LITMIR.BIZ

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there was a stir, the door had opened and a fairy came in dressed in the bluest of blues. Gogul Mogul went up to her; she came to the table and ate a sandwich; then he led her by the hand to the upper end of the room, where Fairy Queen and the other grand fairies rose to receive her. They talked of her long absence, then of other things. But I was not listening; I was watching Gogul Mogul, who had come back to the refreshment table, where, all the fairies having been helped, he proceeded to help himself. I have seen school-boys in bun shops, and school-girls settling down to a feast of chocolate creams; in these I have sometimes joined myself. But never before, never since, did I see the like of Gogul Mogul. Sandwich after sandwich, tart after tart, he put into his mouth; there was no choosing, no hesitation, no pause, till every bit of the food off the dishes had gone. And then—it sounds nonsense, and no one will believe it possible who has not seen it done—he turned up the cloth at one end of the table, then at the other, and went on rolling and rolling it up over plates and dishes and glasses and flagons, till there was nothing left but a small napkin, which he squeezed into the breast-pocket slit of his tight green clothes.

      I looked up and straight at the moon, who seemed to be smiling. ‘Is it a dream,’ I thought, ‘is it a practical joke, or is it really a meeting of the Women’s Gossip Revival Society, as they said downstairs?’

      The Blue Fairy was now sitting on the platform, all the other fairies too had taken seats. Gogul Mogul, the wonderful Gogul Mogul, who well deserved the title of Food Destroyer to Her Majesty, sauntered up to the platform, where he sat down by the side of Fairy Queen.

      Fairy Queen then rose and said: ‘This night being the Full Moon we have met as usual to hear what the fairies have to report about children’s books and child-readers; how the children have liked the stories, and what they think of them. But as the Blue Fairy has just arrived from Germany, where she has been so long, I propose to call on her to tell us some of her adventures.’

      There was a great clapping of hands at this. Gogul Mogul stood up, bowed to the Blue Fairy, and said: ‘A feast of reason and a flow of soul!’ at which there was renewed clapping of hands.

      The Blue Fairy hesitated, she fingered the gold spangles of her dress, she shook back her curls. Then she began:

      ‘Germany is a wonderful country. It is very big as you know, and very different in places; the parts I like best are the large forests which extend uphill and downhill for many many miles. We all hope to go back to Fairyland some day, but next to going there we could not do better than settle in one of these German forests; with the squirrels playing about, and the birds singing, and the little streams bubbling between the moss-grown rocks, I really felt quite at home there. The folk live in the queerest of houses, and are dressed in the queerest of clothes; and there can be nothing funnier than the dear little children, who come a long distance over the hills to school, walking barefoot, and who sit down outside the schoolhouse and put on their stockings and shoes before they go in, as if wearing shoes and stockings were part of doing lessons. Well, I went to stay in the Black Forest first; Gogul Mogul told me it was there I must go to hear about the Little Glass Man. I believe he knew him as a boy when the Little Glass Man used to visit in Fairyland. But I travelled about on coaches painted a bright yellow, I stayed about in old-fashioned sunny village inns, I heard about many wonderful things, but I could not find out anything about the Little Glass Man. Had he left those parts, had people forgotten about him?

      ‘One afternoon I had been in a saw-mill watching the saw go up and down through the long pine-wood trunk which slowly moved along to meet it, to the sound of the splashing wheel outside going round and round. Every time the saw had cut through the length of the trunk it stopped, there was a great rush of water outside, a little bell was set tinkling, and then the sawyer, or the saw-miller, as they call him over there, wound the trunk back and set the saw so as to cut the next plank, and then the whole thing was again set going. It was curious watching the sawdust jerked up, and the huge block of timber cut lengthwise into so many planks, and the miller going in and out over the sawdust. I felt quite sorry when at last he stopped the little bell without setting the saw going again, and came and stood by me.

      ‘Then we talked about this and that, and I asked him about the Little Glass Man; he must know so many woodmen who felled the trees and brought the timber to the mill; had they ever met him?

      ‘The miller was a big rough man with a stubbly beard; I don’t know if he was at all deaf, but when he spoke it was so loud that he must have thought me dull of hearing.

      ‘ “Take my advice,” he said, “if you want to know about the country go into the town. Don’t expect us to know about Little Glass Men, or other little men; we don’t care for such things. But in the town you are sure to find all about it stored away in some book. Take my advice, go into a town; it is there that you find out about things in the country.”

      ‘Was he right? I wondered as I walked home that night. I could not believe it, so I stayed on in the Black Forest till it was time to come home, but without ever hearing of the Little Glass Man. I was on the railroad again. It was early one morning when we stopped at a station; there was no train for two hours, so I took a walk into the town. There was a clear, fast-flowing river below, and in the distance again such wonderful wooded hills. I went into a shop and asked for some writing-paper.

      ‘The gentleman who brought it out had on the shabbiest of coats, but on his head there was an embroidered velvet cap, and his slippers too were embroidered. Only his toes were stuck inside these, and he moved about the shop slowly so as not to leave them behind.

      ‘ “And what is the name of that wood yonder?—those hills, I mean?—those wooded heights?—that mountain range?” I asked, trying word after word, and at last standing in the doorway and pointing at the hills opposite, while he blankly stared at me.

      ‘ “Where can you be from that you should not know?” he said at last.

      ‘ “I am from England,” I said rather hotly, “from London, a small place you may have heard of.”

      ‘He nodded, “Oh yes, I know. You have not come all that way alone; surely a lady by herself. …”

      ‘ “Oh yes I have,” I said, “and I have a good mind to go up among those hills by myself too; perhaps some one up there might tell me what they are called.”

      ‘ “Look here,” he said, “if you really mean to go, let me lend you my map. I have got such a splendid one. And I shan’t be using it for months, as there is no one to mind the shop for me.”

      ‘He brought it out of a drawer and unfolded it, while I stared in my turn.

      ‘ “You see,” he said, “that is the highest point; now be sure you don’t miss seeing that. You see Forsthaus Diana marked; well there is the inn, that spot close to it. That is where all those wonderful stories were told.”

      ‘ “What stories?” I said; “nothing about the Little Glass Man, I suppose?”

      ‘He went to the back of the shop and fumbled about.

      ‘ “Yes, of course, about the Little Glass Man, and about the Golden Florin,” he said; “even if you live in an out-of-the-way place like London, you must have heard of them. Here is the book; stories by Hauff. Dear me, to think that my father met the man more than once who stored up all these treasures! You can take the book as well as the map, if you like; if you are not coming back this way you can send them by any one who is.”

      ‘There was no chair in the shop, I had to support myself against the counter, I felt so overcome with having found the story at last. The gentleman went on pointing out the best way to go, and what I must see, and after half an hour it was all settled, my luggage was to be sent up one way and I was to go another.

      ‘ “I am glad you will see the old inn standing where the stories were told,” he said, “and you will be quite comfortable at the forest-house Diana. If I were you I should tell the lady-forester at once that you are an English girl, and no Nihilist; that is what she is sure to think if she sees a girl travelling about by herself. Tell her I sent you there, and give

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