“Oh, see how beautifully the setting sun shines slanting through the boughs, on the trunk, and branches! It glows like gold!” exclaimed Ernest.
“If the sun were like old Midas, that we read about at school, there would be some fun in it,” replied Alfred; “for if it turned all it touched into gold, I could peel off the bark and buy a horse with it.”
Ernest gazed silently at the golden sea of clouds in the west, and then at the warm gleams it cast on the old walnut tree. He stood thus but a moment; for his companion aimed a nut at his head, and shouted, “Make haste to fill the basket, you lazy fellow!”
The nuts were soon gathered, and the boys stretched themselves on the grass, talking over school affairs. A flock of birds flew over their heads towards the south. “They are flying away from winter,” said Ernest. “How I should like to go with them where the palms and cocoas grow! See how beautifully they skim along the air!”
“I wish I had a gun,” rejoined Alfred; “I would have some of them for supper.”
It was a mild autumnal twilight. The cows had gone from the pastures, and all was still, save the monotonous noise of the crickets. The fitful whistling of the boys gradually subsided into dreamy silence. As they lay thus, winking drowsily, Ernest saw a queer little dwarf peep from under an arching root of the walnut tree. His little dots of blue eyes looked cold and opaque, as if they were made of turquoise. His hands were like the claws of a bird. But he was surely a gentleman of property and standing, for his brown velvet vest was embroidered with gold, and a diamond fastened his hat-band. While Ernest wondered who he could be, his attention was attracted by a bright little vision hovering in the air before him. At first, he thought it was a large insect, or a small bird; but as it floated ever nearer and nearer, he perceived a lovely little face, with tender, luminous eyes. Her robe seemed like soap-bubbles glancing in the sun, and in her bonnet, made of an inverted White Petunia blossom, the little ringlets shone like finest threads of gold. The stamen of a White Lily served her for a wand, and she held it towards him, saying, in tones of soft beseechment, “Let me touch your eyes!”
“You had better touch my wand. You will find it much more to the purpose,” croaked the dwarf under the walnut root. “Look here! wouldn’t you like to have this?” and he shook a purse full of coins, as he spoke.
“I don’t like your cold eyes and your skinny fingers,” replied Ernest. “Pray, who are you?”
“My name is Utouch,” answered the gnome: “and I bring great luck wherever I go.”
“And what is your name, dear little spirit of the air?” asked Ernest.