Sometimes he told his father that he had been into Fairy-land; but his father, who was a brick-maker and lived in the wood, only laughed, and cried aloud; “Next time you go, be sure to fetch back some fairy money.”
One day the small boy, whose real name was Little Boy, told his father that he had gone a mile into Fairy-land, and that there the people were born old and grew younger all the time, and that on this account the hands of their clocks went backward. When his father heard this, he said that boy was only fit to sing songs and be in the sun, and would never make bricks worth a penny. Then he added, sharply, that his son must get to work at once and stop going over the fence to Fairy-land. So, after that, Little Boy was set to dig clay and make bricks for a palace which the King was building. He made a great many bricks of all colors, and did seem to work so very hard that his father began to think he might in time come to make the best of bricks. But if you are making bricks you must not even be thinking of fairies, because something is sure to get into the bricks and spoil them for building anything except a Spanish castle or a palace of Aladdin.
I am sorry to say that while Little Boy made bricks and patted them well and helped to bake them hard he was forever thinking of a Fairy who had kissed him one day in the wood. This was a very strange Fairy, large, with white limbs, and eyes which were full of joy for a child, but to such as being old looked upon them, were, as the poet says, “lakes of sadness.” Perhaps, being little, you who read can understand this. I cannot; but whoever has once seen this Fairy loves the sun and the woods and all living creatures, and knows things without being taught, and what men will say before they say it. Yet, while he knows all these strange things, and what birds talk about, and what songs the winds sing to the trees, he can never make good bricks.
And this was why Little Boy’s bricks were badly made; on account of which the King’s palace, having many poor bricks in it, fell down one fine day and cracked the crowns of twenty-three courtiers and had like to have killed the King himself. This made the King very angry, so he put on his crown and said wicked words, and told everybody he would give one hundred pieces of gold to whoever would find the person who had made the bad bricks. When Little Boy’s father heard this, he knew it must have been his son who was to blame. So he told his son that he had been very careless, and that surely the King would kill him, and that the best thing he could do would be to run away and hide in Fairy-land.
Little Boy was very badly scared, and was well pleased when his mother had put some cakes and apples in a bag and slung it over his shoulder and told him to run quickly away; and this he was glad to do, because he saw the King’s soldiers coming over the hill to take him. When they came to his father’s house his father told them that it was his son who had made the bad bricks. After hearing this, they let the man go, and went after Little Boy. As their legs were long and his were short, they soon got very near to him, and he had just time to scramble over the fence into Fairy-land. Then the soldiers began to get over the fence, too; but at this moment the giant Fee-Faw-Fum came out of the wood, and said, in a voice that was as loud as the roar of the winds of a winter night: “What do you want here?” This gave them such a fright that they all sat there in a row on top of the fence like sparrows, and could not move for a week. You may be sure Little Boy did not stop to look at them, but ran away, far away into Fairy-land. Of course, he soon got lost, because in the geographies there is not a word about Fairy-land, and nobody knows even what bounds it on the north.
It is sad to be lost, but not in Fairy-land. The sooner you lose yourself, the happier you are. And then such queer things chance to you—things no one could dream would happen. Mostly it is the children for whom they occur, and the grown-up person who is quite happy in this joyous land is not often to be met with. Perhaps you think I will tell you all about the fairy country. Not I, indeed. I have been there in my time; but my travels there I cannot write, or else I might never be allowed to return again.
By-and-by Little Boy grew tired and went into a deep wood and there sat down and ate a cake, and saw very soon that the squirrels were throwing him nuts from the trees. Of course, as he was in Fairy-land, this was just what one might have expected. He tried to crack the nuts with his teeth, but could not, and this troubled the squirrels so much that presently nine of them came down and sat around him and began to crack nuts for him and to laugh.
When Little Boy had finished his meal, he lay down and tried to go to sleep, for it was pleasant and warm, and the moss was soft to lie upon, and strange birds came and went and sang love-songs. But just as he was almost asleep he was shaken quite roughly, and when he looked up saw a beautiful Prince.
“Ho! ho!” said the Prince, “I heard you getting ready to snore. A moment more and I should have been too late.”
“How is that?” said Little Boy, “and who are you?”