Holidays at the Grange; or, A Week's Delight. Emily Mayer Higgins
pretty things, dear lady." "Call me mamma, Rudolph: you are now my son." "Indeed I cannot: nobody is mamma but my own dear mamma who loves me so—oh, I do so wish I could see her!" "Hush, child, that's silly. Now keep very quiet in this dark room, and you'll see something. What is this I hold in my hand?" "A great glass jar, like one of mamma's preserve jars, only much larger." "Do you see any thing in it?" "Yes, ma'am, ever so much iron wire twisted round and round." "Is there any thing else in the jar?" "Nothing at all." "Nothing you can see, but there is a kind of gas we call oxygen, which will burn when I put in a lighted piece of stick, very carefully. Look!" "Oh, beautiful, beautiful! how the wire burns! only look at the sparks! that is very pretty indeed, ma'am. Now it has all burnt out—what a pity!" "Now, Rudolph, I want to tell you about it. You must know that the air we breathe is made up of this oxygen, of nitrogen, a very little carbonic acid gas, and a small quantity of water. If the oxygen was taken out of the air, you could not live for one moment: I'll show you. You see this jar? It is full of nitrogen—of air with the oxygen taken out." "But what are you putting into it? A little mouse, I declare!" "Yes: but you see it dies instantly; it cannot live because there is no oxygen in the air." "Poor little mouse, how I wish you had not killed it! It is a shame! If I did such a cruel thing, my mamma would punish me." "Don't talk so, child! it's silly. The mouse died without any pain, and if one principle of science is fixed in your head, it is well worth the sacrifice of its insignificant life. There will be less cheese eaten in the world—that's all. Now, do you understand about oxygen and nitrogen, which chiefly make up the atmospheric air?" "I know that oxygen made the wire burn beautifully, and I know that horrid nitrogen killed the poor little mouse; but I don't half believe that they are in the air I breathe. I like to see pretty experiments, but I do hate explanations. Now will you let me fly a kite?" "Yes; come out into the open air—remember it is composed of oxygen and nitrogen—and I'll make you a kite."
So saying, she led him into the gardens, and waving her wand over a piece of birch bark, behold three splendid kites! The larger one resembled an eagle, and as it mounted into the air, and its light wings flapped in the wind, it seemed about to pounce upon the two smaller kites, which were in shape like pigeons. Rudolph was enchanted, and clapped his hands with glee. After allowing him to enjoy the novelty for some time, the Fairy said to him, "To-morrow I will show you another kite, more wonderful than these. I will make it so, that it will draw down the electricity from the sky. Have you ever rubbed a cat's fur the wrong way, in the dark?" "Oh, that I have! it's great fun. There's our black cat, at home, I have often done it to her, and I can see the sparks in cold weather." "Well, that is electricity, and there is electricity in every thing, only some objects have more than others. When you see the sparks, it is the electricity leaving a thing which is overcharged with it, for another which has less, to keep up a balance. The lightning is nothing but electricity, and to-morrow I'll make a storm, to show you how to draw down this subtle element from the clouds." "Oh, don't trouble yourself! I like this kind of kite well enough: if I have to learn about that old electricity, I'd rather give up playing kite."
"Rudolph, would you like to play at soap-bubbles?" "That I would! How I wish Bertha was here—wouldn't she clap her hands and jump, as the large bubbles fly up into the air!" "I do not wish you to think about little Bertha. Here are your basin of soapsuds and your golden pipe; now blow away, my boy!" "Oh, how very pretty! Do you see that big fellow, how he shines in the sun, and shows all the colors of the rainbow? Isn't it fine?" "That is the very thing I want to tell you about. The sun, shining upon vapor and falling water, makes all these beautiful colors. That is the way I mix the rainbow. The science which teaches about the rays of light, their reflection and refraction, and the coloring they give to different objects, is called Optics: it is an interesting study, and I wish you to be a proficient in it." "Optics, is it? That seems to me very different from blowing soap-bubbles. I do hate to be cheated into learning big words, and understanding things, when I am playing."
"The child has no brains for science, I fear!" thought the fairy. "I almost repent my bargain! However, I will not be discouraged quite yet, perhaps the proper chord has not been struck." Accordingly, she invented for him various pretty toys, since then copied by men: the kaleidoscope, with its infinite variety of shifting figures; the orrery; the prism; the burning-glass; the microscope and the telescope; and the magic lantern, with its vast variety of entertainment. Another magic spell she put into operation, by which, with the aid of an instrument in a little square box, the sun was compelled to paint landscapes and portraits, so true to life that they seemed only to lack motion. Rudolph was very happy, playing with these beautiful and ingenious toys: he thought them more entertaining than marbles, or battledore and shuttle-cock. But when the rationale came to be explained, his preceptress found her labor was all lost—there was no mistaking the fact that the child had an invincible dislike to science.
"I believe I see my mistake," thought the unconquerable Fairy. "I began at the wrong end. Children feel before they think. I must elevate his fancy, and train his imagination by communion with forms of beauty. I see that he cannot yet penetrate into the reason of things around him; but he can feel the power of the external, and when his nature is sufficiently exalted and matured, then he will of his own accord seek knowledge. Yes, sentiment comes first, and reflection will follow in its train."
Accordingly, the Fairy Queen commenced his poetical training, and for some time she flattered herself that it advanced charmingly. As the attraction of novelty had worn off from her extensive pleasure-grounds, she caused the landscape daily to change, so that all the beauties, scattered over the wide earth, were in succession placed before him. At one time, the lofty Alps rose to the sky, filling his soul with the sense of the sublime; and the chamois, with fleet foot, climbed their snowy pinnacles; while the deep, frowning precipices and the dark valleys gave him a sensation of terror, not unmingled with pleasure. Suddenly the scene would change, and he stood upon an island of the Pacific, a little emerald gem of the ocean. Around the coral reefs the waves lashed themselves into fury, and the white surf flew upward; but one little opening admitted the water gently into a quiet bay, where the deep blue rivalled that of the sky, and the water-birds swam in peace. The cocoa-nut, the plantain, and the banana spread their broad leaves to the sun, and flowers of brilliant hues and exquisite fragrance enlivened the landscape. Behind, there uprose tall cliffs covered with the richest foliage, and cascades, like silver threads, dashed downward to the sea. Again the spectacle changed, and Vesuvius appeared in flames, reddening the sky, and paling the moon; floods of lava rolled down, and rocks and ashes were tossed aloft. It seemed as if evil spirits were sporting beneath, and the mountain shook in agony. In the distance, peacefully slept the city of Naples, and that broad and beautiful bay, the admiration of the world. These objects, however, did not last. Rudolph soon lingered among sweet-scented orange groves, and plucked the golden fruit by the light of the moon, and rejoiced in perfect beauty; or wandered off into a magnolia forest, where the huge white flowers shone forth among the dark glistening leaves, and the air was heavy with fragrance. Or he paddled his small canoe among the waters of the Amazon, and saw those magnificent water-lilies, on one of whose round green leaves, with up-turned edges, he could float with perfect safety; while the brilliant tropical birds flew around, and monkeys climbed the tall trees, which were festooned with vines of luxuriant growth. Again did the scene vary—and Niagara thundered down its cliffs, filling his heart with delighted awe; resistless and changeless, rolled it then, when the deer wandered undisturbed upon its shores, as now, when thousands of visitors marvel at its grandeur, and feel the infinitude of nature and the insignificance of man.
One day the Rhine was presented to his view—its vine-clad hills, its frowning castles, its romantic scenery, and the happy peasants coming from the vintage, with songs of rejoicing. But this struck a chord untouched before. It brought up home and homely pleasures with a force and vividness that made the boy, in the midst of all sensual delights, feel a sudden sickness of the heart, a longing for the fireside, and for the every-day occupations from which he had been snatched. He thought of his father and mother, so kind and good; of merry little Bertha, ever so pleased to frolic with him—and he almost felt her chubby arm around his neck; he remembered old Fritz, and his rides upon Saladin, with his arched neck and flowing mane. He thought of the ancient hall, in which he had played such mad pranks with Bruno—even the black cat came in for a portion of his regret. And never, never more was he to behold these objects of his love! So feels the Swiss, when in a foreign land, when