The Wishing-cap

chapter I.

A fair-haired, freckled boy was Johnny Grudge. He was the grandson of

old Grudge the wood-carter, who occupied a hut on a Government grant

some few miles out of Sydney. Johnny’s father and mother were both dead

and buried, therefore the boy lived with his grandfather, and assisted

the old man in his business.

As our hero journeyed to the market with his wood, he often met young

Master Woolcrop riding by on his milk-white pony, with a tall groom

following on a fine charger, standing I don’t know how many hands high;

and I am sorry to say our little hero grew very envious; for, be it

known, young Woolcrop’s father was one of the richest men in New South

Wales, while Johnny’s grandfather had not enough cash to purchase a set

of harness for the old mare.

“Why was I not born to have a white pony and a servant following me?”

grumbled the youth, lashing the bushes with his whip in a savage way.

“I’m quite as good as he is, and bigger and stronger. Who is he to ride

while I have to walk in the dust and heat? Ah, I wish—but what’s the

use of wishing, I should like to know? I’m always wishing for something

or other, and I never get what I wish for. Now if I could only come

across the elves that grandad talks about, I’d ask them for a

wishing-cap. Then I could have all I want.” And there Johnny paused and

fell into a reverie, which lasted until he reached the wood market with

his team.

Often during the long winter nights the old wood-cutter had talked to

his grandson of the fairies, the good little people, light as the

thistledown, and beautiful as innocence, dwelling in the bell flowers,

drinking the dew for nectar, and happy, ay, as happy as the moonlight

night was long. Not far from the hut there were several mossy ridges

where, it was said, the elves danced at night and made merry.

The boy had wished to see them. How high were they? About as tall as a

sugar-stick? Why, he had an idea that it would be quite easy to capture

a whole army of them, and take them home as securely as blackfish out

of the creek.

Returning home, Johnny again met the son of Sir Anthony Woolcrop with a

little lady by his side, mounted on a cream-coloured pony. And the

little wood-carter agreed within himself that it was a shame, and

resolved to seek out the fairies that very night.

So, in not the very best of tempers, and the very lowest of spirits,

our hero went out to the moss ridges to seek the wishing-cap. He lay

down on the soft green carpet, and kept very quiet until he heard the

great clock at the post-office boom twelve; then he heard a rustic and

a bustle, and voices—not so loud as the buzz of a blue-bottle, and

laughter scarcely so distinct as the chirp-chirp of a canary; but he

knew it was the elves, and his heart went thump! thump!

Presently he ventured to look round him. The moon was shining—as it

only can shine in Australia—and by its light he saw the gayest company

of miniature beings you can possibly imagine dancing merrily. Time

would fail to tell you how beautiful they all were, how gaily dressed,

how courteous to each other, and how graceful in every motion. Johnny

rubbed his hands and fancied he was dreaming; he stretched out his hand

and ran it into a lot of prickles, and that quite convinced him he was

wide awake. The pain caused him to cry out, and instantly the ball

became a rout. The fairies fled in great haste, some hiding themselves

in the cracks and fissures of the ridges, some burying themselves under

the fallen leaves, all escaping save one, and he got his feet entangled

in a large ant-hole, and could do nothing but wriggle and cry out.

Johnny Grudge rose to his feet, and hastened to the rescue; yet when he

beheld the wee creature our hero stood quite still and did not attempt

to help him.

“Pray assist me out of this nasty hole; the ants are beginning to bite

me,” quoth the fairy.

“Certainly I will,” cried Johnny; “but if I help you I want you to give

me something in return.”

“What will you have?” said the little fay. “Speak quickly, and get me

out of this horrible web.”

“I should like the wishing-cap,” replied our hero boldly.

“The wishing-cap? Silly boy! Why do you ask such a boon?”

“Because I want to be as well off as young Bertie Woolcrop, who rides

on a white pony with a groom following him,” answered Johnny.

“Tush!” responded the fairy. “You are much better as you are.”

“Am I?” said the boy in a gruff tone. “If you say that you know nothing

about it, and you may stop in that hole until the ants sting you to

death, before I’ll help you, now! Why should he have a pony, and a

servant, and a little girl to ride with him and to keep him company,

while I——”

“You are a strong, healthy little boy, without a care,” interrupted the

entrapped elfin.

“I am worn with care and with hard work,” answered the youngster. “My

grandfather is cross; the damper is tough, and not too much of it; my

clothes are worn, and my boots are gaping at the toes; the old mare is

lazy, and firewood cheap. Come, what will you do for me?”

“If I gave you the wishing-cap, what would you do?” inquired the fay.

“I’d change places with the boy who rides the white pony,” he answered

readily.

“Very well. Be it so. Lift me out of the hole.”

When Johnny Grudge raised the elfin from his awkward position, the

creature commanded him to lie down on the moss and close his eyes. Our

hero obeyed, and strange to relate, in a twinkling, the moonlight,

grassy dell, fairy, all faded away, and he was sleeping on a soft, rich

couch. He awoke with a start, and looked round him in surprise. The

grey light of the morning was stealing into the room, and he saw that

the apartment was handsomely furnished. A clock struck five.

At that moment the door opened, and a man in a striped jacket came in,

and wished him “Good-morning.” He was rather astonished when the man

lifted him out of bed, took off his night clothes, and plunged him into

a cold bath. It was in vain Johnny gasped, and spluttered, and

protested that he didn’t like it, and was not used to it. The man only

shook his head very gravely, and went on plunging him till he was

satisfied; then he rubbed him dry with a rough towel. After this he

helped him to dress, and poor little Grudge never had so much trouble

before. It occupied nearly an hour, and when it was over there was a

tap at the door, and a message to say that Mr. Cramwell was expecting

Master Bertrand in the study.

“Who is he?” inquired Johnny.

“Your tutor, sir, of course.”

“What does he want with me?”

“To prepare you for the day’s exercises,” replied the servant, with a

stare.

“Oh! I can get exercise enough without him,” cried the boy. “Just you

give me a piece of fresh damper and some tea, and then I’m off down to

the creek to look for the old mare.”

The man in the striped jacket held up his hands in dismay. He assured

our hero the thing was impossible, and without further parley led him

out of the room and down a broad, winding, carpeted stair, on which

beautiful busts of ladies and gentlemen stood staring at him in wonder

to see him there, and appearing as if they were about to call out to

the whole household and proclaim that he was only Johnny Grudge the

wood-carter.

Down at the bottom of the stairway there stood a very prim old lady in

cap and apron, and looking as cold and stiff as the statues up above.

Our hero, not altogether liking the severe look upon her face,

attempted to push by in haste; but the dame bade the man return with

“Master Bertie,” and the mandate being obeyed, she turned upon the

youth, and inquired if he had left his manners behind him.

“Say, ‘Good-morning, Aunt Dora,’” whispered the servant in his ear, and

the boy having complied, he was conducted into a chamber with more

books in it than Johnny supposed could ever have been written or

printed in the world.

chapter II.

The tutor was a stern-looking gentleman in a suit of sombre tweed. He

bade our hero, “Good-morning,” and then began to scold him for being

late; there were Latin, English, and mathematical exercises to be gone

through, and they would occupy much time. With a failing heart Johnny

Grudge took up his book and looked at the page. Strangely enough to

himself he could read it, and when Mr. Cramwell questioned him about it

he could repeat it; but it made his head ache, and he felt sick and

weary.

“If you please, may I have a little milk?” he asked; “or a little tea

and jam——”

“Certainly not,” interrupted the tutor. “It is time, however, that you

took your tonic.”

In answer to Mr. Cramwell’s summons, the man in the striped jacket

appeared with a wineglassful of—oh, such nasty stuff! and Johnny was

obliged to take it, every drop. Feeling very much the worse for his

draught, the poor boy went on with his lessons till half-past seven,

when his tutor in a terrible, frigid manner said, “Master Bertrand, it

is the hour for your constitutional promenade.”

Johnny Grudge at first thought he was going to have a dose of something

more nasty than had been given him before, but he soon learned that he

was to accompany his teacher for a stroll in the gardens, and for this

he was very glad; they were very beautiful—such beds of flowers, round,

diamond, heart, and all sort of shapes, screened from the sun by grand,

tall trees, whose leafy luxuriance formed natural groves where the

birds perched and sang, to the soft music of a large fountain which

splashed and flashed in millions of tiny jets.

Johnny’s first impulse was to dash off at a run when he found himself

in the sunshine, but he was sharply rebuked by Mr. Cramwell for his

“unpardonable vulgarity,” and forced to walk as solemnly as a mute at a

funeral.

When the breakfast bell began to ring our little hero took courage at

the thoughts of the wonderfully nice things there would be to eat.

Visions of cold wild-duck, ham, pie, eggs, salmon, and jam, flitted

before him; but, alas! he was wofully mistaken. All these things and

more were on the table; but not for him. He had a bowl of bread and

milk and nothing else, on account of his weak digestion. After

breakfast there were more hard, dry lessons, accompanied by much severe

rebuke, which made the time very dreary indeed. There was a French

master, and a dancing master, and a fencing master, who hurt poor

Johnny very much, because he couldn’t keep his right elbow in a line

with his wrist during the exercise. Ere dinner-time came our hero’s

head was ready to crack: it seemed to him to be made up of plates of

red-hot iron welded together with boiling lead. Dinner! Only one

dish—roast mutton, a piece of stale bread and a glass of water! Oh, how

the young wood-cutter yearned for a slice of damper, mounted with a

hunk of corned beef and an onion!

After dinner came the music master, and several other masters, and

after that the white pony. But by this time Johnny was so sick and

tired he begged hard that he might be allowed to go to bed. Mr.

Cramwell would not hear of it. So the boy mounted the white pony he had

coveted, saw a little girl, as weary as himself, on a cream-coloured

pony, was escorted by the tall groom in livery astride a high steed,

and felt most miserable.

As the lad rode on the highway where he was wont to journey with the

old mare and dray, he saw his own very self, whistling and cracking his

whip, and looking as happy as ever boy looked who had the sense to be

contented with health and strength. What would he not have given to

jump oft the pony’s back and be himself again! Oh, but he couldn’t do

that! He had longed for the “wishing-cap,” and now he had it he must

wear it!

As he rode onward he began to grumble and mutter as he had done before:

“Why should I be shut up in a big house, and made to do this, that, and

the other? Oh, I wish——”

He was going to wish that he was at home again with his grandfather;

but he held his peace, and rode on with the little lady.

Returning to the mansion he was ushered into a state-room, where a lot

of gentlemen in white waistcoats were eating fruit and drinking wine.

He had to stop there for about half an hour without speaking a word,

and was regaled with one small bunch of grapes. At the end of that time

he was taken away by the tutor, in whose presence he partook of a cup

of milk and water with a piece of dry toast. Then he was sent to bed,

as miserable as a bandicoot. In his sleep the fairy came to him once

more.

“Mortal child,” he cried in his ears, “are you satisfied with the

change in your life?”

“No, no, good fairy,” replied the sleeper faintly. “Take back the

wishing-cap—let me be my own self again. Do, do!”

“Reflect, Johnny Grudge. You will have to work again, and wear poor

clothing.”

“I don’t mind that now,” replied Johnny.

“And drive the old mare to market in the heat and dust,” continued the

elfin.

“Send me back to grandfather and the old mare,” he cried pleadingly,

“and you shall see I will never grumble again.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please try me, good fay.”

“But what about the white pony?”

“Bother the pony! I don’t want it.”

“And the tall groom?”

“He is a cruel fellow, and I never want to see him again, nor Mr.

Cramwell either. Let me be myself again, dear fay! dear, kind fairy!

Pray take me home again to good old grandad,” and the poor dreamer

began to sob in his sleep.

“Enough,” responded the wee spirit in a kind tone. “The wishing-cap I

will take again, and you shall return to your home and to your daily

toil. Yet remember, boy, you shall resume your place here the moment

you begin to grow dissatisfied. Let this lesson cure you of envy.

People who ride white ponies, the same as those who ride in carriages,

are no more exempt from care, toil, denial, and suffering than

yourself. Learn contentment. It is a rare jewel, and better than fine

clothing and white ponies. Ta-ta, Johnny.”

Poor little envious boy! The bitter disappointment he felt at finding

out the truth of the old adage, “All that glitters is not gold,” was

very keen in his heart. Yet the lesson had done him good, by showing

him that we should be very miserable if we only had everything we

wished for.

When the boy woke he found himself in his own poor crib within the hut;

but Johnny felt very glad he was there. He rather surprised his

grandfather by the willing manner in which he began to prepare for

breakfast. And then he started off to look for the old mare. How

light-hearted and free he felt, as he bounded away, a hop, skip, and a

jump over the dewy grass, where the sun’s beams glinted as on a sea of

gems!

The old horse felt amazed at the way Johnny caressed her and rubbed his

cheek athwart her Roman nose. And indeed the boy felt as much amazed as

any of them, and vowed to himself never to be discontented again; and

Johnny Grudge kept his word.