A
little forest of wild hyacinths was alive with exquisite
creatures, who stood nearly motionless, with drooping necks,
holding each by the stem of her flower, and swaying gently with
it, whenever a low breath of wind swung the crowded floral
belfry. In like manner, though differing of course in form and
meaning, stood a group of harebells, like little angels waiting,
ready, till they were wanted to go on some yet unknown message.
In darker nooks, by the mossy roots of the trees, or in little
tufts of grass, each dwelling in a globe of its own green light,
weaving a network of grass and its shadows, glowed the glowworms.
They were just like the glowworms of our own land, for they are
fairies everywhere; worms in the day, and glowworms at night,
when their own can appear, and they can be themselves to others
as well as themselves. But they had their enemies here. For I
saw great strong-armed beetles, hurrying about with most unwieldy
haste, awkward as elephant-calves, looking apparently for
glowworms; for the moment a beetle espied one, through what to it
was a forest of grass, or an underwood of moss, it pounced upon
it, and bore it away, in spite of its feeble resistance.
Wondering what their object could be, I watched one of the
beetles, and then I discovered a thing I could not account for.
But it is no use trying to account for things in Fairy Land; and
one who travels there soon learns to forget the very idea of
doing so, and takes everything as it comes; like a child, who,
being in a chronic condition of wonder, is surprised at nothing.
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