The Ball in the Dell

Tottie Maybush, of Melgrove on the hills, was never known to tell an

untruth. Yet little kind-hearted Tottie could not be certain whether

she had fallen asleep and dreamed all about the fairies’ ball, or the

spirits of the dell had carried her off bodily to their annual

festival. On one of our beautiful Australian midsummer nights, the

dark-blue sky, and the earth beneath it, illumined by a full, radiant

moon, Tottie was seated under a large fig-tree in the garden, playing

with Sultan, the retriever puppy. The child’s parents had gone to visit

a neighbour; therefore there was no one at home save Jane, the servant,

who had promised Tottie that she might remain up till they returned.

No one can say—not even Tottie herself—how it was she came to leave her

seat and the puppy, and stroll all alone down the long walk beyond the

orchard, until she emerged upon a sloping lawn that dipped with an easy

fall to the edge of the river. The round, full moon overhead cast thin

streaks and broad bars of soft light athwart the branches of the tall

trees, which formed triangles, circles, and crosses, about the sombre

trunks, and lay like scraps of burnished steel about her path. Out on

the mossy bank the moon’s focus seemed to rest on one great patch of

light, whereon stood a group of small, slender, puny creatures, drawn

up in two lines, like a regiment of soldiers on parade. Tiny and

insignificant as they appeared, Tottie could not help observing their

costumes, which were both elegant and superb. Every rich and varied

flower in the botanical world of the Southern Hemisphere had lent its

bloom and beauty to adorn their persons, while beyond their ranks, on

the placid bosom of the river, sat six large, white swans, attached to

the car of state, which glowed and sparkled under the beams of the moon

like a mass of sapphires.

The moment Tottie appeared, the King of the fairies stepped forth and

addressed her,—

“Mortal, you are invited to our Jubilee in the dell. Xylophagus, my

Queen, has sent her barge of state, together with this gallant escort,

to convey you thither. Fear not to come with us; we are your friends

and your slaves for the hour. Gentlemen, let your royal barge

approach.”

The elfin monarch waved his hand, when instantly there arose upon the

air a choral melody from the fairy boat, far surpassing the song of

birds. No warbling bulbul, no melting note of dulcimer floating o’er

the waters at still midnight, ever ravished the senses, or soothed with

tones so liquid soft, as the strains which fell upon the ears of Tottie

Maybush as she was borne aboard by the elves. They placed her on a

couch of softest down, fringed by a border of wild rose leaves, and two

lovely fairy ladies fanned her with perfumed fans, which not only

warded off the mosquitoes, but lulled Tottie into a passive state,

wherein she was utterly powerless to move or act, yet which left her

sense of hearing and observation free and unfettered. What engines made

of mortal hands could propel a boat so swiftly and noiselessly as those

proud, vigorous swans, who glided onward down the river with the elfin

barque and its freight as if the whole thing had been no heavier than a

gossamer? What mortal ears could conceive from out the world of sound

such enchanting harmony? It was the silvery lullaby of Fairyland, that

our Australian sprites might chant to some fretful changeling they had

adopted and sought to hush to sleep.

And now the view opens upon a magnificent glade, with here and there a

huge eucalyptus standing out in bold relief like a grim giant on guard.

Here the elfin King and his grotesque retinue land, and escort their

mortal guest across the velvet sward and through a grove of trees,

which terminates in a deep dell—the scene of the fairy ball.

Upon a verdant, natural carpet, softer than velvet pile, stood two

lines of young trees, from the roots of which the vines of the purple

sarsaparilla had shot upward along the trunks and amongst the branches,

and there bending with a graceful slope had met and entwined, and so

had formed a long trellis-work roof, where the moon beamed through in

twice ten thousand rays into the gallery beneath.

The elfin King conducted Tottie into this primeval hall, where Queen

Xylophagus was seated with her ladies on a bank of wild violets. The

child was quite bewildered at the wildly odd scene that met her gaze.

The gallery was hung round with myriads of glow-worms and fire-flies,

which illumined the place with a soft, subdued light, and shed a

sparkling sheen on the parti-coloured robes of the gay creatures which

moved to and fro about her. Here, as in the higher world of mortals,

the ladies fanned and flirted, while the gentlemen flattered and were

smilingly attentive; but there was no lurking devil behind it all with

the elves. They, at least, were genuine.

“Approach, O mortal, and kiss my hand,” cried the fairy Queen, rising

and saluting Tottie. “In this dell thou shalt be fed on honeyed words.

We will deck thee with jewels brought from hidden caves and gathered in

bowers of green, where loop the clustered vines. Pure pearls of may-dew

shall adorn thy fair young brow like summer’s fruited gems, ripe and

mellow.”

Tottie tried to thank her Majesty.

“These are my ladies,” continued the Queen, pointing to several lovely

fays beside her. “Moppet, stand forth. This is our lady of the robes,

who supplies a new dress for our person every morning.”

A fair, wee creature rose from her seat and kissed Tottie.

“Moth and Poppy, two of my daughters, who are about to be

married—Poppy, the youngest, to Prince Cornflower, and her sister, to

the celebrated Grimalkin of the Hills,” said her Majesty, introducing

the members of the household. “Those three ladies in purple, who are

teasing that old gentleman with the crutch, are Gloze, Geneva, and

Moss, the King’s first cousins—old maiden ladies who have never been

married, and who delight in annoying the bachelors.”

Perhaps it was fortunate for poor Tottie Maybush that a great noise at

the other end of the gallery interrupted the Queen, otherwise she would

probably have been smothered by the warm-hearted beings presented to

her. The commotion was caused by the arrival of several ambassadors

from the vast realm of Nature. Here advanced the representative of the

Forest with stately dignity; then followed the Wind, whose tread shook

the roof of the ball-room; and after him came a long procession of

birds. The eagle headed one column, the wild turkey another, after

which came parrots and plovers, quails, snipe, and magpies, while the

jolliest of them all—the great kingfisher—brought up the rear. Round

and round the hall they trooped until the whole host found suitable

perches among the thick foliage of the trees, where they gazed down in

wonder upon the throng beneath.

Amid a deep silence which had fallen upon the place the elfin King rose

to his feet, and in a sharp, clear, piping tone, said, “We are all

assembled; let the dance begin.”

Suddenly the throng of birds struck up a wild medley of song, whereupon

the fairies, bounding to their feet, began a fantastic dance around the

grotto. Such a quick, changing whirl of steps and leaps and varied

motions it would be difficult to conceive. Circles here, confusion

there, up and down in mazes, until, the feathered band piping higher

and wilder, the eye was unable to follow the labyrinth of gay creatures

in their mad career. “The witches at Benevento” were as nothing

compared to the furious freaks and vagaries of the elves; but in the

midst of it all there was heard the booming of a bell, and—like

enchantment—darkness and quiet fell upon the sylvan festivity in the

twinkling of an eye.

“Tottie! Miss Tottie, do get up and come to bed!” cried Jane. “Your pa

and ma have returned home!”