The Fairy Nightcaps

"Come out of the boat! come out of the boat!" he said, in a baleful whisper.

Spite of his terror and shrinking, Charley felt himself impelled to lean over and look down into the moon-lit water.

Oh! what frightful forms he saw! Some riding on crabs, some on great leeches, and more on the backs of flying-fishes, who took tremendous leaps in the air, while their riders uttered frantic yells of delight.

The poor boy felt that some horrible but irresistible power was dragging him down, down into the deep water, where these wicked imps would bury him in some dark cave. He struggled to resist the impulse to plunge, but it grew stronger and stronger, till, with a faint moan of despair, he was just yielding to his hapless fate, when the sound of distant fairy music broke upon his ear, and raising his head, he beheld, riding swiftly down on the moonbeams, in all the pomp and blazonry of military equipment, a band of armed fairy knights, with Firefly at their head. On they came, with dash and hurry, and soon the air was darkened with arrows and javelins hurled at the hateful water-sprites.

Fast and sharp they came, and in a very few moments a still more brilliant light gleamed from the eyes of the victorious army, as the kelpies, after a short but furious resistance, sank yelling with rage and disappointment beneath the wave, and the water became still and glassy as before.

The agitated boy heard a tiny but hearty shout of triumph, and then the brave little fairy soldiers, after kissing their hands and waving their gossamer scarfs at Charley, turned and flew on their light and winged steeds, towards the beautiful hollow from which the good Queen had sent them, for she knew, by her fairy power, the danger her beloved Charley was in.

The music, faint and sweet, lingered till the last lance had flashed in the moonbeams, as it disappeared over the tall tree-tops, and then it died insensibly away, so lingering were the delicious notes.

Then the wondering boy looking round, saw only the bright moon, the still water, and the row-boat full of his brothers and sisters.

"Why, Charley," said his mother, kiss ing him, "you have had a nice little sleep; haven't you?"

"Sleep? Oh no!" answered the bewildered child. "Did you see the battle?"

"Battle!" screamed all the children. "Why, Charley, you must be getting crazy!"

"Not at all," said Charley, very earnestly, "this time it really happened;" and he told of the battle of the fairies, while the children opened their eyes and mouths so wide with astonishment, that their faces looked all holes; and they stared with all their might up at the moonbeams and down into the water, in the hope that at least some one fairy might have found it necessary to see Charley safe on dry land; but I am sorry to have to relate that they were not gratified with a sight, though their very eye-balls stuck out, so intense and eager did they look, and so sure was Charley that he had not been asleep.

Had he been asleep?

And now, for more than a month after this, Charley and the rest of the children lived a most delightful life. They were up at drum-beat every morning. They would not have missed a parade on any account whatever, that is, all except Charley, and he enjoyed it almost as much as the rest. They were so enthusiastic and glowing in their descriptions. They even went to a stag-dance at night, and almost killed themselves laughing at the cadets.

This stag-dance is performed on the green. A ring is formed, and a tallow candle is stuck in a cut potato, and placed at intervals round the circle; and within this not very brilliant illumination, the cadets dance with each other to the excellent music of the band. Those who personate ladies, take hold of their little bob-tailed jackets, and prink and mince, and take fine airs upon themselves, and look so precisely like fine ladies, that the real fine ladies looking at them, want to give them a good shaking.

But the children went off into fits of laughter at the long and quizzical shadows on the ground. When the cadets dance a figure, their shadows look like a company of sickly, melancholy monkeys, which dodge about in a distracting way, and look so irre sistibly funny, that everybody shouts with laughter – and it is a very merry spectacle.

Then this pleasant family had the most delightful tea parties in an arbor at the back of the house. To be sure the ear-wigs and daddy-long-legs, would drop into their tea once in a while, making them first squeal, and jump up, and then laugh, and a grasshopper or two, would hop suddenly on the cake, and hop more suddenly off, before they could catch him; but what of that? Some people shriek so if a grasshopper hops near them, you would think it was an elephant come to pack them up in his trunk, for the rest of their lives; but these children had more sense, and did not mind a little insect a thousand times smaller than themselves.

And now I must come to a sad, sad part of my story – I dread to begin it – and would gladly have told you a great deal more about the fairies, and what they did for Charley; but Mr. Appleton says, you would not like to have the same story go through two books, and this, I am afraid, is already too long.

But I must relate one circumstance. Charley had retired to his little bed one evening earlier than usual; dark, lowering clouds had sped quickly over the sky, soon after he fell asleep. The tops of the high trees, skirting the fairy hollow, waved restlessly to and fro, and the angry growls of the thunder portended a violent storm. This night, there was to have been a festival in the beautiful hollow.

As the fairies flew along in the troubled air, and the Queen tried vainly to charm away the coming tempest, (for they were to carry Charley to the hollow that night,) a dark form, like gathered mist, went slowly past, her head bent, her arms folded.

And now, the lightnings came with a blinding glare, and the grand booming of Heaven's artillery awoke the solemn echoes. Fast the affrighted, shuddering fairies sped away, to hide under the fern leaves, and in the tiny caves at the foot of the rocks. But the misty, shadowy form still floated past, till it arrived at the open window of Charley's room.

With noiseless motion it glided to the bed, bent over Charley, and whispered in a soft, sweet voice, "Beloved one, you are taken away in your early and lovely spring-time, because for you, to live, is to suffer. You will go where there are no storms, no sorrows, no sufferings; clasped in my arms, you will sleep, and be at rest forever."

And Charley smiled lovingly upon the Angel of Death, and his sleep grew deeper, and calmer, and sweeter. But the next day, he told his mother, and sisters, and brothers, of his mournful visitor, who had passed out of the window into the veiling clouds, and disappeared. The children burst into passionate weeping, and clasped him in their arms, and refused to let him go. The little mother knew he had been dreaming as before; but alas! she knew also only too well, that her darling's time had come. He suffered no pain; but he became weaker and weaker, and life was slowly but surely ebbing away. Consumption, that fell disease, had nearly finished her baleful work, and his lamp of life, flickering and dim, would soon pass away into the dark valley of the shadow of death.

God knew best, and in His infinite wisdom saw fit to take Charley out of this wearisome world, in which, if he had lived, he would suffer so much.

But the child was so much beloved. He was the sunlight of the house; and the pang of parting would be so cruel. They knew that they would meet again in the place Jesus had prepared for them in His Father's house – they knew that; but how could they help grieving now?

The good doctor came every day, and used his utmost skill, for he dearly loved the sweet, patient child; but it was of no avail, Charley's everlasting HOME was ready for him.

Slowly and sadly the poor children wandered around; for their sorrow pressed like a weight upon them. They would come softly to his bedside, smooth his golden hair, and kiss his forehead, and hope he would yet get well; then seeing his pallid face, and little wasted hands lying so still outside of the white bedspread, they would go hastily away, and shed bitter, bitter tears; vainly struggling to repress them, lest he should hear and be grieved.

The joyous little birds still sang in the trees; the majestic Highlands still rose in the blue air; and the splendid sunset clouds still covered their summits with a glory; the glittering water was beautiful as ever. The drums beat to reveille, and crowds of gay people walked about the parade-ground.

And Charley was dying.

Even now, the loving guardian angels were waiting on the other side of the dark valley, to conduct this summer blossom to his heavenly home. Myriads of little children were tuning their golden harps, to greet his purified spirit with a hymn of joyful welcome, and Jesus was saying, "Come."

And now, his last day on earth was passing – lovely and serene. Charley's little bed had been moved in the afternoon, close to the open window, where he could see the white sails gliding by on the smooth silvery water. A peace from within, not of this world, illuminated his sweet face. He had sent for all his brothers and sisters, and with a faint voice, and at broken intervals, was talking to them, and giving to each one some little trifle belonging to him; and one by one, convulsed with sobs, they would rush from the room – and after a painful struggle would return, with their tears forced back; their loving gaze fastened upon him, whom in a few short hours they would see no more.

When the good doctor entered, and saw that the end was so near, his features worked painfully, and covering his face with his hands, in another moment the great scalding tears trickled through. This brave man, in the midst of battle, with the death strokes falling right and left, and the great cannons booming destruction before him, had walked without fear or flinching among the dead and wounded, giving help and succor; but now, loving and tender-hearted as he was brave, he had covered his face, and was weeping like a child.

"Tell the doctor not to cry," whispered the dying boy. "I am going home to Jesus. I am going now," he said, with a gasping sigh. "Kiss me, mother. Oh! how I thank you for all your love and kindness. I thank you all; I bless you all. God bless you all;" and thus to the end, grateful and loving, Charley spoke his last words.

For now his silken hair lay heavy and damp upon his snow-white forehead; and as the solemn twilight deepened into shade, and the first star broke like a promise in the sky, one little upward fluttering sigh was heard, and they knew that this life was ended, and Charley was winging his bright way to HEAVEN.

Not a word was spoken, not a sob broke the stillness. The moonbeams, struggling into the room, disclosed the little mother on her knees by the small white couch, her head buried in the white coverings. The children sat sorrow-stricken, motionless, almost breath less, their eyes fastened on the face of the dead child, in a despairing hope that he might speak again; but not a breath stirred those still lips. The good doctor, after a while, tenderly raised the heart-broken mother, and led her away, and then sending for some kind neighbors, they gently and lovingly prepared the remains of Charley for their last quiet resting-place.

How lovely now looked what was left of the good and lovely boy. The glistening golden curls pressed closely around the broad, open brow, white as a lily, and a heaven-sent smile just parted the pale lips. The leaves of a cluster of white roses curled around his little hands, which were folded so tenderly above his stilled and quiet heart; and every flower that he loved was placed with tears and kisses all about him.

But oh! what a desolate cry arose in those children's hearts when the little coffin was closed, and the sweet, peaceful face was seen no more. Charley was in heaven – Charley was happy, but they wanted him, they wanted him.

It seemed so cruel that the world should go on gay as ever, and their Charley dead. They wondered, as they came on board the boat, which was to carry what was left of their darling back to New York, they wondered why every face was not tearful, when theirs was so full of sorrow.

They made a little grave for him in the beautiful Greenwood Cemetery. The soft moonlight sleeps lovingly upon it, and people tread lightly as they approach and read the name of "Lame Charley."

Slowly and sadly passed the rest of the summer, for the little mother told no more stories. Once she tried, for she could not bear to see the sad faces of her children; alas! that one vanished face, with its sweet, grateful smile, and little tender ways, came before her, and the story was lost in a flood of tears.

But late one lovely evening, as she was sitting by the open window, thinking of her loved and lost one, some friend, unseen beneath, sang these words, to a sweet and tender melody —

"Mildly, sweet summer moon,Shine on this mother, weeping;Whisper within her heart,'He is not dead, but sleeping.'"Softly, sweet summer stars,Evermore vigil keeping,Tell her, in steadfast tones,'He is not dead, but sleeping.'"Gently, sweet summer wind,All things in perfume steeping;Breathe in her sorrowing soul,'He is not dead, but sleeping;"'And safe in Jesus' arms,His great reward is reaping.'Up! mother, up! and cry,'He is not dead, but sleeping.'"

A faint flush passed over the mother's pale cheek, for she knew that some one who loved her, had thus tenderly warned her that her grief was not endured as hopefully as it should be. She had not remembered that her beloved Charley was only "gone before, not lost."

With an earnest, prayerful effort, she once more grew cheerful, and with her cheerfulness came happiness to the children's hearts, though they all their lives will remember their good, pure, and tenderly beloved brother – whom you, dear little reader, also love, and know as

LAME CHARLEY

Dear little readers, you and I have now followed Charley together through six books, in which his life, and the lives of his brothers and sisters, have been faithfully portrayed. If the good and pure life of the little lame child, now happy in heaven, gives you one steadfast resolution, to endeavor, from this time forth, to lead a good and pure life, it will gladden the inmost heart of your loving

Aunt Fanny.

THE END