Say not Good Night; but in some brighter clime
Bid me Good Morning!
THE MYSTERIOUS PILGRIMAGE.
By L. MARIA CHILD.
There was a traveller who set out upon a new road, not knowing whither it would lead him, nor whence he came, for he had been conveyed thither blindfold, and the bandage had been removed in his sleep. When he woke up he found himself among all sorts of pretty novelties, and he ran about hither and thither, eagerly asking, “What is this?” “What is that?” His activity was untiring. He tried to catch everything he saw, and hold it fast in his hand. But humming-birds whirred in his ears, and as soon as he tried to grasp them they soared up out of his reach, and left him gazing at their burnished throats glistening in the sunshine. Daintily painted butterflies poised themselves on such lowly flowers, that he thought he had but to stoop and take them; but they also floated away as soon as he approached. He walked through stately groves, where the sunshine was waltzing with leaf-shadows, and he tried to pick up the airy little dancers. “They won’t let me catch ’em!” he exclaimed, petulantly. But on he hurried in pursuit of a squirrel, which ran nimbly away from him up into a tree, and there he sat on the high boughs, flourishing his pretty tail in the air. And so the traveller went along the wondrous road, always trying for something he couldn’t catch, not knowing that the pleasure was in the pursuit.
As he went on, the path widened and grew more attractive. Birds of radiant colors flitted about, and filled the air with charming variations of melody. Trees threw down showers of blossoms as he passed, and beneath his feet was a carpet of emerald-colored velvet, embroidered with a profusion of golden stars. Better than all, troops of handsome young men and lovely maidens joined him, all put blindfolded into the road, and travelling they knew not whither. And now they all set out upon a race after something higher up than squirrels or butterflies could go. “Look there! Look there! See what is before us!” they exclaimed. And lo! they all saw, away beyond, on hills of fleecy cloud, the most beautiful castles! The walls were of pearl, and rainbow pennons waved from the gold-pointed turrets. “We will take possession of those beautiful castles! That is where we are going to live!” they shouted to each other; and on they ran in pursuit of the rainbows. But they often paused in the chase, to frolic together. They laughed, and sang merry songs, and pelted each other with flowers, and danced within a ring of roses. It was a beautiful sight to see their silky ringlets tossed about by the breeze, and shining in the sunlight. But the game they liked best was looking into each other’s eyes. They said they could see a blind boy there, with a bow and arrow; and always they were playing bo-peep with that blind boy, who wasn’t so blind as he seemed; for whenever he aimed his arrow at one of them, he was almost sure to hit. But they said the arrow was wreathed with flowers, and carried honey on its point; and there was nothing they liked quite so well as being shot at by the blind boy.
Sometimes their sport was interrupted by some stern-looking traveller, who said to them, in solemn tones, “Why do you make such fools of yourselves? Do you know whither this road leads?” Then they looked at each other bewildered, and said they did not. “I have been on this road much longer than you have,” he replied; “and I think it is my duty to turn back sometimes and warn those who are coming after me. I tell you this road, where you go dancing so carelessly, abounds with pitfalls, generally concealed by flowers; and it ends in an awful, deep, dark hole. You are all running, like crazy fools, after rainbow castles in the air. You will never come up with them. They will vanish and leave nothing but a great black cloud. But what you have most to fear is a cruel giant, who is sure to meet you somewhere on the road. Nobody ever knows where; for he is invisible. Whatever he touches with his dart turns first to marble and then to ashes. You ought to be thinking of him and his dreadful arrow, instead of the foolish archer that you call the blind boy. Instead of chattering about roses and rainbows, you ought to be thinking of the awful black pit at the end of the road.”
His words chilled the young men and maidens, like wind from a cavern. They looked at each other thoughtfully, and said, “Why does he try to spoil our sport with stories of pitfalls and invisible giants? We don’t know where the pitfalls are; and if we go poking on the ground for them, how can we see the sunshine and the birds?” Some of the more merry began to laugh at the solemn traveller, and soon they were all dancing again, or hurrying after the rainbow castles. They threw roses at each other by the way; and often the little blind archer was in the heart of the roses, and played them mischievous tricks. They laughed merrily, and said to each other, “This is a beautiful road. It is a pity old Howlit don’t know how to enjoy it.”
But as our traveller passed on his way, he found that the words of the lugubrious prophet were sometimes verified. Now and then some of his companions danced into pitfalls covered with flowers. He himself slipped several times, but recovered his balance, and said it would teach him to walk more carefully. Others were bruised and faint in consequence of falls, and made no effort to rise up. In the kindness of his heart, he would not leave them thus; but always he tried to cheer them, saying, “Up, and try again, my brother! You won’t make the same mistake again.” Cheerful and courageous as he was, however, he saw the rainbow castles gradually fading from his vision; but they did not leave a great black cloud, as the solemn traveller had foretold; they melted into mild and steady sunlight. The young men and maidens, who had frolicked with him, went off in pairs, some into one bypath, some into another. Hand in hand with our traveller went a gentle companion, named Mary, in whose eyes he had long been playing at bo-peep with the blind boy. When they talked of this, they said they could still see him in each other’s eye-mirrors, but now he had put his arrows into the quiver, and was stringing pearls. Mary brought little children to her companion, and they were more charming than all the playthings of their former time. They gazed fondly into the eyes of the little strangers, and said, “We see angels in these azure depths, and they are lovelier than the blind boy ever was.” They played no more with roses now, but gathered ripe fruits, glowing like red and purple jewels, and planted grain which grew golden in the sunshine. Companions with whom they had parted by the way occasionally came into their path again, as they journeyed on. Their moods were various, according to their experiences. Some still talked joyfully of the ever-varying beauty of the road. Others sighed deeply, and said they had found nothing to console them for withered roses, and rainbows vanished. Sometimes, when inquiries were made about former acquaintances, the answer was that the invisible giant had touched them, and they had changed to marble. Then a shadow seemed to darken the pleasant road, and they spoke to each other in low tones. Some of those who sighed over withered roses, told of frightful things done by this invisible giant, and of horrid places whither they had heard he conveyed his victims. To children who were chasing butterflies, and to young men and maidens who were twining rose-wreaths, they said, “You ought not to be wasting your time with such frivolous pastimes; you ought to be thinking of the awful invisible one, who is near us when we least think of it.” They spoke in lugubrious tones, as the solemn traveller had aforetime spoken to them. But our traveller, who was cheerful of heart, said: “It is not kind to throw a shadow across their sunshine. Let them enjoy themselves.” And his Mary asked whether He who made the beautiful road had wasted time when He made the roses and the butterflies? And why had He made them, if they were not to be enjoyed?