First Week

A LITTLE BOY OF BELGIUM

Last week I told you something about the quaint old cities of Belgium. One of the quaintest and oldest is Ghent. It stands where two rivers come together in the wild beauty of Flanders.

Ghent has canals running up and down and across it. It is really a city of islands joined together by bridges. If you lived there, you might, perhaps, cross two or three of these bridges on your way to school, or when you went to market for fruit and vegetables. I'm sure you would stop often to watch the busy boats going up and down. On the twenty-ninth of August, 1862, in the city of Ghent, a little boy was born. His father's name was Maeterlinck. He belonged to a family that had lived in Flanders for hundreds of years. The new baby was named Maurice. I think some good fairy-folk must have been around at his birth to give him gifts. Perhaps one of them dangled a sack of rainbow dreams up and down before his eyes, so radiant that he must always see them. Maybe one touched the baby hand with the power to write. And still another, perhaps, put something in the baby-heart to keep it always young.

When he was still a little boy, Maurice went to live in a queer dull little town called Oostacker. It was on a canal that came from Ghent. I'm sure the house must have held pleasant things, or things that looked pleasant to the little boy. And outside, there was a garden. It was like other gardens in some ways - it had roses in it, and bees and butterflies and birds. But it was different from most of our gardens because it was so near the canal that the ships seemed to slip right through it. Think of having a real canal and real ships for playthings. Of course, with the ships passing up and down, going from place to place, and with the blossoms and winds and waters to help, Maurice dreamed and made up stories.

But by and by he had to leave his "make-believing" and go back to Ghent to school. We are told that it was a very strict school. I think the boy didn't like it as well as the garden and the canal. Books were interesting things, to be sure, and set him to wondering about all sorts of subjects. But out-of-doors was better. I'm sure he used to watch the busy life of the canals from the bridges. And I'm sure he loved the bells in their quaint old belfries. In one of these belfries, you know, with forty-three others, lived "Old Ronald the Bell." It was

A Water Wheel

VIII

he, you remember, that tolled for fires and rang for victory. Perhaps the old bells told stories to the schoolboy. Anyhow his head was still full of stories and fancies and strange thoughts.

So after awhile that hand that had been told to write, began to write down the things in his head. Strange, mysterious little things he wrote bits of verse and prose, some of which were published.

Now his family wanted him to be a lawyer. Perhaps they didn't know he had been intended from the start to be a writer. He tried to study law. But stories and poems would get in the way and have to be written.

When he was twenty-four he left Ghent and Belgium and went to Paris to live. But the dreams and fancies went along, and were more real to him than the dry old law books.

We read that he didn't have a good voice for speaking. He did have a ready hand for writing. After awhile he gave up the law and did the thing he liked best to do.

His father died. And Maurice Maeterlinck went back to Oostacker to his canal and his garden. One of his windows, we read, showed him a "dark land of marshes, of pools, and of oak and pine forests." And "between enormous willows" there was "a straight and gloomy canal."

Of course these things got into his stories- you'll find them there when you come to read what he has written. Some of them are strange and mysterious and gloomy. But the man, himself, doesn't look sad or mysterious. Do you know his picture? He is big and strong looking. His eyes look as if he might see into the inside of things, somehow, just as they do. But his heart has stayed quite, quite young.

He was a very simple sort of man. We read that once when he was invited to a dinner, he said he would go if the dinner was not too formal. "I am a peasant," he said.

He

When he wasn't writing, he was out-of-doors. He rowed on the canal in summer and skated in winter. walked in the woods or rode his wheel along the country roads. He had many hives of bees and loved to watch them and study their ways. He studied flowers, too. When he writes about bees and flowers he makes them seem alive like people. He loved dogs, too. We are told he once tried to teach a dog to sing.

By and by, there came into Maeterlinck's head, a beautiful little fairy-play or fairy-story. Because his head still loved to "make believe" and his heart had never quite grown up, this play was just the kind little children everywhere love and want to hear again and again.

It is full of the pink of dawn and the starry dark. It is sweet with forest and stream. And there are other things in it, too-stately halls a-gleam with wonderful colors; fire, light, fairies, children - oh, yes, and a wonderful dog and cat. And always just ahead of us in the story, there flits a lovely bird, like a bit of blue dropped from the April sky.

Maeterlinck's "Bluebird" didn't stay in Belgium. It spread its wings and flew to France and to England. It was played in great theatres to packed and breathless houses. Big folk and little folk laughed and wept and went wild over it. On swift wings it crossed the ocean. Here it found a whole country full of little folk who love fairies and the things they do. Now, in our homes and schools, in our theatres and moving pictures, that

All night, all day,
I'd like to sail
Away, away,

Through sun and gale.

And see strange ports,
In far-off lands,
And crumbling forts,
And coral strands.

The Sea Sings to the Garden

I have swung for ages to and fro,

I have striven in vain to reach thy feet,

O garden of joy, whose walls are low,

And odors are so sweet! - Rossiter W. Raymond

Second Week

THE FAIRY'S VISIT

(Adapted from "The Bluebird")

- and

Once upon a time — a Christmas time, too - two little children were doing one of the strangest things ever children did. They had been put to bed in their little cotsjust two little wood-cutter's children they were the lamp had been turned out. Then all of a sudden the lamp had lighted itself! If they'd looked very closely, maybe they would have seen that, this time, the flame was of a lovely blue tinge, instead of the red-orange it had been before. Fairy-things were beginning to happen, you see, and this was a fairy-flame, the color of twilight skies and dawn-mists and other lovely fairy things.

But I haven't told you yet what the children were doing that was so unusual. They had jumped out of bed to look across the street. They could see straight into a grand house, where, on Christmas Eve, the little folks were having a party. They saw the children come. They saw them play and dance. And by and by they saw them eating cakes. And this is what these two little woodcutter's children were doing in their window where the fairy-flame was burning softly blue. They were making believe that some of those delicious Christmas goodies, all nuts and cream and icing and spices, were theirs. They were pretending to eat them, and smacking their hungry little lips over them, just as if they had really had

some.

Mytyl, the dear little girl, had really and truly had some cakes once, when she was small, she remembered. Tyltyl, the dear little boy, thought he knew quite well just how they would taste, if he really did have some. And so they danced about their poor little room and ate make-believe cakes, and had the best time.

And then a Fairy came. A real live Fairy she was, too, with hooked nose, pointed chin, long wand, cap and all.

And what do you suppose she wanted? Grass that could sing and a bird that was blue.

Very politely little Tyltyl told the Fairy that while they had plenty of grass, none of it would sing. Mytyl said that Tyltyl had a bird. But Tyltyl said that he couldn't give that away because it was Fis.

The Fairy wanted to see the bird. Tyltyl pointed it out in its cage near by. But the Fairy said that the bird wasn't blue enough. She wanted it for her little daughter who was sick. And it must be very blue indeed. And then she told Tyltyl and Mytyl that they must go at once and seek for the bird that was blue.

I can't tell you all the interesting things the Fairy said and Tyltyl said and Myltyl said. You must read all those things in just the words the Fairy and the children used, themselves. But the Fairy was surprised when she found what the little folks had been doing when she came to see them eating make-believe cakes and having such a good time doing it. And not being sorry or angry or hurt because the rich children across the street could have what they wanted and couldn't have, being poor. But when Tyltyl asked the Fairy to look and see how beautiful it was in the great house over the way, she told him that his own little house was just as beautiful, if only he could see it. And she grew quite angry with Tyltyl when he said he had good eyes, and yet couldn't see that she was young and fair and golden-haired.

By and by, she gave Tyltyl a little green hat to wear on his search for the bird that was blue. It was the dearest little hat, too, with a cockade. And in the cockade was something that twinkled and gleamed like a little star. The Fairy told Tyltyl that this was the wonderful diamond that made people see. She showed him how to use it. Put the hat on your head and turn the diamond to the left, it opened your eyes so you could see things just as they are. Another sort of twist to the diamond, and you looked way back into the past. Still another, and you looked away into the future.

Tyltyl was delighted with the diamond. He put the hat on his head. He turned the diamond a little, and Oh, so many things happened all at once!

First of all, maybe, the Fairy grew as young and fair as you've ever seen. And everything about the poor little room grew beautiful beyond any words. The walls

Tyltyl, Light and Mytyl

turned a lovely blue and flashed with precious stones The furniture grew rich and costly. The spinning-wheel began to buzz and hum all by itself. And the old clock winked and smiled. Its door swung open noiselessly, and out of it came a troop of dear, rosy little folks - "pretty ladies," Tyltyl called them.

The Fairy said they were really Hours. How they did dance about to soft, sweet fairy-music that came from somewhere or other. And suddenly, out of the great bread-pan, where Mother had set the bread-loaves to rise, came a crowd of eager, crusty little men to join in the dance. They were the souls of the loaves of bread.

The fire leaped straight out of his hearth and became the most wonderful real live being, all red and gold. And he chased after the bread-loaves.

Something began to sing from the tap. Suddenly, out of it gushed a little fountain all green sparkles and pearls. And out of this fountain sprang a tearful, beautiful little creature, who was the soul of Water. Water at once began to fight Fire.

The milk-jug upset and broke. Up sprang a meek, bashful, timid little thing, which was the soul of Milk. And the sugar-loaf split his paper and became a tall being in blue and white.

And funniest of all, the dog and cat disappeared. And in their places were two strange little creatures. The one with the dog's face was really Tylo, the dog. And the one with the cat's face was Tylette, the cat. Tylo wanted to kiss Tyltyl and Mytyl, whom he loved best in all the world. Dogs are just like that, you know. When they love you, you can be good or bad, they go right on loving you just the same. But Tylette, the cat, while he offered his paw and said nice things too, was really a little sly and tricky. You do need to watch your cat. Sometimes, even when he purrs, he sticks out his claws and scratches you.

But all these strange little people who filled the cottage, were forgotten all in a minute. For suddenly, the lamp fell from the table. Out of its flame came the most beautiful maiden you can think of, all soft rainbow colors, with a face radiant as sunrise.

"That is Light," whispered the Fairy, while the children gazed, wide-eyed, at the beautiful, joyous creature, smiling at them. And when she smiled, behold-round and round on their shelves spun the saucepans. Out of the linen

press peeped lovely fabrics of all sorts and colors. Down from the loft came rags and tatters, all splendid, too.

Just at that very moment came sounds from the next room. "Daddy is coming!" cried Tyltyl

"Turn the diamond-quickly!" cried the Fairy. "Oh, not quite so quickly!" she added.

But Tyltyl's frightened fingers had turned the diamondjust a little too quickly. The Fairy had time to go back to being an old woman with a hump and a hooked nose. The spinning-wheel stopped spinning. Many of the other thing changed back to what they were at first. But, try as he would, one of the loaves of Bread wouldn't squeeze back into his pan. Fire couldn't get back into his chimney. Water couldn't find her tap. Sugar couldn't get into his paper wrappings. Oh, such a time as there was then! Bread cried. Fire rushed wildly about. Water

wept. Sugar and Milk didn't know what to do. Tylo and Tylette could still talk and laugh. And glad enough they were that the diamond turned too quickly for them to go back to being just ordinary cat and dog. Then the Fairy told them that they must all go on the journey with Tyltyl nd Mytyl to find the wonder-bird for her little sick girl. They were all frightened and timid and didn't want to do such an unheard-of thing. All? Oh, no! Light stood serene and radiant, ready to go anywhere and do anything she could to find beauty, joy and all good things. And somebody else was ready to go, too Tylo, the dog. Of course, he wanted to go with his little master and mistress, anywhere, everywhere. So this strange company - Tyltyl, Mytyl, Light, Tylo, Tylette, Fire, Water, Bread. Sugar and Milk started off together on their long, dangerous journey to find the Bluebird.

Fairy Folks

The story-books have told you
Of the fairy-folks so nice,
That make their leather aprons
Of the ears of little mice.
And wear the leaves of roses,

Like a cap upon their heads,
And sleep at night on thistle-down,
Instead of feather-beds. - Alice Cary
Fairies

Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men.
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together,
Green jacket, red cap,

And white owl's feather.

First of all, they went to the Fairy's house. There from Bluebeard's great old chest, they chose what clothes they wanted to wear on their journey. Of course, you want to hear how everyone was dressed.

Tyltyl picked out a suit as much like Hop o' my Thumb's as he possibly could. He wore scarlet knickerbockers, blue jacket, white stockings and tan shoes. Mytyl made herself into a dear little Red Riding Hood, and then borrowed Cinderella's slippers to wear on her feet. Light was the loveliest thing you ever saw. She seemed all pale-gold, shot through with the bright colors of dawn noon and sunset. Tylo strutted along in red dress-coat, all gold-lace, white breeches, top-boots, and a shiny hat. Tylette, who was very proud of his own glossy black furs, wore only a cloak of deep violet over them. But he set a three-cornered hat on his head and carried a dress-sword. Bread, who was a great stout person, wore crimson. Above his red puffed-out cheeks, rose a funny turban. He carried a scimitar. When anyone was hungry, he could slice off a piece of himself and give it to them, you see. He carried,

also, the cage to put the Bluebird in, when he was found. Sugar wore silk, half blue and half white. His fingers were sticks of barley sugar. When he broke off one or two, new fingers grew at once. Bread and Sugar were handy people to take on a journey. Milk wore her own favorite color, cream-white. Fire was the most wonderful thing! His coat was fire-red, lined with deep gold. A sort of aigrette on his head waved and flamed and flashed wherever he went. Water was lovely in blue-green, all ripples. Her head-dress was made of water-flowers and seaweeds. I can't begin to tell you all the wonderful things that happened to Tyltyl and Mytyl on this journey to find the Bluebird. Some were sad and strange. Some were beautiful and glad. All were wonderful.

All alone, they went to the Land of Memory. At the entrance of this Land, grew great fragrant white pansies of thought. In the Land of Memory, they found a bird which seemed beautifully blue. They put it into their cage. But when they came away and gave it to Light, it was only a blackbird, after all.

Then, with all the company except Light, they visited the Palace of Night. Of course, Light had nothing to do with darkness, so she couldn't go. This palace was a great, dark, weird place. Brave little Tyltyl, with faithful Tylo beside him, opened door after door, to find the precious Bluebird, and had many strange adventures with the things that belong to Night.

Some of these were foolish enough, like "Terrors" and "Ghosts." Then there were the Wars, which wanted to get out and make everyone trouble. They had to be forced back by all the company together. Then there were some beautiful things which belong to Night, too, such as Perfumes, Stars, Dew and Songs of Nightingales. (Continued on page 246)