The Child
The sun was slowly sinking to a crimson bed behind the distant hills and the gentle birds were singing their sweet evening vespers, when into the ancient garden crept a small, ragged, dejected-looking little boy. His golden curls gleamed bronze in the twilight rays, as his bare feet moved silently over the still grass towards the dark trees.
Standing aloof in the midst of them he came upon "the grand oak".
"Oh, Mr. Gulliver!" he gulped, as he ran to embrace the bark, "it is good to see you", and burying the roses of his cheek against the trunk he shed crystal tears of sorrow upon the ground.
Soon the little figure began to wilt and sag under the heavy burden of sleep, and finally lay a crumpled heap at the foot of the oak, the arms still embracing it.
The sun sank lower until it finally hid its face from the scene; the birds finished their vespers and retired to their leafy beds; the wind ceased to sigh in the branches. All was still and quiet.
Inside the huge rambling building there was no sound or motion. The great, ornate rooms were empty and bare. The latticed windows wore a coat of grime and everywhere there was an inch of dust. The corners and ceilings were decorated with filmy, delicate, lacy webs.
The restful hours of darkness wore on in a silence which was broken only occasionally by the contented whimpers of the dreaming child, as he stirred, saying, "Oh, Mr. Gulliver, it's good to be back. I promised I'd come back, didn't I, Mr. Gulliver?" or simply a sighing, "Dear Mr. Gulliver!" intermingled with an occasional "All's well!" from the resident owl.
Eventually a cold iron streak broke into the jewelled sky. A glad, rosy smile of welcome spread over the sky. Father Sun's warm fingers slanted through the foliage and played upon the slumbering heap of humanity, until the child slowly opened his sleepy eyes to a bright, happy world.
He sat up and stretched his arms above his head. Then, sedately crossing his hands on his knees, he turned and with cocked head addressed himself to his guardian of the night hours.
"Do you know, Mr. Gulliver, how long it took me to get here?" He paused for a reply, and then answered : "No, a little longer than that. Eight days. You see, I had to walk all the way". He paused again.
"No, Mr. Gulliver, I haven't had anything to eat since I left them".
After a further few moments he continued with a sadness which he showed not only in his voice but in his wistful gaze also.
"Well, Mr. Gulliver, he was awful. I knew he would be, and then, I didn't like his mansion. It was much bigger than ours and there were no trees, all flowers, and they wouldn't let me play in the gardens, or go for walks around the countryside. It's much nicer here".
He sat in thoughtful silence for a few minutes.
"Mr. Gulliver, I wonder if there is anything to eat left in the kitchen. I don't expect so, but I can go and see, can't I?" He leaped up and ran to the house, his feet lightly skimming the dewy grass. Five minutes later he returned dragging his heavy feet, the sunniness of his features dulled by bitter disappointment,
"It's all locked up. It's like me. It wants someone to fill it and care for it, like mummy did".
"I think I'll go for a walk, Mr. Gulliver. Perhaps I might find something to eat". A heavy sigh escaped his drooping lips as he listlessly turned and sauntered sadly away.
His weary feet dragged over the grass to the garden wall which he laboriously climbed. Onwards he went until he reached the cool, shallow stream and stood upon the rustic bridge, gazing into the eddying waters.
So he remained, dreaming of delightfully happy days gone by and of the depressingly saddened weeks of the last few months.
He then slowly descended from the bridge and knelt beside the stream. Cupping his grimy hands, he lifted cool water to his parched lips. Its coolness touched his fiery cheeks and with a sudden desire he rid himself of his hot, dusty clothes, and lay luxuriating in the kindness the water had bestowed on him.
Soon his burning body was cool and comfortable. The grimy dust was washed away and his swollen feet felt calm and normal again.
Feeling much better, he returned with lighter heart to Mr. Gulliver. On the return journey he found some mushrooms in the meadow, which he devoured hungrily.
The pleasantness of his beloved surroundings filled him once more with joy and exhilaration which his weakened little heart found so very hard to hold and conceal. How happy was the sunlit afternoon to him!
Towards evening he found some beautiful purple berries which made his hungry mouth water. He picked them and ate them on his way back to Mr. Gulliver.
Here he told Mr. Gulliver of all that had filled the happy day, of all his hopes, of all his sorrows and of his plans for the future.
As the sun sank again he joined in the birds' vespers, as on his knees he repeated the prayers his mother had taught him. "Now I lay me down to sleep, Pray the Lord His watch to keep".