The Marriage of the Fairies

Fairies are sociable creatures, and like to be where there are many

children and some grown folks. Long ago, before human beings came on

the earth, it was proposed, in a meeting of the fairies, that some of

them should go to Moon Land and invite the Moonlanders to come and

settle on the earth. This was because the fairies wanted more company.

In fact, life among the fairies had got to be very dull. Nothing

happened, and some wanted to change their people and their scenery.

But one old fairy said “No! the earth is as yet too bare and rough. Who

wants to live here, unless they are fairies, that do not eat, or like

candy, or that require no clothes, or food, or houses, or carriages or

pets?”

“Yes,” said another. “I agree with you. We must furnish this earth of

ours with pretty things, like flowers, and fruit trees, and birds, and

horses, and useful animals, and cats and dogs, and squirrels and

rabbits. How can we go about it?”

During this debate among the wisest ones, there were two fairies that

sat apart. It was noticed that they had put their heads together,

talking every moment and sometimes both at once. They winked

occasionally at each other, and often nodded knowingly, as if they

understood things even better than those who talked most. Meanwhile,

they seemed very happy. At last, with beaming smiles, they both spoke

together to the assembled company.

We must not forget that while the fairies thus talked together, the

giants of the frost kept on, busily cutting away the mountain sides,

making the glacier a river of ice, that carried the rocks and gravel

away and far down into the valleys and on the plains. In this way, the

hard stone was ground into gravel, sand, clay, and dust, and scattered

over the face of the earth. The glacier scratched, and chiseled, and

grooved out the bed rocks, and then rolled the big stones over and

over, and all together, until they were as round as oranges or marbles.

Usually this grinding was like that of a mill, which crushes the grain

and makes meal, from which the miller blows away the bran, to get the

white flour. So, at first, the rocks, thus broken and powdered, were

mixed all together and tumbled about.

Yet many times the frost giants, the spirits of the storm, the wind,

the sun, and the glacier worked together, and all with one purpose.

Often they laid the different materials very neatly in separate beds,

some in this place and some in that. By this process, the clay, the

sand, the stones, and the gravel were separated one from the other. It

seemed as if they expected human beings to come and live on the earth.

These mighty forces, of heat and cold, were working for the fairies, so

as to have everything in order and ready when men should come, so that

they could plow and coax flowers out of the ground.

So when the fairies were all waiting, to hear what could be done, one

of the two that had whispered together spoke out in meeting. She was a

silvery looking creature, reminding one of moonlight. Her dress, which

was gauzy and shining, seemed to be made of aluminum threads woven

together. Her helmet, of this metal, was very light and polished until

it reflected the light, like a mirror.

“I have a daughter,” said she, “named Klei. She is ready to be a bride,

and, if she is married to the right one, I am sure her children will

make the earth beautiful.”

“And I,” said the other, who seemed to be dressed entirely in crystal,

and had on a helmet carved out of quartz, “have a son named Zand. He is

tough and strong, and sometimes, when the wind vexes him, he fusses

about and stings and bites. Yet neither the sea shore, nor the dunes,

nor the desert, nor the wilderness could get along without him. When

the tempest blows him about, it irritates him and he behaves roughly

and raises a terrible storm. But, if my son, Mr. Zand, is married to

your daughter, Miss Klei, I predict that wherever the two live

together, or their children dwell, there the sandpipers will trip along

the shore and sing their notes, the cows and sheep will graze, the

flowers bloom, and the human beings will build houses and barns. In any

event, if they two marry, they will make the earth beautiful.”

At this, which seemed like boasting to some of the old fairies, there

was some shaking of the heads among them. “Rough and boisterous!”

“Won’t settle down!” “Too full of grit to be pleasant!” “Too likely to

take on different forms, and to be changeable, to make a good husband!”

These were some of the remarks dropped by old fairies that were

critical or jealous, or knew too well the pranks of the young fellow

Zand.

“And she? Why she’s more changeable yet. Takes on different colors at

different times, is hard or soft, according as she is hot or cold. Why,

you can mould her to any pattern you please. Just like wax! Let water

come near her and the fickle fairy will melt away, spilling and

spreading herself over everything.”

“Yes, but she’s tough, and can hold water as still in its place, as in

a bowl,” said another. “That shows a steady character, doesn’t it?”

“Well, I don’t know. On the other hand, put fire near her and she

hardens into stone. How frivolous! She’ll never make a good wife! If

she does, she’ll so settle down, that you can’t move her!”

“Too much family pride on both sides,” snapped out a wizened old fairy.

“Better not boast too much of one’s children! A little more modesty

might be more becoming. As for my part, I don’t think either Mr. Zand

or Miss Klei worth much. Neither has any good looks.”

The wise old fairies paid no attention to this gossip and these

ill-natured remarks. They said that all these critics were jealous. The

match was approved, and preparations were made, on an immense scale, to

celebrate the wedding.

It would take too long to tell who were present at the marriage feast,

how they were dressed, the way they behaved, and how the fairies of the

fire and the ice were over-careful. The six daughters of the snow did

not like to get near the sooty and smoky elves and kabouters, that came

up, out of the mines and caves and lower earth, to see the company and

the fun. In fact, fairies can be just as snobbish, and selfish, and

impolite, as human beings. Some are very proud and selfish, and others

kind and gracious.

The story-teller can only stop to say that the bride looked very sweet.

She wore her mother’s dress of silvery braid, while, instead of orange

blossoms, which do not grow in the mountains, or a bouquet of roses, or

sweet pinks, which had not yet come on the earth, she had on her head a

crown made of the edelweiss, which is found only on the highest

mountains and usually growing near the edge of precipices and is very

rare and precious. It was born on the earth, long before fruit trees,

or forget-me-nots, or pansies, and it grew, because it had a white

woolly coat like fur, that kept it warm in the intense cold that killed

other plants; in fact the mischievous Jack Frost could never bite, or

pinch it. So it lived on.

It is far more important, in this story, to tell of the children that

were soon born of the two wonderful fairies, Zand and Klei. Wherever

they touched each other, or lived for any length of time, there was

born a new thing called soil. Whenever a seed was dropped in that soil,

up sprang a flower, a stalk of grain, a fruit tree, or grass. Gardens,

orchards, corn fields, and pastures were always found where this couple

had had a home.

By and bye great forests covered the land, and in the forests, the deer

roamed, and squirrels played, for many nut trees grew here. The birds

built their nests in the trees and the woods echoed with their sweet

songs. In fact, in the month of May, when the birds were courting and

love making, and nest building, there was a continual concert. Then,

when the young birds left the nests to fly, and carol, and chirrup, and

find their own food, the world was indeed a lovely place to live in.

So, at least, a thousand kinds of happy animals thought.

By and bye, came men and women, with babies and cradles, and boys and

girls. They built houses and had happy homes. The fields were covered

with grain, which the millers ground into flour, and then the mothers

made bread and cakes, and crullers and doughnuts, and many other

goodies. From the fruit trees, they picked pears and apples, and, from

the bushes, blackberries and raspberries, to make jam and pies. From

the cows, they obtained milk and cheese. Then, with pet dogs and cats,

and horses and singing birds, and with every house full of children,

all the people were very happy.

The men learned, from the glacier, not only how to crush grain and

crack nuts, and to get food, but also how to cut and shape, and carve

stone, so as to make beautiful houses, and castles, and temples, and

churches. Then, when they saw how fire turns clay into a hard substance

like stone, they mixed the clay with water and moulded the soft paste

into cups and dishes, and pretty forms, and these they often painted

and decorated. In time, they adorned their houses and halls with

statues and sculpture. Then, the artists and teachers of beauty were

rivals in building beautiful cities.

Now, in our language, for Zaan and Klei, we say Sand and Clay. For

millions of years, after the fairies of the Zaan and Klei had married

each other and made the fertile soil, from which such wonderful things

came out, many other fairies were calling on men to make use of them,

also, as they had already done with Sand and Clay.

They wanted human beings to know that the fairies of snow and frost, of

sunshine and thaw, of light and air, and the many inhabitants of the

air were willing to be continually busy, like those of the Zaan and

Klei.

This couple, the two married fairies, were not selfish or lazy. They,

too, kept on calling to men who had no pretty gardens, or fertile

fields, to help in bringing them together and give them a home. When

this was done, the ground was no longer loose, blown about, piled into

billows by the wind, as in the desert, or left hard and dead, on the

sea shore, or heaped up in dunes, in which no seed could sprout. But,

when they mixed the clay and sand, there appeared the soil, that was

soft, warm, rich and held the rain. So, wherever the seeds of wheat, or

corn, or flowers, were dropped into the bosom of this new child of the

clay and sand, called soil, the sun and showers made the seeds come

forth as flowers, or fruit. One witty gentleman was so sure of what

would happen, even on the prairies, that he said, “tickle the earth

with a spade, and it will laugh a flower.” So the fairies called

flowers “the smiles of the earth.”

It was out of the wedding of the fairies of the sand and clay, that

beautiful Belgium was born—the country which the men and women living

in it love so dearly, that they gladly die for it. In time of war,

before the battle began, the knights and foot soldiers used to kneel

down on the ground and kiss it. Then they prayed to be strong and

brave, and vowed to defend their soil, from all enemies. How grandly

they did it, we all know.