The Rain; or, the Child, the Fairy, and the Magic Bird.
A loving fairy watched over the slumbers of a beautiful child. The little maiden seemed to be dreaming uneasily, for she turned often in her sleep, then she rubbed a little ring on her finger, and then waving her arm upwards, she sang:—
“Rain, rain,
Go away.
Come again
Another day—
Little Johnny
Wants to play.”
“Mary! Mary! my pretty one!” said the kind fairy, “what is the matter? That magic ring, which I gave you,—you have been rubbing it for the last ten minutes,—what is it you want with me?”
“Did I rub the ring?” said Mary, starting up; “I did not know that:—but I do want you, dear fairy. You must know that I and my brother Johnny are invited to my auntie’s to-morrow, provided it be fine weather. It has been raining almost every day for the last week, and last night it looked very black, as if it would rain again. Now, dear fairy, grant me a favour?—Give me and Johnny a fine day for our visit to auntie’s.”
The fairy looked tenderly on the child, but yet grave. “Mary, my sweet, did I not tell you, when I gave you the magic ring, that you were not to summon me except when you wanted comfort, or advice, or help to strengthen your character? I said you were never to ask gifts of me, nor any change of outward circumstances. However, it is well you have called me; for I have something to tell you. I am about to leave the Fairy realm for a short time, and during my absence I cannot answer the rubbing of the ring. But I will not leave you without some help. Until my return, I will lend you one of the birds that sing in the gardens of our Fairy-land.”
The fairy struck three times with her wand upon the floor, and a moment or two afterwards three or four little hands were lifted up, holding a golden bird-cage, with a beautiful canary in it.
“There, my child, cherish this little bird tenderly. Let the door of its cage be open all day, that it may wander about the garden where it will. It will not go away from you very far. Every night it will sleep in its cage.”
Mary looked on the little bird, and was greatly pleased. She put her lips to the golden wires, and the pretty little creature came and kissed them. She opened the door, and it flew upon her finger and sang, and with its pretty round eyes looked into hers, and played with its beak about her pretty mouth.
“Oh, fairy! dear fairy! a beautiful bird indeed! I will take great care of it, for I love it tenderly.”
“My child,” said the fairy, “I have lent you this beautiful creature for your good, not for your amusement merely. This little bird has the power of speaking to you when you need it. Listen attentively to his songs, and let the meaning and spirit of them sink deep into your heart.”
So saying, the fairy went away, and left Mary alone with the bird. For awhile the pleasure of looking at it quite filled her mind. Its beautiful plumage, its little round sparkling eye, its pretty, affectionate ways, its clear, sweet note, were always delightful and charming. After a time, however, she remembered the day’s pleasure that had been promised to her at her aunt’s, and she lifted up the blind of the window to look at the weather.
O dear! dear! it rained worse than ever!—Drip, drip, drip—patter, patter, patter. Little bits of spongy cloud kept scudding overhead, sometimes black and sometimes grey, sometimes dropping a good drenching shower, and sometimes only a drizzling sheet of spray. The roads were soft and miry, with little pools of water here and there, through which the horses and carts passed with a splashing sound. Mary sighed. She thought of her aunt’s beautiful garden and meadow, of the games of play with her cousins, of the swing under the boughs of the mulberry tree, of the pet lamb and the little dog, and little Johnny trotting about and enjoying it all; and then she looked out into the gloomy rain. How vexatious! “Rain, rain, go away!” the lips of the little maiden pouted, and presently she began to cry.
“Swe-et!—swe-et!” said the little bird, from his golden cage, and then he broke out into song:—
“Oh! Foolish little maid to pray
The fruitful rain to go away.
Showers as well as sunbeams fall,
From that deep Soul which loveth all;
Dark or bright, the Heavens are full
Of mercies—sweet and beautiful.”
“Ah, little bird! is that you, dearest?” said Mary; “I did not mean to ask anything improper. I know the rain is very beautiful; but then so much of it, you know—and just at this time, too, when we are invited to auntie’s! O! really, little bird, it is very, very——”
But the little bird would not hear more. He drowned her voice with loud carollings, and he kept on singing all the day, while the rain fell and pattered against the window-panes. All the day long it rained without ceasing. When the evening came, it held up for awhile, but the sky was still dark and lowering. Mary retired to her bed-room for the night, and placed her little bird on the dressing-table near the window; and when she had said her evening prayer, and lain down on her pillow with a quiet heart, the little creature gave one long-drawn note of song, and a calm sleep came over both bird and child. Once during the night, the veil of clouds parted for a moment, and a glowing little star sent a ray of its beauty into the room; but the darkness folded over it again, and when the morning came and Mary got up, it rained. Again! Still disappointment! Little Johnny, at the breakfast-table, kept on asking why he did not go to auntie’s; and it required a good deal of talking and coaxing to keep him from crying about it.
Just as breakfast was over, who should ride up to the door but Thomas, auntie’s groom, mounted on a beautiful bay mare, but splashed up to the very saddle-girths, with mud and mire. Thomas brought a letter to Mary’s mamma, to say that the visit of the children would better be put off for a few days. At present, the lawn was soddened with water, and all the paths were wet and muddy. As the children wanted to amuse themselves out of doors, they must wait not only till the weather was fine, but also till the ground was dry. Now, to the ears of poor Mary and little Johnny, this sounded like a putting off of the invitation altogether. Johnny cried about it sadly, and Mary, partly out of love to him, and partly from her own disappointment, felt much inclined to cry too. She ran up to her bed-room, and tried to drive back the tears, by thinking of something bright and cheerful; but it was very difficult, for the pattering of the rain went on, and as the drops broke and melted on the window, they ran down it like tears. The furniture of the room was clammy and unpleasant to the touch, and now and then a big rain-drop fell down the chimney into the fire-place, and sounded on the bright fender. Altogether, it was very dismal. Mary looked up to her little bird; his round bright eye twinkled as bright and happy as ever. She remembered what he had said about the skies being always full of beauty, and she knew that it was true; but still she did long for the sunshine, and she could not help talking to her little pet about it:—“Oh, when will the sunshine come, my pretty bird? when will the sunshine come?”
“Swe-et! swe-et?” said the bird:—
“When the troubled breast is still,
And duty guides and shapes the will;—
When holy feelings upward stray,
And meet the love of Heaven mid-way—
In the heart without guile
The sweet sunbeams shall smile,
And joy all around,
Like music-drops, sound.”
“Ah, little bird, you talk just like the fairy!—She speaks to me about the inward sunshine; but, dear little bird, I want to know when the outward sunshine will come?”
The bird was silent. Presently it hopped out of its cage—perched upon her finger—kissed her on the lips—and passed its little bill up and down her cheek, in such a fondling way, that she felt tears of love and tenderness in her eyes. She caressed the little bird, and thought no more of the rain; and she made up her mind, that happen what might, rain or sunshine, disappointment or not, she would leave off her murmuring. So, with a calm bright countenance, she went about all her duties; and little Johnny, touched by her kindness, and amused by her playfulness, grew quite content to have the promised visit to auntie’s put off for a little while.
The whole week continued showery. Some days there were several hours of sunshine, which seemed to give promise of brighter weather; then came an hour of rain, which drenched the gardens and the roads, and made play out-of-doors impossible. But now, it had no effect on the temper of little Mary. She would have liked fine weather better than wet, a great deal better indeed; but she was gradually learning to bear disappointment; the inward sunshine was brightening in her heart. One day, when there had been a good many intervals of sunshine, and the showers had passed over quickly, she was playing with little Johnny in the parlour, when she suddenly heard her bird singing loudly, and calling to her with his “swe-et! swe-et!”
“Ah! my pretty one! I am coming! Darling has got something to say to me!”
She hurried up to her room, and the bird sang:—
“See where hope and beauty glow,
Dancing down the bending bow.”
She opened the window, and looked out over the landscape. There was a most lovely rainbow in the skies. It arched over a broad heaven, and the green earth beneath it sent up a grateful fragrance, and all the flowers looked up lovingly at the rainbow, and gave it smile for smile. Water-drops twinkled like stars among the green leaves of the gently waving trees; and, as the sunbeams glistened on the gilt vane of the distant church-spire, it gleamed in the air like a tongue of golden flame. What a chirping from the green boughs and the hedge-rows! The lark in the sky sent messages of love down to the linnet in the brushwood, and the robin on the thorn. The breeze sprung up, and sang through the leafy boughs of the Poplar and the Elm, and light and music mingled together, as if nature had clustered her beauties and joys for a service of thanksgiving. Far and wide, and upward, spread the various melody. It seemed as if every voice had wings, fluttering with delight, and bearing away into the blue air the silent gratitude of the flowers, and the prayers of all beautiful though voiceless things. Mary sat at the window, and with cheek resting on her hand, she looked over the beautiful scene. The beauty-drops all around trickled to the very roots of her affections; her heart throbbed, her eyes glistened, and the breathing of her bosom heaved it as gently as if the waves of some soft music-stream were flowing there. She saw that all was good—storm and calm, rain and sunshine, summer and winter—all was good; and her young spirit hallowed it, and rested in a sabbath of calm. Presently the rainbow melted away, the clouds fell to the horizon, and the sun spread his bright beams over a broad, blue sky. Mary put on her little straw-hat, and went down into the garden. Near the steps was a large flower-pot, with a rose-tree in it. It was half-blown; the rain-drops were glistening in its leaves; its fragrance was passing into the air, and making it delicious and sweet; its blushing tints were exquisitely lovely; the mere looking at the rainbow seemed to have increased its beauty. Mary took the flower in her hand—smelled it—kissed its leaves—and then a pulse of music throbbed at her heart, and the little maiden sang:—
“I dream of my Rose when the spirits of light
Dance on the beautiful margins of night,
And the mists of the morning unclose;
When at murmuring eve, the angel of rest
Foldeth us lovingly close to her breast,
Then I think of my own pretty Rose.
Beautiful world, that so well can impart
The lessons of loveliness fit for the heart!
A stream of sweet tenderness flows
From bird and from flower—from streamlet and sky—
From beauty below and from beauty on high,
And the smiles of my own pretty Rose.”
“Ah! Miss Mary!” said a voice, “I am always glad to hear you sing, and particularly such a happy, thankful song as that.”
Mary started, for she did not know that any one was by to hear her sing. She turned, and saw the farmer’s wife, one of their nearest neighbours, who had come in silently by the garden-wicket, with a milk-pail in her hand, which she was going to take into the kitchen.
“We are going to have a change of weather at last, Miss!”
“Are we?” said Mary. “How do you know that?”
“The wind that is blowing now has dried up a good deal of wet already, and my husband says, that if it goes on blowing in the night, it will be quite dry under foot by to-morrow morning.”
“I am very glad to hear it,” said Mary, “for Johnny and I have been engaged, for some time past, to go to my aunt’s; but the rain has prevented us. To-morrow, you think there is a chance for us, do you?”
“I have no doubt of it, my dear; but if you like, I will give you a signal of fair weather early in the morning. You know my boy Jem minds his father’s sheep on those downs yonder. He plays the flageolet pretty well, and he always takes it with him to amuse himself when he is alone on the hills. When the wind is blowing from the quarter where it is now, you can hear him very plainly, as you sometimes have, no doubt. I will tell him to play to-morrow morning, about six o’clock; and if you can hear him, you may be sure that the wind is in the dry quarter, and may reckon on a fine day.”
“Thank you!” said Mary, “let it be so, if you please. Tell him to play loud and well.”
That day passed in happy, tranquil beauty. A fresh breeze swept over the hills and leas, and sang through the boughs all the evening long; and when the little maiden went to bed, its murmuring hushed her to slumber. Pleasant was her sleep, and beautiful and innocent her dreams! Tick, tick, tick! went the clock upon the stair-case, and the wind went on whistling and sighing through all the night hours. At five o’clock in the morning, the light shone strong into the bed-chamber, and every cock in the neighbourhood was crowing. The little maiden turned over on her pillow; but she still slept. Six o’clock! and not awake yet? Suddenly the little bird fluttered his wings, and gave a long shake of his music at the very top of his voice. Then he sang:—
“What! my maiden—sleeping still?
Hark! the music on the hill!”
Mary awoke, and the first sounds she heard after the calling of her bird, were the notes of a flageolet from the downs. She got up and dressed, drew up the blind of her window and looked out—and, oh! what a clear, dry, beautiful, fresh, sparkling morning!
Oh! happy day! Now, Johnny, my dear, we shall go to auntie’s, and play in the meadow and garden through the bright sunny hours. Up! up! and be stirring every one! Get the breakfast over in a twinkling, and out with the pony chaise! Now they are off! Johnny and Mary, side by side, and one of her fond arms around him.
Auntie’s was an exceedingly nice place to go to. She had an excellent house, and beautiful grounds attached to it. There was a lawn and shrubbery, and flower-beds, and fountain, a dog and a peacock, and, oh! such a beautiful little pet lamb! Cousins Julia and George wove a garland of flowers and gave it to Johnny, who put it round the lamb’s neck. Mary got a basin of milk from the kitchen, and the gentle little creature lapped it from her hand.
Thus, sometimes out of doors, sometimes in, sometimes in the greenhouse and shrubbery, sometimes in the paddock,—sometimes playing with the dog, sometimes with the lamb, and always with each other, the happy children flew on the wings of golden hours to the evening of the day.
While the chaise was being got ready to take them home, Mary wandered alone for a moment or two into a retired part of the garden, and while there, she carelessly, and without thinking of what she did, rubbed the magic ring upon her finger.
The fairy instantly appeared.
“What, Fairy! have you come back again? I was not thinking of you. I did not know that I had rubbed the ring. I did not intend to trouble you.”
“I know you did not; but I have come for all that. Mary, my child, I am very happy indeed, to find that you have attended so well to my little bird, and that you have grown so patient and spiritual. I have come now to say that the time has arrived when we fairies must have our gifts returned to us. Give me that little ring from your finger.”
The little maiden obeyed, and put the ring into the fairy’s hand.
“Good, my child! what I am now going to say to you will, I fear, be rather painful. It is this:—by the time you get home you will find I have taken away the beautiful magic bird. You remember that it was but a loan until my return?”
“Oh, dear Fairy! don’t! don’t! Pray don’t take it away,” cried the child, bursting into tears.
“Hush, my pretty one! Remember you are not, and never will be, without the teaching of beautiful things. Has not every bird in the skies a voice for you? Do not the rainbows speak of love and beauty? Do not your own roses breathe sweet affection on you? And the wind, and the rain, and the stars, and the trees, have they not already been teachers of wisdom to you? My darling, you are not forgotten! ‘Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth forth knowledge’ for you and for all that are willing to learn.”
The fairy vanished. Mary bowed her head and dried up her tears. She went into the house, kissed her aunt and cousins affectionately, and went home with Johnny in the pony chaise.
Her after life was something like this experience of her youth. It had its rainy season and its disappointments; it had its rainbow of hope and beauty; it had its winds and its storms; its sunshine and its calms; and it had, too, a still small voice within it singing like a magic bird. By listening to what it said and obeying it, she made it on the whole a life of happiness and beauty.
