Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art, Fifth Series, No. 11, Vol. I, March 15, 1884

No. 11.—Vol. I.
Price 1½ d.
SATURDAY, MARCH 15, 1884.
By firelight, the children had heard a traveller’s tale about the mirage of the desert—the distant vision of tufted palms and green herbage, the promise of water, and shade, and rest. They had heard how the delusion flies, baffling pursuit, always seeming to stand at an attainable distance across the hot sands, always infinitely far, till it fades, because on their path it has no tangible existence. It is the delusive image of something existing elsewhere, and elsewhere perhaps unasked and uncared for by others, who reckon the oasis worth but little when their ambition is restless for the object of their journey.
‘That story won’t do!’ piped a little voice from the hearthrug, where golden hair was glistening full in the light like a heavenly aureola about an earthly dissatisfied face.
From within a cluster of boys and girls clinging to the armchair, the victim had of course to tell a fairy tale instead, down to the inevitable ending, ‘And they were happy ever after.’
‘Perkly happy?’ asked the small voice from the hearthrug.
‘Perfectly happy.’
‘Was there never a wet day ?’
‘No; there was never a wet day in their part of the world.’
(Immediate flank attack and strategic surprise:) ‘Then their seeds wouldn’t come up. How did they manage?’
‘They were perfectly happy all the same.’