The Fairchild Family

by Mary Martha Sherwood

"They had stripped him of his velvet, and feathers, and lace, and gold clasps, and studs, and clothed him in rags, and daubed his fair skin with mud; but they fed him well; and after a little while he seemed to be unconscious of any change.

"Now, the part which comes next of this true and wonderful history has nothing to go upon but the confused and imperfect recollections of a little child.

"The story nowhere tells the age of Edwy when he was stolen, but he had been lost to his parents from the time that the leaves in the forest of Norwood were becoming sear and falling off, till the sweet spring was far advanced towards the summer.

"Probably the cunning gipsies had hoped that during the long months of winter the little child would quite forget the few words which he had learned to speak distinctly in his father's house, or that he would forget also to call himself Edwy; or to cry, as he remembered that he often did, 'Oh, mamma, mamma! papa, papa! come to little Edwy.' The gipsies tried to teach him that his name was not Edwy, but Jack or Tom, or some such name; and to make him say mam and dad, and call himself the gipsy boy, born in a barn. But after he had learned all these words, whenever anything hurt or frightened him, he would cry again, 'Mamma! papa!

come to Edwy.' The gipsies could not take him out, of course, whilst there was danger of his breaking out in this way; and after he came to that hut in the valley, he did not remember ever going out with any of the people when they went their rounds of begging, and pilfering, and buying rags; telling fortunes meanwhile, as gipsies always do.

"When left behind, there were always two or three children, a great girl, an old woman, or a sick person, staying with him, until the day which set him free from his troubles. It was in the month of May. Who would not like to live like a gipsy in a wood, if all the year round was like that month of May? It was about noon, and Edwy, who had been up before the sun, to breakfast with those who were going out for their day's begging and stealing, had fallen asleep on a bed of dry leaves in the hut, as soon as most of the people were gone; one old woman, who was too lame to tramp, was left with him.

"He slept long, and when he awoke he sat up on his bed of leaves, and looked about him to see who was with him; he saw no one within the hut, and no one at the doorway.

"Little children have great dread of being alone. He listened to hear if there were any voices without, but he could hear nothing but the rush of a waterfall close by, and the distant cry of sheep and lambs. The next thing the little one remembered that he did, was to get up and go out of the door of the hut. The hut was built of rude rafters and wattles in the front of a cave or hole in a rock; it was down low in the glen at the edge of the brook, a little below the waterfall. When the child came out, he looked anxiously for somebody, and was more and more frightened when he could see no creature of his own kind amid all the green leaves, and all along the water's edge above and below.

"Where was the old woman all this time? who can say? but perhaps not far off; perhaps she might have been deaf, and, though near, did not hear the noise made by the child when he came out of the hut.

"Edwy did not remember how long he stood by the brook; but this is certain that the longer he felt himself to be alone, the more frightened he became, and soon began to fancy terrible things. There was towards the top of the rock from which the waters fell a huge old yew-tree, or rather bush, which hung forward over the fall. It looked very black in comparison with the tender green of the fresh leaves of the neighbouring trees, and the white and glittering spray of the water. Edwy looked at it and fancied that it moved; his eye was deceived by the dancing motion of the water.