Part 5

"Blow, Horner, blow!" cried the King, "and hear, all men! If any man, woman, or child, from this time henceforward forever, shall dare to set foot in the garden now occupied by the fairies, he shall be put to death, he and all his family, and his relations, as far as they can be traced. Take notice of that, every one of you!"

Ting-a-ling then bowed his thanks, and all the people made up their minds to take very particular notice of what the King had said.

Then the magicians were ordered to come forward and name their reward; but they bowed their heads, and simply besought the King that he would grant them seven rye straws, the peeling from a red apple, and the heel from one of his old slippers. What in the name of common sense they wanted with these, no one but themselves knew; but magicians are such strange creatures! When these valuable gifts had been bestowed upon them, the five good magicians departed, leaving the dwarf for the King to do what he pleased with. This little wretch was shut up in an iron cage, and every day was obliged to eat three codfish, a bushel of Irish potatoes, and eleven pounds of bran crackers, and to drink a gallon of cambric tea; all of which things he despised from the bottom of his miserable little heart.

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"Now," cried the King, "all is settled, and let everybody go to bed. There is room enough in the palace for all to sleep to-night. Form in line, and to bed,--MARCH!" So they all formed in line, and began to march to bed, to the music of the band; and the fairies, their little horns blowing, and with Ting-a-ling at the post of honor by the Queen, took up their line of march, out of the window to the garden, which was to be, henceforward forever, their own. Just as they were all filing out, in flew little Parsley on the back of his butterfly, which had been hatched out at last.

"Hello!" cried he. "Is it all over?"

"Pretty nearly," said Ting-a-ling. "It's just letting out. How came you to be so late?"

"Easy enough," said poor little Parsley. "Of all the mean things that ever was the pokiest long time in unwrapping its wings, this butterfly's the meanest."

THE MAGICAL MUSIC.

There was once an excessively mighty King, Barradin the Great, who died, leaving no sons or daughters, or any relation on the face of the earth, to inherit his crown. So his throne, at the time of which I write, was vacant. This mighty King had been of a very peculiar disposition. Unlike other potentates, he took no delight in going to war, or in cutting off people's heads, or in getting married, or building palaces. But he was a great musician. All that he cared for, seemed to be music; and the whole of his leisure time, with a great many of his business hours, was occupied in either composing or performing music of some kind. Everybody around him was obliged to be musical; and if one was not so, it would be of no use for him to apply for any situation. His Prime Minister played on the violin, his Secretary performed on the horn, while his Treasurer was superb upon the great drum. Every time the Royal Council met, the minutes of the last meeting, all set to music, were sung by the Secretary; and when the King made a speech, he always sung it in a magnificent bass voice, accompanied by a full orchestra. If any one wished to present a petition, he was always sure of having it granted, if he could but sing it excellently well, and even folks who were good at whistling were favorably received at court. The example of the King was followed by the people. They nearly always talked to some tune, and every one but the very poorest owned an instrument.

So this mighty monarch never went to war, or cut off people's heads, or married more than once; and as for building palaces, it was of no use, for he had as many as he wanted, already. The last ten years of his life were occupied, almost entirely, in the composition of a wonderful piece of music, in which he sought, by means of perseverance and magic, to combine all the beauties and difficulties of the science. He had scarcely finished it, when he died; and it was generally supposed that if he had not worked so hard at it, he would have lived much longer.

The composition was not long, for you could have sung it in ten minutes, that is, if you could have sung it at all; which is by no means likely, for had that been the case (and you had lived in those days) you might have ruled over the country. For, just before the mighty King died, he made a decree to this effect,--that his successor on the throne should be the man, woman, or child who could, at sight, sing that piece of music.

So the music was put up against a marble tablet in the great hall of the royal palace, and there were six judges appointed,--the most distinguished professors of music in the country,--and these sat on great velvet chairs, three on each side of the music, and anybody might come to try who chose.

You may well believe that the people came in crowds, for nearly every one wished to be king or queen, as the case might be. This music had a very singular effect upon most of those who did not succeed in singing it. They nearly all went crazy. The first few notes were easy, and they were so beautiful, that it was enough to make any one crazy to think that they could not sing the rest of it,--not to mention missing the crown. The Prime Minister had, on this account, a great asylum built, to which the disappointed candidates were immediately conveyed, and the house was very soon filled. Indeed, it was often necessary to build extensions to the main building, and it was not long before this was the largest edifice in the country. It is true, that although every one failed to sing the music, they did not all go crazy; but they were taken to the asylum the same as the rest, and if they were not crazy when they got there, they soon became so, and thus it amounted to pretty much the same thing in the end. Well, the judges sat in their chairs until they died at a good old age, and they were succeeded by others just as learned. Latterly there were not so many applications as there used to be, but still, every few days, some one went out to the asylum. Years passed, and the offices of the judges became sinecures; but they had to sit there all the same, just as if they expected to be busy; and they might have been seen, whenever anybody chose to step in during the day, sitting there with their chins on their breasts, fast asleep. The Prime Minister, and after him his son, ruled the country very well, and people began to feel as if they didn't care if they never had a king or a queen to govern them. As a rule, they all felt very comfortable without anything of the kind.

Now it so happened that about this time a certain young Prince, accompanied by an old gentleman (to take care of him), was travelling in this great kingdom. His father's dominion was very many miles away; but the Prince had been journeying in this direction for quite a long time, taking things easily, and seeing everything that was to be seen. His mother had died when he was quite young, and his father had lately married the daughter of a gnome, probably because their estates joined,--his stretching for many miles over the surface of the earth, while hers lay immediately beneath them. The Prince did not like his gnome step-mother (who was, you know, one of those large underground fairies, who are more like human beings than any others), and when a little gnome-baby was born, he could stand it no longer, and so obtained permission of his father to travel for the good of his body and mind. So he had been going from country to country until he reached the capital city of the great kingdom.

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There the Prince saw enough to fill him with wonder for the rest of his life. His old friend, Trumkard, took him day by day into the bazaars, and the palaces, and the mosques, and hundreds of places just as nice. One beautiful evening the Prince set out for a walk by himself through the city. The gentle twilight still tinged the sky with gold, and the soft breeze from the river, that passed through fruit-gardens and vineyards on its way to the city, smelt of peaches, and grapes, and plums, and oranges, and pomegranates, and pineapples, and was truly very delicious. Everything was lovely, and the Prince felt good and happy. The very beggars, when he had passed them, blessed the happy stars that had caused them to be born during his life-time, so noble and generous was the Prince this evening. Strolling along, he came to the palace of the mighty King. The Prince knew the palace; for Trumkard had taken him into it, and had shown him the six judges sitting in their velvet chairs, and the magical music hanging up against the marble tablet between them. He knew all about the music, and the conditions attached to it, but, not being much of a musician, he had never felt inclined to try it. So he walked through the royal courts and vestibules, and into the great hall where stood the six chairs,--empty, and covered with silken covers to keep the dust off during the night. And the music was concealed by a great plate of gold which was locked over it every night. He met but few persons; for every one who was not detained by some

## particular duty, had gone out-of-doors that lovely night. Here and

there, a porter, or a black eunuch, or a soldier or two, he met; but as every one who saw him, knew him instantly for a prince of good blood, he could, of course, wander where he pleased. He passed on among the golden columns and sculptured doorways, and under vaulted and arabesque ceilings, until he came to a door of mother-of-pearl, which had a golden lock, an alabaster knob, and a diamond key-hole. It turned easily on silver hinges, and the Prince passed by it into a beautiful garden. He had never been in such a place of loveliness. The trees were hung with many soft-colored lamps, and the fruit glittered and shone in gorgeous colors on the branches. Every night-bird sang, and every night-flower was giving forth its fragrance. In the middle of the garden was a fountain, the waters of which rose in a single jet from the centre, and then, as they fell back into the basin, each of their thousand drops struck upon a silver harp-string, causing the most delightful sounds to fill the air, and mingle with the songs of the birds and the perfume of the flowers. Around the great basin were silken cushions on which the Prince reclined, and the goldfish that were swimming in the basin came up to him to be fed. There also came the ruby fish, that shines as red as blood, and the zimphare, or transparent fish, which is as colorless as the water, and can only be discovered by a green knot on its head and another on its tail.

There were also many other fish, as the balance-fish, which comes up to the top of the water equally balanced, having at each end of its body expansions like the pans of scales. These are its mouths, and if one puts a crumb into one of them without having put one into the other, it turns right over, and sinks to the bottom. So, when this fish is properly fed, it always gets two crumbs at a time. Then there was the gelatine fish, that has no mouth at all, but is very soft and pulpy, and all that is necessary is to drop some crumbs upon his back, and they immediately soak in. Also the great flob was there, who came clattering and clanking up from the bottom of the basin, with his hard shells and heavy claws, as if he was the greatest fish alive. But for all that he opened his mouth so wide, and shut it upon a little crumb with a snap loud enough for a loaf of bread, his throat was so small that that little crumb nearly choked him. All these fishes the Prince fed from golden baskets filled with crumbs, and placed around the basin for the convenience of those who wished to amuse themselves by feeding the fish. When he was tired of this sport, he rose and entered the palace again by another door. He had not walked far along an alabaster corridor, before he saw a door open, and an old woman come out. She had in her hand a silver waiter, on which was the remains of a delicious little supper, the scent of which seemed so charming to the Prince that it made him feel as hungry as a bear in the springtime. The old woman, who was busy munching some of the pieces of cake, and sucking the bones of the little birds that were left, did not notice him; and, hoping to find some more good things where these came from, he slipped in at the door, before the old woman shut it, and entered a large and beautiful room, lighted by a single lamp that hung from the ceiling. At the upper end of this apartment, he was surprised to see a beautiful young Princess, who was sitting in an arm-chair, fast asleep, with a guitar on the floor at her feet. Around the room were placed musical instruments of all kinds; but there was no one there to play on them but the Princess, and she was fast asleep.

There was a breeze in the room, that seemed to come and go like the waves of the sea; and the Prince could not imagine what occasioned it, for all the doors and windows were closed. However, looking upwards, he saw, behind the Princess's chair, the reason of the wind and the lady's slumber. Standing behind her, with his feet on the floor and his head high up in the obscurity of the ceiling, was a great Nimshee, or evil spirit of the ocean, who was fanning her with his wings, and had put her to sleep with their slow and dreamy motion. With his great eyes glowing like meteors in the dimness of the upper part of the room, the Nimshee glared at the Prince, and waved his wings faster and stronger. But our young friend was not afraid of him--not a bit. He walked softly round the room once or twice, and then, returning to the Princess, spoke to her. She did not awake, and the Prince called her louder and louder, and at last, putting his hand on her shoulder, he shook her; but still she slept. He felt that he must awaken her, and seizing the guitar that lay at her feet, he held it close to her ear, and struck the strings loudly. The Princess opened her eyes with a start; and as she awoke, the Nimshee, beating his breast with his wings, gave a great roar like the waves beating in a storm against a rocky coast, and flew away. The Princess blushed a little when she first saw the Prince, but he was so polite that she soon recovered herself, and they conversed quite pleasantly.

She explained the meaning of the musical instruments in the room, by stating that she had a great passion for music, and the good people of the palace brought her a new instrument nearly every day; but she never sat down to play any of them but she went almost immediately to sleep. She could not imagine the reason for this; but the Prince knew very well that the Nimshee had put her to sleep to-day at any rate, and he had no doubt but that he was always at the bottom of it. He said nothing to her, however, of what he had seen, as he perceived that she did not know it, and he did not wish to frighten her.

She said she had taken her guitar that evening, as soon as she had finished her supper, but had fallen asleep as usual. She asked the Prince, "Do you play?" and he said, "Only a little;" and then they walked around the room, and looked at all the instruments, to see if there were any that the Prince could play on better than the rest. He wished her to perform, but she urged him, and he soon saw a hand-organ, and said he was pretty sure that he could play on that. So he tried, and, sure enough, he could play very well, and the Princess sat down on the floor by him, and he played for almost an hour and three quarters, and they were both very much pleased. Then the Prince's arm got tired, and he stopped and asked the Princess to tell him her history. She said she was a little ashamed to tell him her story, because he might think that she was not of as good descent as himself; but the Prince insisting, she told him that her mother was a water-woman.

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"A mermaid, I suppose?" said the Prince.

"O no!" she cried, "none of those low things with fish-tails, but a real princess of the ocean. She lived in a splendid palace at the bottom of the sea, and fell in love with a prince of the earth, who left his father's kingdom, and went down there and married her.

"I remember my father very well," continued the beautiful Princess. "He was a fine, handsome man, but our climate never seemed to agree with him. He could not smoke under the water, and he often used to have aches which helped to make him unhappy. Before he died, he said that he would give all the treasures of the ocean for a pipe and a piece of dry flannel. When he left her, mother pined away, and soon died too, when I was only about twelve years old. I was very lonely, but, as I was the daughter of a water-princess and a land-prince, I could go where I pleased, either on shore or in the water."

"Amphibious like?" said the Prince.

"I don't know anything about that," she replied; "but I used to like to walk about on the sea-shore, for everything was so different from what I had been accustomed to,--birds, you know, and all that sort of thing."

"O yes," said the Prince, "it must have been very different to you indeed; but I was going to say to you, a little while ago, that you need not think me above you, for I am half-brother to a gnome."

"O, I am glad to hear that," she said; "I was afraid you would make fun of me."

"As if I could!" said the Prince, reproachfully.

So she went on with her story.

"One day, about a year ago, when I was quite grown up, I met some ladies who lived here at the palace, and they wanted me to come home with them, and I did; and I have lived here ever since, and like it very much. They are all very kind, and if I didn't sleep so much, I should be very happy."

The Prince now proposed to the Princess, and she accepted him, and then she sat down to a harp to give him a little music. The Prince's presence, in some way (perhaps because he was half-brother to a gnome), prevented the appearance of the Nimshee; and for the first time since she had been in the palace, she played without hindrance, and her music was perfectly charming; and with tears of joy in his eyes, the Prince sat wishing she would play forever. After a while, however, she got tired and stopped; and when they turned around, they saw the room was filled by the people of the palace, who had come to hear this delicious music. They were nearly all wiping their eyes with their handkerchiefs,--they were so much affected--and they could not find words good enough with which to praise the playing of the Princess. Such music they had never heard before.

Directly she declared that she was going to bed; but she desired the Grand Chamberlain to take that young Prince and give him a handsome room until morning, when she would like to see him again, and make arrangements for their wedding.

So she went away with her ladies, and the Chamberlain took the Prince out into the alabaster hall again.

"Prince indeed!" said the Chamberlain to himself; "O yes! I'll take care of him, certainly. A good room,--O yes, indeed!" and, taking the Prince by the arm, he hurried him along, until he came to the aviary, where all sorts of wonderful and costly birds were kept, and he pushed him in there, and locked him up. The Prince was so taken by surprise at this hasty treatment, that he had no time to get angry, or he would certainly have drawn his sword, and made short work of the Grand Chamberlain. As it was, he passed the night in the aviary as well as he could; but as he had no place to lie but the floor, and as the ostriches walked about a good deal, he was very much afraid they might tread upon him, and this made him feel uneasy all night. The great owls, too, made it very unpleasant for him, by forming a circle around him, and steadfastly gazing at him with their great eyes, which looked like enormous cat-eyes, stuck into the darkness. As to the night-hawks and the other birds which fly in the dark, they swooped around and over him the whole livelong night; and when he began to get a little sleep, about daybreak, every bird in the place began to sing, or twitter, or scream, or crow, or gobble, or chatter, and the Prince might as well have tried to fly as sleep. About eight o'clock, a man came to feed the birds, and seeing the Prince in the aviary, he put him out instantly. The Prince was very angry, and tried to find out what this all meant; but the man told him he had better not let him catch him in there again, and slammed the door in his face. As the Prince wandered about the palace, he met a number of people, all of whom he asked to conduct him to the Princess. Some laughed at him, and others told him that he had better be careful how he talked about the beautiful Princess, but no one conducted him to her.

At last a man who seemed to have some authority, came up to the Prince, and, having heard his story, requested him to follow him. He led the way to a small door, and, motioning to the Prince to pass through it, shut and fastened it after him. The Prince found himself out in the street.