Swiss Fairy Tales

by William Elliot Griffis

When one looked again, there was, where each fairy had kneeled down, a flower. Never was the like seen before, in all the wonderful floral [[84]]world, either as to the kind, or blossom, or the shape of the stalk, leaves or petals of the plants. Some hardly looked like flowers at all, while others were recognized at once, as cousins or sisters of old friends; but so dressed up, as if for an arctic journey, as scarcely to be recognized. One had a family of little folks on its back—“As hairy and furry as an Esquimaux baby,” whispered one fairy to the other.

Here was one creature, dazzlingly splendid in colors, while, alongside of her, was a little lady robed entirely in white, as if she were to be the bride of Jack Frost, and marry him in a country where the tint of ermine and ptarmigan bird was the only one in fashion.

The lowliness, of some of these new born flowers, was perhaps the most astonishing thing about them. Even when in bloom they were not over an inch in height, while their neighbors, down in the valley, were all nearly as tall as yard sticks. One group became only plain meadow grass, while their relatives seemed dressed for Fifth Avenue, or the main street of Zurich or Berne.

Although, when the fairies were turned into trees, and were, at first, hardly higher than a needle, and not one of them had a body as thick as a thimble, they at once began whispering, for [[85]]it was hard to give up the old habit of talking every minute.

Of one pretty creature, shaped like a blue bell, with scalloped edges, it was noticed that she shut up her mouth, and did not say a word. At this, one wise old fairy looked up at the sky, and said, “It is certainly going to rain.” Thereupon, since flowers were so cheap, this one, they called “the poor man’s weather glass.” Another, that had a curiously shaped blossom, they named Lady’s Slipper. To still another, very reddish, tufty, and strong, they gave the title of Prince’s Feather; while an unusually pert and active one, that had a very expressive face, they christened Johnny-jump-up. This fairy had whimpered a little, at the idea of being named after a boy; but, when told she would have clothes of many colors, she was instantly happy, and welcomed her change into a flower with a face that would never need rouge, or lily white powder.

While these, thus far mentioned, were mostly valley or pasture flowers, and not expected to live very far up the mountain slopes, several others volunteered to lead what some called “the forlorn hope,” but they were too full of “pep” for that and took the name of the advance guard. These were especially equipped for fighting the cold. These were the edelweiss, the Alpine rose, and the octopetalla. They were made so frost-proof, [[86]]by fur and thick clothes, that they could laugh in the very faces of the frost giants, and dare them to do their worst in trying their best to freeze them out.

Of the one, that seemed done up entirely in white flannel, and that kept its blooms in a bunch, like a rosette, everybody knows, for it was the edelweiss—proud of her name, the noble white.

Millions of fairies gathered together on the hill slopes, to see the procession start, and did not mind waiting a thousand years or so. They hung on bushes, sat on top of rocks and boulders and on the tree-branches, or stood or hovered, wherever they could get either a peep, or a good view of the fairy flower army, that was to march up to the heights and wrestle with the giants.

Some wondered how the battle would go, and if the war would ever end. Could they possibly march up the mountain sides, and hold their own, amid the blasts of winter and amid the eternal snow and ice, and win the land now covered up? Not a sign of field, or pasture, or road, or any space clear of snow, was then visible. There was nothing but ice, many miles thick and looming so far up in the air, as to seem, at night, to touch the stars. The jagged rocks, splintered by the lightning, and the mountain sides, clothed [[87]]with glaciers, like armor, and which were billions of tons in weight, seemed very forbidding.

“Just give us a few millions of years, and we’ll surely win,” cried the fairy queen, who was proud of her beautiful army, and who, with them all, knew or cared nothing for what we call time.