"Then away; a wish will place you in their midst—a thought return you here."
So with the wish and thought Corney went and came back.
"Well, what didst thou see?" inquired the Fairy King.
"The divil a haperth," replied Corney, "but a mighty black and most unwholesomely damp cloud."
"What should that teach you?"
"Never to thravel without an umbrella, yer honor, I suppose," answered Corney, who to say the truth, was a little obtuse.
"Fool," said the fairy, "since I cannot lesson thee, go to thy kindred earth, and learn experience from realities. Proceed to the chamber of the man whose good fortune thou enviest; then to thine own, and if thou art not satisfied with thy condition, seek me again, and meet with thy reward. Away!"
As if by magic, the brilliant assembly dispersed like clouds of gold-dust floating on the wind, and Corney was left alone.
"That's a mighty high sort o' chap," said Corney, "but I suppose I'd betther do what he towld me for fear'd he'd turn spiteful."
So Corney wished himself within the chamber of Blake, and there he saw the most piteous sight earth can produce: a young mother weeping tears of agony over the body of her first-born. A man stood beside her with features set and hard, as though turned to stone by hopeless grief.