The event produced great commotion in the Faery circle and all looked to the Queen to see what was to be done. The Queen instantly called her bugler, the tame Musquito, and bade him call the scattered Faeries all about her. So they came every one about the dandelion throne, and the herald of the Queen—the Fly in his blue coat, made proclamation that a child had been born and that it was a rare thing, and an excellent fortune both to Faeries and to the child, that it would be born upon the first day of the year. "Wherefore," he concluded, "let all the Faeries here gathered proceed as before and accompany the Queen to the place where the child lies, and let the gifts that have been brought to the Queen be carried by trusty servants."
So they set out as before in exactly the same order, except that the House-Faeries and the Sea-Faeries were not there. The Daddy-long-legs cleared the way to the door of the house, and the band of Crickets played their sweetest air—'twas the Birth of the Daisy in fact. Arrived at the door the Daddy-long-legs took their place in lines upon each side of the step, and the Cricket band sate upon the scraper, for these might not enter. But the Faeries preceded by their Queen did enter, and their gifts went with them. They came into the room where little Janet lay. The House-Faeries were already there with hushed movements and ordering everything about the room. Around the bed gathered the hosts of Faeries—even the Faeries of the stream were there, a little drier than usual, though the House-Faeries made them keep on the outer circle.
The Queen was in the centre directly over little Janet. She bent nearer and nearer until she stood upon the forehead. She touched it with her lips, and that was the seal by which she signified that the newborn child of New-Year's Day was to be gifted with all that Faeries could give. The gifts which the Queen had received that night were freely offered to the little child. They were laid at her feet. None there saw them for none but the Faeries and the child could know of them. Each Faery, too, in the fulness of love and joy offered other gifts directly from their own nature; the Gypsy Faeries were very generous. They withdrew then and the Queen was left alone. She had her gift yet to bestow. "All of these," said she, "have richly endowed this child of New-Years Day." She looked at the gifts and knew that there was one thing wanting, yet she dreaded to bestow it. "It must be," she murmured, and kissing once more the brow of the child, dropped a tear upon it. Then she too left. The gifts were complete but the Queen was sad.
"She is a child of earth," she said, as she turned away; "it must be so."
The festivities of the day were finished and all was quiet in the Garden. The moon now rose and soon its light touched the Lilac Bush. At the touch the sweet perfume of the Lilac rose like a cloud of incense from the Bush. The air was filled with it, but the Bush was now deserted. "It was a great gift," it said, "that I should be permitted to have so much enjoyment. I am indeed happy, though twelve long months must pass before I bloom again, and these blossoms now upon me have lost their fragrance and shall fall to the ground. Yes, it is sweet to live, even though one's flowers die and one's fragrance is lost."
But the fragrance was not lost. It rose higher and higher; the clouds kept it not back and it ascended even to heaven.
Horace E. Scudder
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL: A Biography. With portraits and other illustrations, an Appendix, and a full Bibliography. 2 vols.
MEN AND LETTERS. Essays in Characterization and Criticism.