Chapter II: Shadows

The old mortal, whom the fays had christened Ready Money, slept soundly in that island garden into which he had been guided by Rubywings. And as he slumbered, behold the Fairy Queen approached with a golden wand in her hand. She stood over him and gently waved the wand to and fro, when lo! the flowers around and about instantly assumed the shape of frolicsome sprites who formed themselves into a vast ring about him. Again Rubywings lifted her enchanted staff, and the trees receded backwards in the distance as so many drifting clouds athwart the horizon. And waving her wand for the third time, a sudden darkness shrouded the island save where the man reposed.

Round that clear, circular space, bordered by the crowded ranks of the elves, there shone a brilliant, steady, silvery light, brighter than the sun and softer than a moonbeam.

Rubywings stooped and whispered in the sleeper’s ear. And as she did so, the magic ring widened and widened out, until at length it appeared to encompass the whole landscape. The beautiful light increased simultaneously with the wonderful expansion of the garden, thereby adding a tenfold beauty to every object upon which it rested.

“Behold, mortal, this is the valley of the shadows. First lift thine eyes,” cried the fairy.

Ready Money obeyed, and saw much clearer than with his waking sight. Into the shimmering ring there glided the Monarch of the Shadows. He was not at all black or gloomy. Not in the least—his manners were soft and engaging, and his robe was decorated with all kinds of delicate tints, brown and silver-grey, and violet shaded with faint blue and azure. All the fays bowed down reverently before him, because they knew he was the greatest Shadow in the land. Painters loved him and made charming pictures of him, and poets sang of him and wrote songs in his praise, and yet neither painter nor poet could tell how great, how magnificent and glorious he was.

Troop by troop, rank and column, the Shadows came out of the ravines, valleys and dells, and from the clefts in the hill sides, and from amongst the rocks, and approached the King in due order and gave an account of their several missions.

Some told how they had spent their time in sick rooms, where people lay tossing in pain, and how they had rested the eyes of many a weary sufferer, and shielded them from the glaring light, and how sometimes they had gathered thickly round them and lulled them into health-giving sleep. Others spoke of travellers far from home, who, longing to see their wives and children or friends once more, had been comforted by the Shadows, who took upon themselves the dear home figures and the scenes of home.

The mortal listened eagerly to every word uttered by these ministers of Nature. Hitherto he had believed that Beam and Shadow alike had no life, any more than the particles of dust beneath his feet, and were just as useless. What sick couch had he visited? What heart comforted? What good accomplished for the benefit of his kindred? Why, the very Shadows, dim and soulless as they were, had done more good than he had done, and Ready Money trembled as the thought came home to him. One grand fellow bent his tall form before the Shadow King and said that when the summer sun waxed hot and fierce over the Australian Continent he cast himself across the fiery pathway of the burning rays, thereby refreshing many a broiling citizen, and making cool and restful shade beneath tree and hill, and giving beauty to field and stream, by throwing lovely, translucent shadows over them, and so bringing out to full perfection the form and colour of all created things.

Then there advanced Shadows of a gloomier, darker hue. Drooping, careworn, and sorrow-laden, they had come from the houses of the very poor, from courts of justice, from prison cells where criminals sat in silence and despair. Many had come from homes where there was no love of parents; where wives and husbands were at strife; where fierce words, and cruel blows, and hard usage were the rule of daily death in life. Others had just left places of business, where men, who ought to know better, toiled year after year to increase their wealth, striving after gold, lying and cheating for it, holding it tightly when they had it, and shuddering as the time drew near when they must go hence and leave it all to others.

If these Shadows, fresh from counting-houses and cobweb-covered chambers, wherein sat men faded and wan, as the colourless walls around them, if they had been the Shadow only of this listening mortal, they could hardly have presented a more realistic picture of his life in the past than they did in their report of others.

Lying there powerless, there came upon him a strong desire to get back amongst his fellow-men if it were only for one short month—nay, but only the length of a brief day; for in it what good might be done and what atonement made! Alas! for our resolution. Ready Money was fast held beneath the influence of the wand of Rubywings, and therefore could not budge.

When the grim Shadows rested, there came an altogether merrier group upon the scene. These related how they had given their attention to schoolrooms, alarming idle boys and girls by bringing the Shadow of their teachers upon them just in the middle of a game of romps. Others again had had rare fun with naughty little folks who were going to help themselves to sugar and jam, by looking over their shoulders and making believe that some one was coming.

Next the house Shadows took their turn, and showed how they engaged themselves, by making pleasant figures on the floor and walls, dancing in the firelight, and playing bo-peep in the curtains on winter evenings. When all the reports were finished, the King called to the Wind to dismiss the Shadows.

Then the Wind came, and the Shadows, ere they took their departure, amused themselves as they liked best. In the most surprising manner some played leap-frog, hide-and-seek, and blind-man’s-buff. Others raced along the sward and up the side of the hills, like so many will-o’-the-wisps; many changing into all kinds of strange and fantastic shapes, until the silver light dimmed and died out, and the beautiful garden resumed its grandeur as before.

And a change came o’er the slumbering mortal. Slowly he opened his eyes, but the fairy with her enchanting wand was not there, nor the flowers and trees. Nothing, save the high boundary wall of ice and the white-bearded Frost King standing near.

“Resume thy earth-woven memories, O mortal!” he said in a grave, solemn tone. “Stand upright that I may touch thee. So! Go thy way for a brief season. In thy daily wanderings here and there thy former friends shall not recognise thee! From henceforth, Greed, Selfishness, Envy, and all of that nature that were dear to thee, shall become thy bitter foes. Remember what the Shadows said. Farewell!”

Down, earthward, with tottering and uncertain step went the mortal; downward, along the broad, sunny pathway, where innumerable birds sang, and trees waved, and where the low, hoarse murmur of bread-winning millions ascended to the Creator.

LIFE AND DEATH.

Once upon a time an old man and a fairy sat by the wayside talking.

“When the world was first created,” said the elfin, “it was appointed how many years each creature should exist. So the horse came and inquired how long he was to live.

“‘Thirty years,’ he was told, and then was asked, ‘Is that sufficient?’

“‘Alas!’ replied the beast, ‘that is a long time. Think how many wearisome burdens I shall have to carry from morning to night beneath a hot sun, that man, my master, may eat bread and live at ease, and I receive nothing but blows and hard words, and must yet keep always active and obliging. The time is too long. Take away some of my years, I pray.’

“So the horse was pitied, and a life of only eighteen years was appointed to him. Whereupon he went gladly away; and the dog then made his appearance and asked,—

“‘What is the duration of my life?’

“‘How long do you wish to live?’ was inquired of him. ‘Thirty years was allotted to the horse, but that was too much for him; perhaps you will be satisfied with that term?’

“‘Do you think so?’ answered the dog. ‘Remember how much I shall have to run and bark and bite. My feet will not last the time, and when I have lost my voice and my teeth, and can neither bark nor bite, what will then be for me but to crawl and howl from one corner to another?’

“Therefore the dog’s plea was granted, and twelve years appointed for his age. After which he departed and made room for the monkey.

“‘You will live thirty years willingly, no doubt,’ was said to the ape. ‘You need not work like the horse or the dog, and therefore will always be well off.’

“‘Indeed, it should be so’ replied Jacko, ‘but I have found it different. Mine is anything but a life of indolence. I must always be aping my betters, and making comical faces for people to laugh at. Many a hard nut I have to crack. And as sadness is often hidden beneath a grin, so have I to show my teeth, even if they are aching with pain. Please shorten the years of my life.’ So ten years were allotted to him.

“Last of all man appeared, healthy and vigorous, and requested a term to be appointed to him.

“‘You shall live thirty years,’ was the reply. ‘Is that enough?’

“‘What a short time!’ exclaimed the man. ‘Just when I shall have cleared my land, built myself a house, and lighted a fire upon my own hearth, and I am thinking of enjoying life, I must die. I pray let my life be lengthened.’

“‘Very well. The eighteen years of the horse shall be added.’

“‘That is not sufficient,’ said man.

“‘You shall have also twelve years of the dog’s life thereto.’

“‘Still too little,’ replied the man.

“‘Then you may have the ten years allowed to the monkey, but you must desire no more.’

“Man was then obliged to leave, but he was not satisfied.

“Thus man lives seventy years. The first thirty are the days of his manhood, which pass quickly away; he is then strong and lusty, works with pleasure, and rejoices in his being. Then follow the eighteen years of the life of the horse which brings in its train burdens which he must bear from the rising to the setting of the sun, and wherein blame and abuse often reward him for his labours. Next come the twelve years of the dog, during which man has to sit in corners, because he has lost the power to bark and bite. And when this time is up the ten years of the monkey bring the close of the scene, for in these man becomes foolish, gabbers and jabbers without end, and is fit for nothing but——”

The elfin paused, and gazed earnestly at the mortal.

“But what?” cried the old man.

“But—Death. The portal which leads into the vast unknown, and from which we elves are debarred,” responded the fairy.

“And what is Death?”

“A certainty, O mortal, for all thy race. No more or less than that. Ere I go hence from thee for ever hear this fable:—

“In olden times a giant wrestled with this terrible enemy Death, and vanquished him. As the grim foe lay helpless by the wayside he began to grumble. ‘What will be the consequence of my downfall to the world? If I lie here, then it will be so full and crowded with humanity that they will not be able to move for each other.’

“Just then a young man came up the road, strong and healthy, singing a song, and looking well about him. As soon as he perceived the conquered one he went up to him, and compassionately raising him, bound up his wounds, and nursed him until strength returned.

“‘Do you know who I am?’ asked Death, when he was fairly on his legs again.

“‘No,’ replied the youth. ‘I know you not.’

“‘I am Death,’ he replied. ‘I spare no one, and can take no excuse from you even. But to show you that I am not ungrateful, I promise not to take you unawares, but I will send my messengers before I come and fetch you.’

“‘Very well,’ said the young man, ‘that is a bargain. Until your harbingers come I shall be safe from you.’

“With this understanding the mortal pursued his way merrily, and lived in prosperity for some time; but youth and health will not remain for ever. Pain and sickness and grief came, and the man complained that there was no rest for him night or day. ‘I shall not die,’ he said, ‘for Death must first send his messengers; but I wish these fearful days of illness were over.’

“Health returned again, and he began to live as usual. One day, somebody knocked at the window, and looking round he saw Death standing behind him. ‘Follow me,’ he said.

“‘How so?’ exclaimed the mortal. ‘Will you break the promise that you made to me, that your servants should first give me notice ere you appeared? I have not seen them.’

“‘Be silent,’ replied Death. ‘Have I not sent you one messenger after another? Did not fever come and seize you and lay you prostrate? Did not racking pain oppress your limbs, noises sound in your ears, a dimness cover your eyes? Above all, did not my twin brother, Sleep, remind you every night that I should come?’

“And the man knew not what to reply, and was therefore taken away.”

When the elfin had thus spoken he vanished from the mortal’s view.

GIANTS.

I, Martin Crowe, am a book-loving vagabond. Reading hath charms for me not to be found in men or women. My few quaint volumes are my companions and my friends. True, I cannot borrow money from, or use them according to my worldly necessity; nevertheless, they speak to me in many voices, some in tones of deep wisdom, others in the witchery of suggestive imagery, until my humble study, with its scanty furniture and bare walls, vanish altogether from my outward senses.

It is late. On this long winter night I have been deep into the pages of the famous astronomer, Newton; and although I have laid down the book before me on the table, my mind is still busy at the threshold of the mysterious realm of Nature, to which I have been introduced by the wand of the magician. If knowledge is power, it sometimes happens that the power does not bring happiness in its train, but often assumes strange shapes. As I sat and looked with vacant eyes at what, for the moment, I saw not, behold the table before me became gradually luminous. At first the light was flickering and uncertain, rising and falling in a shapeless mass, but it quickly brightened into a spiral-shaped luminary, which presently assumed the form of a venerable old man.

I cannot venture an opinion as to the means employed by my strange visitor for his entrance into my chamber, any more than you can explain to me the manifestations of clairvoyance and electro-biology.

From the first appearance of the light, and during the subsequent gradations which qualified my vision to discover a personage with the aspect of a seer of the olden time standing at my side, I have no clear idea of anything save that of being held by an all-powerful spell towards him. I had studied animal magnetism, and curative mesmerism under Tom Buckland, and knew a thing or two with reference to passes, currents, and counter-currents, but I found my will ebbing away before the steady fingers and calm eyes of the stranger, whose stronger influence seemed to wrap me round and round as with a band of steel, utterly powerless to speak or move, except at the will of my companion. Yet I felt my sensations in rapid play to all around me. Nay, more, the sense of hearing and observation seemed marvellously quickened within me, and the intensity of thought brightened from the gross element which had previously partially obscured it. The shape found voice, and addressed me:—

“Young man, I am the guardian of Nature’s chief secrets,” it said, replying to the unasked question on my lip. “Men call me Knowledge, but my name is Science. What dost thou want with me?”

I found the power of speech return to me ere the last words were uttered.

“Let me behold some of Nature’s secrets,” I cried eagerly.

“Thou art a bold mortal.”

“I am earnest. Even as the aspiring thoughts that meet me in this book, I would soar and know.”

“Of course,” replied the voice. “Although I come to thee in fairy form and guise, I am the servant of thought. It was not the uttered word that did summon me, but the force of the inward wish to understand within thee. Well, I am here. If thou wouldst see some of the giants of the future, follow me.”

I had no will but to follow him, as he led the way out of the doorway into the silent night, under the whispering trees beyond the city, across the bridge of the river, and away to the summit of a hill, with the waves of the gulf thundering at its base.

“All human knowledge commences in dreams,” he said in a low tone. “Trance hovers over measureless secrets, and forms the first faint bridge between them and thought. Look steadfastly on the moon yonder.”

I obeyed in silence. I had no power otherwise than to obey. As I gazed, the pale orb of night appeared to expand and dilate until its luminous circumference diffused all space, and in the midst of this shining atmosphere I became aware of a strange sense of heavenly liberty pervading my whole being. It seemed as if hitherto I had been bound with a strong chain, which had suddenly snapped asunder, and had yielded me unutterable freedom from the body, and had imparted a bird-like lightness which floated me into space itself. Through this space a swift succession of shadowy landscapes rolled; mountains, trees, cities, ships, and inland seas glided along, like the drifting clouds seen in a stormy sky, until at length, settled and stationary, I saw a vast cave in the heart of a gloomy forest.

“Enter, and beware of Fear,” cried the voice at my side. At the sound the ecstasy and lightness which had been upon me faded away, and a sort of languor seized my frame, without communicating itself to the mind.

Downward by a stairway of rugged rock I was led into what seemed a terrible abyss. Round and round in spiral form we descended for many miles, amid noises loud and new to me, when our farther progress was abruptly stopped by a massive door formed in the solid rock, and which was guarded by monsters of various shapes, called Ignorance. Erect and threatening they rose to crush me, but at sight of my conductor they fell down again in abject submission and opened the door; whereupon we passed into a mighty cavern, so wide and so lofty that its magnitude astounded me, its limit reaching far beyond my range of vision. Here I beheld huge giants, mightier than ever appeared in legend or fairy tale. Many were toiling hard, some lay reclining, as if just awakened from a deep sleep; while others slumbered peacefully. Dim and indistinct as the light here glimmered, I could see the ponderous shapes plainly. With the will to question my guide came the power of speech.

“Who is yonder fellow,” I asked, “seated astride the trident rock? What huge limbs he has!”

“That is young Australia,” replied the voice. “The ages have cradled him. He is only a baby awakened out of his first sleep. I predict the infant will develop into a magnificent giant by-and-by,” rejoined the voice.

“What is the name of this powerful-looking creature here with the gigantic head?” I inquired, pointing to a monster who seemed but just awakened from a long nap.

“Electricity. It is a name but little known as yet,” replied the sage, “but your children will see this new land filled with its wonders. You see the giant has only been disturbed, not awakened.”

“Why do they not rouse him up to action, O wise sage?”

“Because the time for him to use his great and varied powers has not come,” answered the voice gravely. “Powers wrested from Nature for the benefit of mankind may be also turned into a scourge for the innocent. A Titan war is waging ever among men, the good for ever on the defensive, the bad for ever in assault. Perchance ’tis well the giant sleeps.”

“There is another giant standing near Electricity, whose proud look I have often noted on the faces of men I have met. Who is he?”

“He is called Money, otherwise Cash, often Hard Cash,” replied the voice in answer. “Truly he is a powerful fellow. Sometimes great and god-like in his liberality, at other times he is mean and selfish. Mark what an affinity between him and the prostrate monster. In the far-off future, I see them hand-in-hand together, working a wonderful change on the face of Nature and in the condition of mankind.” A faint smile passed across the features of the sage as he uttered the words.

“One question more. Pray tell me the name of yon noble creature who seems as though he were able to prop the globe single-handed?”

“Ah, that is the twin brother of young Australia, and his name is Enterprise,” added the voice proudly. “Up and doing, early and late, ever active and daring in speculation. Australian Enterprise has promised that this, his country, shall be the commercial focus of the earth some time in the future, which shall also uprouse these slumbering giants.”

The voice ceased speaking; but another voice, well known to my waking ears as that of my landlady, filled the vacuum, with the following choice sentence:—

“Mr. Crowe, I hopes you remember that I’m a widder with five innercent children to keep, and can’t afford to let you fall asleep and burn every drop of ile out of the lamp for a guinea a week, washing included! There now!”

THE KANGAROO HUNTER.