloodshed. I have always lived upon this island, and of late took refuge in your father’s wood, as I had a warning that he was going to seek me out and kill me.

“Last night when it was very dark a tremendous wind sprang up and the fury of it burst my door open. I knew it was he, although he did not speak, but in a moment the cottage was filled with a sweet smell of spices which soon became overpowering and I lay like one stupefied, too weak to move. I heard him moving around searching for my treasures. He did not find them, however, and I am going to give them to you, as in a few moments I will be dead, and then I do not know what will become of this Land of Sunne. Alas! Alas!”

Prince Daimur was greatly moved, and tried to tell him that he might get better if he sent back and fetched the Court doctor, who was very wise, but the old man shook his head feebly.

“No, it is of no use,” he said, “I am very old, and the poison has killed me. My brain is already growing numb, and I must act quickly, Look on that nail behind the door and you will find the door key. Bring it to me.”

Daimur did so, and the old man pinched it. It split in two and there could be seen a smaller key resting in a groove in the middle.

“Now,” said the old man, “put this in the lock which you will find in the under side of the window sill and turn it. Bring me what you see.”

Daimur did as he was told, and after fitting the little key into the lock and turning it, he found that a piece of the window sill rose up and disclosed a small black morocco case like a pocketbook lying in the cavity. This he carried to the old man, who grasped it eagerly in his feeble hands.

“This,” he said, “contains my greatest treasures. In this case is a small black velvet cap. It is a poor, worn-looking one, but whoever wears it knows all things, and will be able to act wisely. Inside the cap you will find a pair of silver-rimmed spectacles. With these on you will see everything as it really is, no matter how it may look to other people. You must, however, be careful, as the Evil Magician has always coveted these treasures and if he finds out that you have them he will do his best to get them from you. Let no one know that you possess them, and always keep them concealed about you. As the Magician will no doubt came back to search the cottage I advise you to burn it up as soon as I am gone. See, you had better take the magic key too, as it will open any lock, however large or small. Beware of evil times, my poor Prince, as my good influence will no longer be felt in this kingdom.”

With these words the old man began to shrink thinner and thinner, narrower and narrower, until Daimur could see through him, and finally he was just a streak of pale sunlight upon the floor, which wavered and faded, and at last went out completely.

Daimur was so surprised that he sat quite still for a time. Then rising to his feet and putting the key into the black case with the spectacles, he hid it in his bosom, and went out to call his servants. He told them that the old man was dead and would not need the food, and sent them on with it to the home of a poor farmer who had a sick wife, telling them to ride around by the high road and meet him, as he was going to ride that way.

As soon as they were out of sight he built a little pile of chips and dry leaves under the edge of the house, and set fire to it. What was his astonishment to see the flames leap up at once over the whole cottage, which burnt like paper. In a moment there was nothing left but a little pile of ashes, which the light wind took up into the air, where it formed a white cloud that sailed off into the sky, leaving a perfectly green space where the cottage had been, with no marks of fire at all.

Prince Daimur rode slowly out of the forest, thinking of all the good old man had said, and wondering very much, as he had never heard before of the Evil Magician of Despair, although he had heard his father say that a good fairy had always presided over the fortunes of his kingdom, but Daimur had thought it only a saying.

He longed to put on the magic cap and spectacles, but was afraid the Evil Magician might be hovering around, so he made up his mind that he would wait until some need arose before he took them from their case again.