A land that living warmth disowns,
It meets my wondering ken;
A land where all the men are stones,
Or all the stones are men.
Before the apple-woman had finished,
Jack and Mopsa saw the Queen coming in great state,
followed by thousands of the one-foot-one fairies,
and leading by a ribbon round its neck a beautiful
brown doe. A great many pretty fawns were walking
among the fairies.
“Here’s the deputation,”
said the apple-woman; but as the Guinea-fowl rose
like a cloud at the approach of the Queen, and the
fairies and fawns pressed forward, there was a good
deal of noise and confusion, during which Mopsa stepped
up close to Jack, and whispered in his ear, “Remember,
Jack, whatever you can do you may do.”
Then the brown doe laid down at Mopsa’s
feet, and the Queen began:
“Jack and Mopsa, I love you
both. I had a message last night from my old
mother, and I told you what it was.”
“Yes, Queen,” said Mopsa, “you did.”
“And now,” continued the
Queen, “she has sent this beautiful brown doe
from the country beyond the lake, where they are in
the greatest distress for a queen, to offer Mopsa
the crown; and, Jack, it is fated that Mopsa is to
reign there, so you had better say no more about it.”
“I don’t want to be a
queen,” said Mopsa, pouting; “I want to
play with Jack.”
“You are a queen already,”
answered the real Queen; “at least, you will
be in a few days. You are so much grown, even
since the morning, that you come up nearly to Jack’s
shoulder. In four days you will be as tall as
I am; and it is quite impossible that any one of fairy
birth should be as tall as a queen in her own country.”
“But I don’t see what
stags and does can want with a queen,” said
Jack.
“They were obliged to turn into
deer,” said the Queen, “when they crossed
their own border; but they are fairies when they are
at home, and they want Mopsa, because they are always
obliged to have a queen of alien birth.”
“If I go,” said Mopsa, “shall Jack
go too?”
“Oh, no,” answered the
Queen; “Jack and the apple-woman are my subjects.”
“Apple-woman,” said Jack,
“tell us what you think; shall Mopsa go to this
country?”
“Why, child,” said the
apple-woman, “go away from here she must; but
she need not go off with the deer, I suppose, unless
she likes. They look gentle and harmless; but
it is very hard to get at the truth in this country,
and I’ve heard queer stories about them.”
“Have you?” said the Queen.
“Well, you can repeat them if you like; but
remember that the poor brown doe cannot contradict
them.”
So the apple-woman said, “I
have heard, but I don’t know how true it is,
that in that country they shut up their queen in a
great castle, and cover her with a veil, and never
let the sun shine on her; for if by chance the least
little sunbeam should light on her she would turn
into a doe directly, and all the nation would turn
with her, and stay so.”
“I don’t want to be shut up in a castle,”
said Mopsa.
“But is it true?” asked Jack.
“Well,” said the apple-woman,
“as I told you before, I cannot make out whether
it’s true or not, for all these stags and fawns
look very mild, gentle creatures.”
“I won’t go,” said Mopsa; “I
would rather run away.”
All this time the Queen with the brown
doe had been gently pressing with the crowd nearer
and nearer to the brink of the river, so that now
Jack and Mopsa, who stood facing them, were quite close
to the boat; and while they argued and tried to make
Mopsa come away, Jack suddenly whispered to her to
spring into the boat, which she did, and he after
her, and at the same time he cried out,
“Now, boat, if you are my boat,
set off as fast as you can, and let nothing of fairy
birth get on board of you.”
No sooner did he begin to speak than
the boat swung itself away from the edge, and almost
in a moment it was in the very middle of the river,
and beginning to float gently down with the stream.
“The boat swung itself away
from the edge, and almost in a moment it was in the
very middle of the river.” Page
162.]
Now, as I have told you before, that
river runs up the country instead of down to the sea,
so Jack and Mopsa floated still farther up into Fairyland;
and they saw the Queen, and the apple-woman, and all
the crowd of fawns and fairies walking along the bank
of the river, keeping exactly to the same pace that
the boat went; and this went on for hours and hours,
so that there seemed to be no chance that Jack and
Mopsa could land; and they heard no voices at all,
nor any sound but the baying of the old hound, who
could not swim out to them, because Jack had forbidden
the boat to take anything of fairy birth on board
of her.
Luckily the bottom of the boat was
full of those delicious flowers that had dropped into
it at breakfast-time, so there was plenty of nice
food for Jack and Mopsa; and Jack noticed, when he
looked at her towards evening, that she was now nearly
as tall as himself, and that her lovely brown hair
floated down to her ankles.
“Jack,” she said, before
it grew dusk, “will you give me your little
purse that has the silver fourpence in it?”
Now Mopsa had often played with this
purse. It was lined with a nice piece of pale
green silk, and when Jack gave it to her she pulled
the silk out, and shook it, and patted it, and stretched
it, just as the Queen had done, and it came into a
most lovely cloak, which she tied round her neck.
Then she twisted up her long hair into a coil, and
fastened it round her head, and called to the fire-flies
which were beginning to glitter on the trees to come,
and they came and alighted in a row upon the coil,
and turned into diamonds directly. So now Mopsa
had got a crown and a robe, and she was so beautiful
that Jack thought he should never be tired of looking
at her; but it was nearly dark now, and he was so
sleepy and tired that he could not keep his eyes open,
though he tried very hard, and he began to blink, and
then he began to nod, and at last he fell fast asleep,
and did not awake till the morning.
Then he sat up in the boat, and looked
about him. A wonderful country, indeed! no
trees, no grass, no houses, nothing but red stones
and red sand, and Mopsa was gone.
Jack jumped on shore, for the boat had stopped, and
was close to the brink of the river. He looked
about for some time, and at last, in the shadow of
a pale brown rock, he found her; and oh! delightful
surprise, the apple-woman was there too. She
was saying, “O my bones! Dearie, dearie
me, how they do ache!” That was not surprising,
for she had been out all night. She had walked
beside the river with the Queen and her tribe till
they came to a little tinkling stream, which divides
their country from the sandy land, and there they
were obliged to stop; they could not cross it.
But the apple-woman sprang over, and, though the Queen
told her she must come back again in twenty-four hours,
she did not appear to be displeased. Now the
Guinea-hens, when they had come to listen, the day
before, to the apple-woman’s song, had brought
each of them a grain of maize in her beak, and had
thrown it into her apron; so when she got up she carried
it with her gathered up there, and now she had been
baking some delicious little cakes on a fire of dry
sticks that the river had drifted down, and Mopsa
had taken a honeycomb from the rock, so that they
all had a very nice breakfast. And the apple-woman
gave them a great deal of good advice, and told them
if they wished to remain in Fairyland, and not be
caught by the brown doe and her followers, they must
cross over the purple mountains. “For on
the other side of those peaks,” she said, “I
have heard that fairies live who have the best of
characters for being kind and just. I am sure
they would never shut up a poor queen in a castle.
“But the best thing you could
do, dear,” she said to Mopsa, “would be
to let Jack call the bird, and make her carry you back
to his own country.”
“The Queen is not at all kind,”
said Jack; “I have been very kind to her, and
she should have let Mopsa stay.”
“No, Jack, she could not,”
said Mopsa; “but I wish I had not grown so fast,
and I don’t like to go to your country.
I would rather run away.”
“But who is to tell us where to run?”
asked Jack.
“Oh,” said Mopsa, “some of these
people.”
“I don’t see anybody,” said Jack,
looking about him.
Mopsa pointed to a group of stones,
and then to another group, and as Jack looked he saw
that in shape they were something like people, stone
people. One stone was a little like an old man
with a mantle over him, and he was sitting on the
ground with his knees up nearly to his chin.
Another was like a woman with a hood on, and she seemed
to be leaning her chin on her hand. Close to these
stood something very much like a cradle in shape;
and beyond were stones that resembled a flock of sheep
lying down on the bare sand, with something that reminded
Jack of the figure of a man lying asleep near them,
with his face to the ground.
That was a very curious country; all
the stones reminded you of people or of animals, and
the shadows that they cast were much more like than
the stones themselves. There were blocks with
things that you might have mistaken for stone ropes
twisted round them; but, looking at the shadows, you
could see distinctly that they were trees, and that
what coiled round were snakes. Then there was
a rocky prominence, at one side of which was something
like a sitting figure, but its shadow, lying on the
ground, was that of a girl with a distaff. Jack
was very much surprised at all this; Mopsa was not.
She did not see, she said, that one thing was more
wonderful than another. All the fairy lands were
wonderful, but the men-and-women world was far more
so. She and Jack went about among the stones
all day, and as the sun got low both the shadows and
the blocks themselves became more and more like people,
and if you went close you could now see features, very
sweet, quiet features, but the eyes were all shut.
By this time the apple-woman began
to feel very sad. She knew she should soon have
to leave Jack and Mopsa, and she said to Mopsa, as
they finished their evening meal, “I wish you
would ask the inhabitants a few questions, dear, before
I go, for I want to know whether they can put you
in the way how to cross the purple mountains.”
Jack said nothing, for he thought
he would see what Mopsa was going to do; so when she
got up and went towards the shape that was like a
cradle he followed, and the apple-woman too. Mopsa
went to the figure that sat by the cradle. It
was a stone yet, but when Mopsa laid her little warm
hand on its bosom it smiled.
“Dear,” said Mopsa, “I wish you
would wake.”
A curious little sound was now heard,
but the figure did not move, and the apple-woman lifted
Mopsa on to the lap of the statue; then she put her
arms round its neck, and spoke to it again very distinctly:
“Dear! why don’t you wake? You had
better wake now; the baby’s crying.”
Jack now observed that the sound he
had heard was something like the crying of a baby.
He also heard the figure answering Mopsa. It said,
“I am only a stone!”
“Then,” said Mopsa, “I
am not a queen yet. I cannot wake her. Take
me down.”
“I am not warm,” said
the figure; and that was quite true, and yet she was
not a stone now which reminded one of a woman, but
a woman that reminded one of a stone.
All the west was very red with the
sunset, and the river was red too, and Jack distinctly
saw some of the coils of rope glide down from the
trees and slip into the water; next he saw the stones
that had looked like sheep raise up their heads in
the twilight, and then lift themselves and shake their
woolly sides. At that instant the large white
moon heaved up her pale face between two dark blue
hills, and upon this the statue put out its feet and
gently rocked the cradle.
Then it spoke again to Mopsa:
“What was it that you wished me to tell you?”
“How to find the way over those
purple mountains,” said Mopsa.
“You must set off in an hour,
then,” said the woman; and she had hardly anything
of the stone about her now. “You can easily
find it by night without any guide, but nothing can
ever take you to it by day.”
“But we would rather stay a
few days in this curious country,” said Jack;
“let us wait at least till to-morrow night.”
The statue at this moment rubbed her
hands together, as if they still felt cold and stiff.
“You are quite welcome to stay,” she observed;
“but you had better not.”
“Why not?” persisted Jack.
“Father,” said the woman,
rising and shaking the figure next to her by the sleeve,
“Wake up!” What had looked like an old
man was a real old man now, and he got up and began
to gather sticks to make a fire, and to pick up the
little brown stones which had been scattered about
all day, but which now were berries of coffee; the
larger ones, which you might find here and there,
were rasped rolls. Then the woman answered Jack,
“Why not? Why, because it’s full moon
to-night at midnight, and the moment the moon is past
the full your Queen, whose country you have just left,
will be able to cross over the little stream, and she
will want to take you and that other mortal back.
She can do it, of course, if she pleases; and we can
afford you no protection, for by that time we shall
be stones again. We are only people two hours
out of the twenty-four.”
“That is very hard,” observed Jack.
“No,” said the woman,
in a tone of indifference; “it comes to the same
thing, as we live twelve times as long as others do.”
By this time the shepherd was gently
driving his flock down to the water, and round fifty
little fires groups of people were sitting roasting
coffee, while cows were lowing to be milked, and girls
with distaffs were coming to them slowly, for no one
was in a hurry there. They say in that country
that they wish to enjoy their day quietly, because
it is so short.
“Can you tell us anything of
the land beyond the mountains?” asked Jack.
“Yes,” said the woman.
“Of all fairy lands it is the best; the people
are the gentlest and kindest.”
“Then I had better take Mopsa
there than down the river?” said Jack.
“You can’t take her down
the river,” replied the woman; and Jack thought
she laughed and was glad of that.
“Why not?” asked Jack. “I have
a boat.”
“Yes, sir,” answered the woman; “but
where is it now?”