CHAPTER XII.
THE STORY OF A NEEDLE AND A COMPASS.
ONCE upon a time, in the days of fairies—”
“How long ago?” inquired Eddy.
“Well, you must not ask too particularly about that,” laughed George; “but I suppose that, as there is a compass in my story, it must have been after the compass was invented—about the thirteenth century, that is to say, though some believe that the Chinese had it more than two thousand years before.”
“But what is a compass?” said Eddy, looking up.
“Oh, Eddy,” cried Lily with impatience, “you must not interrupt us every minute!”
“Poor little fellow! it is very natural that he should like to understand,” observed George “I’ll try to explain it to you, Eddy. There is a strange substance, called loadstone, dug out of the ground, for which iron has a wonderful fancy. If a lump of it were placed in Lily’s work-box, all her needles and scissors, and her keys, if she had any, would jump to it, and cling to it in a minute, just as you would jump into mother’s arms.”
“Oh, I wish that I had a lump as big as my head! I should like to see the poker and the tongs and the shovel all jumping!” exclaimed Eddy, full of merriment at the thought.
“And the odd thing is,” continued George, “that when iron is well rubbed with this loadstone, it seems as though it grew just like it, for it gets the very same curious property of attracting other bits of iron. One of the boys at my school had a large steel magnet—that is, steel that had been rubbed with the loadstone—and it was the funniest thing in the world to see a dozen needles sticking to it at once, like so many quills upon a porcupine.”
“But what has this to do with the compass?” inquired Lily.
“It has a great deal to do with the compass. It has been discovered that magnets, when put in such a position that they can freely move in any direction, are sure always to turn towards the north: so little instruments are formed, holding a small piece of steel made into a magnet, not fixed, but left to tremble and tremble, till, like a tiny finger, it points towards the North Pole.”
“What is the use of that?” said Eddy.
“It is of wonderful use,” answered George. “Why, only think of poor sailors at sea; when there is nothing but water, wide water, around them, and when the clouds hide the sun or the stars, how can they tell which way to steer?”
“I don’t know,” said Eddy, quite puzzled.
“They look at their clever little compass—they see in what direction it points—they know from it where the north and south lie; and the tiny magnet serves as a guide.”
“What a clever little compass!” cried Eddy; “now, please go on with your story.”
“Well, as I said, once upon a time, in a beautiful garden, near a beautiful palace, there sported two beautiful children. They were the little son and daughter of a king; and they were brought up with such foolish indulgence, that in all things they had their own way. They did not like spelling, so they never learned to spell; they did not know their tables; they never looked at maps; they could not so much as count their fingers!”
“Oh!” exclaimed Eddy, “the stupid little things!”
“They were not naturally more stupid than others,” replied George; “but then they were terribly idle. They were of no use to any one in the world. They did nothing but gather fruit and eat it, and make garlands of pretty flowers, and sing aloud their foolish little song—
‘I love to be idle, I love to be gay,
I’ll throw my books and my work away;
From morning till night—all play, all play!’”
There was a twinkle in Eddy’s merry eye that seemed to say that he felt no surprise at the idle taste of the children.
“Well,” continued George, winding rapidly all the time that he spoke, “one day they were playing together in the garden, when they were surprised to hear a low, soft sound, which came from a bed of flowers. They ran eagerly to the spot, and, standing in the cup of a tulip, a fine tulip, all streaked with crimson and white, what do you think they saw?”
Eddy suspected a wasp, or a dragon-fly.
“No; a lovely little fairy, with gossamer wings, all spangled with silver and gold; and she held in her hand a fine glittering wand, not half so big as the tiniest needle!
“‘Oh, foolish children!’ she cried, in a soft, sweet voice, which sounded like the tinkling of a bell, ‘do you think life was made only for a plaything, and time given to be thrown away in folly! There is work in this world for every one to do, and everything is created for some use. As you have never, with your wills, done any service to mankind, it is your doom to do service without them. Your eyes, your ears, your hands, your tongues, have been given you to no purpose; their powers shall now be taken quite away; for seven long years you shall toil in humble estate, till you have learned how great is the value of time, and opportunity to do some good to others!’
“While the little prince was wondering what the fairy could mean, she stretched her gossamer wings, and flying towards him, she touched him on the face with her wand. A very odd feeling came over him at once. He seemed to be contracting like an india-rubber ball, when some one has let out the air. Feet and legs, hands and arms, appeared drawn into his body; and the body itself became smaller, and rounder, and harder, every minute, till nothing was left of the poor little prince but a mariner’s compass in a neat brass case, with its slender finger trembling, trembling, till it found its resting-place towards the north!”
Eddy opened his blue eyes very wide at the idea of such a strange transformation, and nearly let the skein of wool slip over his fingers.
“The little girl stood amazed, as you may suppose, at the singular change in her brother. In her surprise to see him shrink into so curious a shape, she was uttering a cry of dismay, when her tongue, all on a sudden, ceased to move, her fingers appeared fastened to her sides, her feet joined together and grew into a point—she shrank, shrank, as if going to disappear altogether—till, where the little princess had stood, there only lay on the ground a small needle!”
“Oh, George, what a comical story!” cried Lily, smoothing down the dress, which she now had finished mending.
“Please, go on,” exclaimed Eddy; “what did the fairy do next?”
“Turning towards the mariner’s compass, and waving her wand to the sound of strange wild music in the air, she sang the following words:—
‘Upon the stormy tide
The weary seaman guide,
And point to the North across the ocean wide!’
Then bending over the needle, she continued the lay—
‘What is marred, make right;
What is severed, unite;
And leave where’er you pass a golden thread of light!’
Then in what manner they were conveyed away I know not, but suddenly the compass found itself on the deck of a ship, and the needle in the work-box of a young lady.”
“That was Lily,” suggested Eddy.
“Oh! as if we lived in the time of the fairies!” exclaimed his sister, now busy again with her pen-wiper.
“Well, we may call industry and affection good fairies,” said George, “for what wonderful changes they make! But to go on with my little story.
“For seven long years the compass and the needle were as clever and useful, and did as much work, as compass and needle could do. The one was tossed on the stormy sea, was nearly lost in a shipwrecked vessel, and when it was deserted by its crew, and almost everything else left behind, they took it with them, as something more precious than gold, and by it were guided to safety! It were endless to tell all the good deeds of the tiny needle in its quiet little home; how many holes it mended, how many poor it clothed, what beautiful pen-wipers it made,” George added, glancing playfully at his sister, “till at last—”
“Well, what happened at last?” said Eddy.
“At last, one lovely summer morn, when all the birds were singing, and the flowers smelling sweet, and the trees waving softly in the air, in the beautiful garden of a beautiful palace the two beautiful children found themselves again, with their arms closely twined around each other!”
“Had they not grown in all that time?” inquired Lily.
“They had grown wiser, dear; but the years that had passed seemed to them like nothing but a dream; and a dream they would have thought them, so exactly did everything appear as it had done before, had not the same silvery voice come from the centre of a rose, and the same fairy form appeared with spangled wings, and tiny glittering wand!
“‘Let not the lessons which you have learned be forgotten!’ she cried. ‘Follow the same path of usefulness now with your wills as you have lately been doing without them. Let not lifeless brass and steel do more than beings with reason, judgment, and affection. Let the heart still point to the pole-star of duty in every danger and trouble; and your home be cheered by the quiet virtues which adorn the peace-maker, the comforter, the friend!’ Then bursting into song as she vanished into air, the fairy’s musical voice was heard:—
Your fellow-creatures guide,
And point to a shore beyond the stormy tide!
What is marred, make right;
What is severed, unite;
And leave where’er you pass love’s golden thread of light!’”
“That’s a pretty little story!” said Eddy, as his brother wound off the end of his skein. “You must teach me the tiny fairy’s song—
‘What is marred, make right.’
Just say it over again once or twice, Georgie.”
“What do you think of it?” said I to Mrs. Scissors.
“Oh, you know very well that it is not in my line,” she replied, in a snappish manner; “I sever what is united, and cut right and left! I would not stoop to the office of a needle!”