King Oberon’s Library.

IT was after dinner, I think, as I was seated in my arm-chair before the fire, tired out with hard work, and therefore half asleep. All day long it had been snowing hard, and even now, at seven o’clock in the evening, it was still coming down in great white flakes, making the earth look like a beautiful birthday cake. There was no light in the room, except the red glimmer of the fire that flickered and flared on the wide hearth, roaring up the great chimney, as if it was grumbling to itself at having to go out into the cold, cold night.

Now, I am very fond of the firelight in a dark room at such an hour, for it casts strange shadows, which put strange fancies into my head, and I tell these strange fancies to good children, which pleases them very much. For the children I tell them to are very wise, and believe in these strange fancies, calling them faery tales, as indeed they are. Grown-up people do not believe in faery tales, which is a great pity, because there are many good and beautiful stories told of the faeries, which make people who really understand them better and wiser. But all children understand them because all children know that Faeryland exists, and, therefore, the strange fancies called faery tales must necessarily be true.

Well, as I said before, I was seated half-asleep in my arm-chair in the dark, watching the fire burning merrily on the hearth, and sending out great shafts of red light to explore dark corners, where goblins are fond of lurking. On the roof and on the wall danced the firelight shadows in the most amusing manner; but they are foolish folk these same shadows, belonging to the strange Kingdom of Shadowland, which lies near the realm of Faery; yet not mingling with it in any way, for in Faeryland, as wise children know, there are no shadows at all.

I grew tired watching the shadow-dance, so, letting my chin sink on my breast, I stared into the red hollows and burning caverns made by the flames among the logs of wood. There I saw all kinds of curious things,—turreted castles, which held enchanted princesses, broad red plains, across which journeyed brave knights in armour, to deliver those same princesses, and huge rocky caverns wherein dwelt cruel magicians, who try to stop the brave knights from reaching the enchanted castles. I saw all these things in the fire, and you can see them also, if you look steadily into the flames at night-time, because then everything is under the spell of faery power. But you must believe very hard indeed, as you look, for the faeries will not let their country be seen by children who doubt that the beautiful land exists.

There were some twigs on the logs still bearing a few withered leaves, but, being out of reach of the fire, they were not burnt up; nevertheless the flames made them quiver with their hot breath, just as if they were still being shaken by the cool breeze of the forest.

Now, while I was looking at the shaking of the withered leaves, a cricket began to chirp, and, whether it was the magic of the darkness, or the influence of the faeries, I do not know, but I understood every word of the song the cricket sang. Oh, it was really a famous singer, that merry cricket, and the song it sang went something after this fashion.

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