The Zankiwank and The Bletherwitch Part 3

And so we frisk and play, Like mortals, in the day; From acorn cup we all wake up t.i.tania to obey.

We never, never die, And this the reason why, Of Fancy's art we are the part That lives eternalie.

We dance and sing in the Welkin Ring, While Heather Bells go Ding-dong-ding!

To greet the Elfin Dawn.

The Flower-fairies spread each wing, And trip about with mincing ging, Upon the magic lawn.

"They keep very good time, don't they?" said the Zankiw.a.n.k to the children, who were completely entranced with pleasure and surprise.

"Lovely, lovely," was all they could say.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Every wild flower they could think of, and every bird of the air, was to be seen in this beautiful place with the purling stream running down the centre, crossed by innumerable rustic bridges, while far away they could see a fountain ever sending upward its cooling sprays of crystal water.

"I think I shall spend my honeymoon here," said the Zankiw.a.n.k. "I have already bought a honeycomb for my bride. I am so impatient to have her by my side that I have dispatched the Jackarandajam and Mr Swinglebinks in a four-wheeled cab to fetch her. When the Bletherwitch arrives I will introduce you, and you shall both be bridesmaids!"

"But I can't be a bridesmaid, you know," corrected Willie.

"Oh yes, you can. You can be anything here you like. You only have to eat some Fern seeds and you become invisible, and n.o.body would know you.

It is so simple, and saves a lot of argument. And you should never argue about anything unless you know nothing about it, then you are sure to win."

"But," interrupted Maude, "how can you know nothing about anything?"

"'Tis the easiest thing out of the world," said the Zankiw.a.n.k. "What is nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Precisely. Nothing is nothing; but what is better than nothing?"

"Something."

"Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Where is your logic? Nothing is better than something! I'll prove it:--

"Nothing is sweeter than honey, Nothing's more bitter than gall, Nothing that's comic is funny, Nothing is shorter than tall."

"That is nonsense and nothing to do with the case," exclaimed Maude.

"Nonsense? Nonsense? Did you say nonsense?"

"Of course she did," said Willie, "and so do I."

"Nonsense! To me? Do you forget what my name is?"

"Oh, no, nothing easier than to remember it. You are the Great Zankiw.a.n.k."

"Thank you, I am satisfied. I thought you had forgotten. I am not cross with you."

Maude and Willie vowed they would not cross him for anything, let alone nothing, and so the Zankiw.a.n.k was appeased and offered to give them the correct answer to his own unanswerable conundrum. Do you know what a conundrum is though? I will tell you while the Zankiw.a.n.k is curling his whiskers:--

A conundrum is an impossible question with an improbable answer. Think it over the next time you read "Robinson Crusoe."

"Nothing is better than a good little girl; But a jam tart is better than nothing, Therefore a jam tart is better than the best little girl alive."

"What do you think of that?" said the Zankiw.a.n.k.

"I have heard something like it before. But that is nothing. Anyhow I would much rather be a little girl than a jam tart--because a jam tart must be sour because it's tart, and a little girl is always sweet,"

promptly replied Willie, kissing his sister Maude on the nose--but that was an accident, because she moved at the wrong moment.

"You distress me," said the Zankiw.a.n.k. "Suppose I were to try to shoot Folly as it flies, and hit a Fool's Cap and Bells instead, what would you say?"

"I should say that you had shot at nothing and missed it."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

At this Maude and Willie laughed girlsterously and boysterously, and the Zankiw.a.n.k wept three silent tears in the teeth of the wind and declared that nothing took his fancy so much as having nothing to take. So they took him by the arm and begged him, as he was so clever and had mentioned the name, to take them to Fancy's dwelling-place.

"I think Fancy must dwell amongst the wild flowers--the sweet beautiful wild flowers that grow in such charming variety of disorder." Saying this, Maude took Willie's hand and urged the Zankiw.a.n.k forward.

Before the Zankiw.a.n.k could reply, a company of fairies, all dressed in pink and green, leapt from the petals of the flowers and danced forward, singing to the buzz of the bees and the breaking note of the yellow-ammer with his bright gamboge breast:--

WHERE IS FANCY BRED.

O would you know where Fancy dwells?

And where she flaunts her head?

Come to the daisy-spangled dells, And seek her in her bed.

For Fancy is a maiden sweet, With all a maiden's whims; As quick as thought--as Magic fleet-- Like gossamer she skims.

O seek among the birds and bees, And search among the buds; In babbling brook, in silver seas, Or in the raging floods.

Gaze upward to the starry vault; Or ask the golden sun: Though ever you will be at fault Before your task is done.

O would you know where Fancy dwells?

It is not in the flow'rs; It is not in the chime of bells, Nor in the waking hours.

It is not in the learned brain, Nor in the busy mart; It lives not with the false and vain, But in the tender heart.

As mysteriously as they had appeared, the fairies vanished again, and only the rustling of the leaves and the twittering of the birds making melody all around, reminded the children that they were on enchanted ground. Now and then the bull-frogs would set up a croaking chorus in some marshy land far behind, but as no one could distinguish what they said it did not matter.

O to be here for ever, With the fairy band, O to wake up never From this dreamy land!

For the humblest plant is weighted With some new perfume, And the scent of the air drops like some prayer And mingles with the bloom.

O to be here for ever, and never, never wake.

Was that the music of the spheres they wondered? Somehow it seemed as though their own hearts' echo played to the words that fell so soft, like a fair sweet tender melody of fairies long ago.

The Zankiw.a.n.k had left them again, to send another telegram, perhaps, and Maude and Willie went rambling through the meadow and down by the brook, where they gathered nuts and berries and sat them down to enjoy a rural feast.

Tiny elves and fairies were constantly coming and going, some driving in wee chariots with ants for horses and oak leaves for carriages. And while all the other flowers seemed quite gay and merry in the sunshine, the Poppies were nodding their scarlet heads and gently dozing, what time some wild Holly Hocks beat to and fro murmuring--

Sleep! Sleep! Sleep!