<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2>
<h3>THE CARRIAGE CLOUD.</h3>
<p>"<span class="smcap">Good</span> evening to you all!" I said, as I stepped in at the nursery
window. "This is a night for a journey, if you please. All the
rough and unruly Winds are out of the way, for there is to be a
match to-night between the North-east wind and a Southern tornado,
to see which can blow the harder, and all their relations have gone to
look on. But our seven little friends have no liking for such rough
bear-play, and they are waiting outside, with a carriage-cloud which
will hold you all. So jump up, and call Nibble and Brighteyes. But
first, I must know why my Fluff has been crying. You must have
cried yourself to sleep, my mouse, and that will never do. Tell your
old Moonman what has happened, for I have been watching a battle
in Zululand all day, and have seen neither mice nor mouse-trap."</p>
<p>"We have had a very melancholy day, Mr. Moonman!" replied
Fluff, "Vashti Ann has been hanged, and it is a terrible thing to
hang your own child, even if Nibble does it for you." "Vashti Ann
hanged!" I exclaimed. "Dear! dear! how very distressing! what
had she done, pray, and how did it all happen?" "We don't think
she meant to do it," said Puff gravely; "but Nibble said she ought to
be hanged all the same. You see, we had just dressed the baby"—"and
she was Vashti Ann's <i>own</i> child!" Fluff broke in impressively.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs075.png" width-obs="377" height-obs="500" alt="FLUFF." title="" /> <span class="caption">FLUFF.</span></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs076.png" width-obs="352" height-obs="350" alt="Sewing" title="" /></div>
<p>"Please do not interrupt me, Fluffy!" said <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Pluffy'">Puffy</ins> with dignity.
"And we set her down in front of her mother, and told her to say
her lesson like a good baby, only she can't really say it, you know,
but we play she does. So then Fluffy went for a walk with the other
dolls, but I had to darn a hole in my stocking. Mrs. Posset is teaching
me to darn, and it is
my duty, but I don't like
my duty. So I was sitting
by the window, and
nobody was doing anything
at all, when suddenly
Vashti Ann fell
right down on the baby's
head and"—"and
killed her!" cried Fluff,
bursting into tears.
"Killed her all dead into
little pieces!" "How
very, very shocking!" I said. "And was the wretched mother hurt
herself?" "No!" answered Puff. "Her head was china, Mr.
Moonman, and the baby's was wax, you see." "I see!" said I.
"The brass pot and the earthen one!" "If you had ever seen Vashti
Ann, Mr. Moonman," said Fluff through her tears, "you would not
call her such names as a brass pot. Her hair was gossy as the raven's
wing, like the lady in the ballad that Uncle Jack read to us last night;
and I never wanted to call her Vashti Ann, but I wanted to call her
Isidora Vienna, but Uncle Jack said her name was Vashti Ann when<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</SPAN></span>
he buyed her, so I couldn't help it." And Fluff dried her eyes with the
end of the pillow-case, and looked very mournful. "Well! well!" I
said. "This is certainly very painful. So then you hanged Vashti
Ann?" "No, Nibble hanged her," said Fluff, "with a clothesline,
and it was a terribul scene, Uncle Jack said it was. And then we
buried them both together under a rose bush. We are going to have
a monument over them, but Nibble wants to put 'the Murdered and
the Murderess' on it, and I won't have it." "I certainly would not!"
said I. "But now you must call Nibble, and Brighteyes too, for the
little Winds are growing impatient, and we must be off. Dry your
eyes, little one, and think what a fine ride you are going to have!"</p>
<p>Nibble and Brighteyes were summoned; and in a few minutes all
the five mice were sitting comfortably in the very softest, fattest,
whitest cloud that the whole sky could produce. How it curled up
round their shoulders, and wrapped itself about them! and how they
did enjoy the luxurious softness! then the seven Winds puffed at it,
and away it went like a ball of thistledown through the air! "Where
shall we go, my pets?" I asked, as I rode along, beside them.
"You have the wide world to choose from, und shall go just where
you please." "I want to go to the North Pole, Mr. Moonman!"
cried Nibble. "You promised us to take us there, you remember,
the last time you came. I want to see the icebergs, and the white
bears, and all the wonderful things there are there!" "To the
North Pole it is, then!" I replied. "It is just the night for it, as all
the savage Winds are away."</p>
<p>So we flew northward, far and far away, over cities and hamlets,
over vast plains and shaggy forests. By the margin of a pond that<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</SPAN></span>
we passed a tall night-heron was standing on one leg. He looked up
at us, and was so much astonished that he toppled over and fell into
the water with a loud splash. How all the mice laughed, and the
merry Winds with them! all, that is, except my little Fluff, who
looked sad, and was still thinking of Vashti Ann. "Fluffy," I said,
"I must see you smile again. Shall I sing you a song that I heard
to-day?" "Yes, if you please, Mr. Moonman!" said Fluff meekly.
"It is a funny little song," I said.
"I heard an Irish mother singing
it to her baby. She was sitting by
the door of her cottage with the
baby in her lap, and she was paring
potatoes, and all the parings fell
into the baby's face, but he did not
seem to mind it at all, so I suppose
it was all right."</p>
<p><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class='center'> <table class="girls" summary="girls">
<tr><td align='left'><br/><br/>
Eight little gurrls wid their aprons on,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wint out to get some wather,</span><br/>
But niver a dhrop could be found at ahl,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By any mother's daughter.</span><br/>
<br/>
"Now well-a-day!" said the eight little gurrls,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"If we git no wather we shall die!"</span><br/>
"Oh! the very best way," said the eight little gurrls;<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Will be for us ahl to cry!"</span><br/>
<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/></td>
</tr></table></div>
<div class='poem'>
So they cried and cried, the eight little gurrls,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And they cried and they cried all day,</span><br/>
And when evening came, there was wather enough<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For to fill up the salt, salt say!</span><br/></div>
<p>Fluff laughed a little; and presently she said shyly, "I can sing a
song too, Mr. Moonman, if you would like to hear it. It is a song
about some dogs, and perhaps if you would learn it, you could sing it
to your dog when you get home." "Let us have the song, by all
means," I said. "My dog is very fond of music, and has himself a
powerful voice."</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs078.png" width-obs="450" height-obs="158" alt="Dogs" title="" /></div>
<p>So Fluffy sang her little song; and in case any of you children
should <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'liketo'">like to</ins> sing it for yourselves, I will write down the music as
well as the words.<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/music.png" width-obs="600" height-obs="838" alt="Music" title="" /></div>
<div class="center"><small>[<i>Transcriber's Note: You can play this music (MIDI file) by clicking</i> <SPAN href="music/carriagecloud.mid">here</SPAN>.]</small></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs079.png" width-obs="210" height-obs="350" alt="Trees" title="" /></div>
<p>"Bravo! Fluff," I said. "That is a good song, and they were
sensible little dogs. It is well to be sure about understanding a
thing before one attempts it, as Master Nibble would find out, if he
were once mounted on this frisky moonbeam, at which he is casting
such longing eyes." "It does look so delightful!" sighed Nibble.
"But after all, the cloud is delightful too, and I suppose I should be
cold if I were not wrapped up in it. How far north are we now, Mr.
Moonman?" "Somewhere near the coast of Labrador," I replied.
"Little Winds, lower the cloud a bit,
that the mice may see the fishing fleet.
The fishermen are all asleep, but the
boats are a pretty sight, when they can
be seen through the fog."</p>
<p>Lightly and softly the cloud floated
downward, and as they descended, the
merry Winds blew the wreaths of fog
away, so that we could see the bare
brown coast, and the hundreds of fishing-smacks
lying at anchor. Lights gleamed
at bow and stern. They danced about,
as the little vessels rocked gently on the
waves, which seemed to be half asleep, singing soft lullabies to each
other.</p>
<div class='poem'><br/>
"Ripple blue and ripple green,<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Foaming crest and silver sheen,</span><br/>
<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Sleep beneath the moon!</span><br/>
<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Till the daylight comes again,</span><br/>
<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Waking us to restless pain</span><br/>
<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">All too soon."</span><br/></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs080.png" width-obs="450" height-obs="424" alt="Fishermen" title="" /></div>
<p>"Yes," I said, "this is a holiday-time for the waves, and still more
for the fish. All day long the poor creatures have a hard time of it,
for hundreds and hundreds of skilful and eager fishermen are on the
look-out for them. But at night their only enemies are those who
live in the water, and I have heard that the whale and the swordfish
go to bed at ten o'clock regularly, and never stir from their trundle-beds
till six o'clock in the morning. I do not state that as a fact,
however, because I am not positively sure about it." "Dear me!"<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</SPAN></span>
said Brighteyes. "Just fancy a whale in a trundle-bed! how very
queer he would look!" "Does he spout when he's asleep?" inquired
Fluff anxiously. "Because the bedclothes would get wet, you
know, and he would take cold!"</p>
<p>Here, I am sorry to say, the other mice laughed, and Fluffy does not
like to be laughed at, so she was silent. Then said one of the seven
Winds, "I never saw any of them in bed, but I have seen their races,
and very funny they are. They have hurdle-races every Tuesday
afternoon, jumping over the fragments of wrecks which are strewn all
over the bottom of the sea. They lead a merry life, those whales;
what with hurdle-races and fish hunts and spouting matches. If one
could not live in the air, the next best thing would be to live in the
water, I think. Hi! yonder is a fleet of icebergs. Look, little
Heavyones! that is a sight worth seeing."</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs081.png" width-obs="450" height-obs="267" alt="Fish and whales" title="" /></div>
<p>Surely, it was very beautiful, though terrible. My silver beams<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</SPAN></span>
lighted up the huge masses of ice, till they looked like mountains of
crystal, moving slowly over the face of the water. The children
gazed at them, half frightened, half-admiring, and wrapped themselves
more closely in the warm, fleecy cloud. The icebergs formed
a huge circle, and midway in it the cloud floated, rocking like an airy
vessel as the Winds breathed softly on it. We were all silent for a
time: then Brighteyes asked in a half-whisper. "Is this the North
Pole, Mr. Moonman?" "Why, no, Brighteyes!" said Puff. "It
can't be the Pole, for there isn't any pole for it to be!" "Yes," I
said, "that is one way of putting it. We have not reached the North
Pole, my mice, and indeed I think we shall hardly go so far to-night,
for I see that these icebergs are waiting for the North Wind to blow
them home, and that is a sign that he will soon be here. He is a
disagreeable fellow, and might be rude to you, so we will fly over to
Greenland instead, and see some little friends of mine there. Will
that suit you just as well?" "Oh! yes," cried the five voices. "It
will be better, for we want to see what the people are like in these
strange places." So we floated low till we came to a certain small
Esquimaux village on the west of Greenland. "What are all those
queer humps of snow on the ground?" asked Fluff. "Oh!" cried
Nibble, clapping his hands. "<i>I</i> know! they are houses, for I have
seen pictures of them. See! there is smoke coming out of the top
of one. And now somebody is coming out of the doorway. Oh!
it is a bear, Mr. Moonman! do they have tame bears? And he is
brown, and I thought they were all white." "Gently, Nibble!" I
said, "your eyes are very sharp usually, but it is shocking that you
should not know a boy from a bear. That is Nayato, one of the<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</SPAN></span>
young friends of whom I spoke just now. There comes his brother
Kotchink, and the small figure creeping out of the next house is Polpo,
the friend and playmate of the two other boys. Now they will
have fine sport, for this is their play-time, and they are as fond of
play as any of you." The five mice leaned over the edge of the
cloud as far as they dared, and watched the Esquimaux boys with
breathless interest. They were queer little fellows, clad in furs from
head to foot, and were fat and oily-looking, as indeed anyone might<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</SPAN></span>
be who ate blubber three times a day: but otherwise they were
apparently much like boys all over the world. They chased each
other, and played hide-and-seek behind blocks of ice and snow, and
amused themselves in all kinds of ways. Their only playthings were
some bones of the seal and walrus, nicely polished, but they seemed
to have just as much fun with them as if they had been the finest
marbles or the most superlative tops that the world could produce.
"How jolly they look!" said Nibble. "I wish I could jump down
and play with them! and oh! don't they talk strangely, Brighteyes?
'Wogglety wagglety, chacka-chacka punksky'—what are they saying,
Mr. Moonman?"
"Nayato is telling Polpo
of the narrow escape
his father had
yesterday," I replied.
"It seems that he was
out on the flat ice
looking out for seals.
He had just harpooned
a fine fellow, and
was just on the point
of putting him on his
sledge, when he heard
a loud snuffling noise
behind him; and turning
round, saw to his
horror a huge white<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</SPAN></span>
bear, squatting on the ice within a few yards of him, and apparently
trying to decide whether the seal or the seal-hunter would make the
more savory meal. Wallop, however, (that is the man's name,) had
no doubt about the matter. He flung the seal towards his Polar
Majesty, and took to his heels, fortunately reaching his reindeer-sledge
in time to escape being made the second course of Bruin's
dinner. 'Chacka-chacka punksky' means 'I will kill that bear
when I am a man.'"</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs082.png" width-obs="440" height-obs="424" alt="Esquimaux" title="" /></div>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs083.png" width-obs="286" height-obs="375" alt="Polar bear" title="" /></div>
<p>"Oh! how exciting that must have been!" cried Nibble. "I
think I should like
to be an Esquimaux,
Mr. Moonman!
Couldn't you leave
me here for a week
or two?" "To live
in a snow hut, and
eat blubber and
drink train-oil?" I
asked in return.
"No, my mouse, I
could not, or at least
I would not. And
that reminds me that
we must be flying
home again, for
morning will soon
be here. Blow, little Winds, blow the cloud back as fast as you can."<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>How the seven little fellows puffed out their cheeks, and flapped
their wings! and how the cloud flew through the air! The mice
looked back regretfully, but the Esquimaux boys were already out of
sight. Southward and still southward we flew, the Winds striving
with might and main to keep up with my swift beam. Over land
and sea, mountain and valley, forest and meadow, till at last the
great linden trees around the Mouse-trap were shaking their heads at
us, and the tall chimneys pointed at us, and said, "look at those
children! they have been out all night, which is shocking. That
vagrant Moonman is teaching them the worst possible habits!"</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/gs084.png" width-obs="302" height-obs="375" alt="Scenery" title="" /></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</SPAN></span></p>
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