After that he curled himself up under the bear-skin rug, and though he determined to be the most wide-awake boy imaginable, being so exceedingly snug and warm and comfortable, Prince Dolor condescended to shut his eyes just for one minute. The next minute he was sound asleep.
When he awoke, he found himself floating over a country quite unlike anything he had ever seen before.
Yet it was nothing but what most of you children see every day and never notice it--a pretty country landscape, like England, Scotland, France, or any other land you choose to name.
It had no particular features--nothing in it grand or lovely--was simply pretty, nothing more; yet to Prince Dolor, who had never gone beyond his lonely tower and level plain, it appeared the most charming sight imaginable.
First, there was a river. It came tumbling down the hillside, frothing and foaming, playing at hide-and-seek among the rocks, then bursting out in noisy fun like a child, to bury itself in deep, still pools. Afterward it went steadily on for a while, like a good grown-up person, till it came to another big rock, where it misbehaved itself extremely. It turned into a cataract, and went tumbling over and over, after a fashion that made the prince--who had never seen water before, except in his bath or his drinking-cup--clap his hands with delight.
"It is so active, so alive! I like things active and alive!" cried he, and watched it shimmering and dancing, whirling and leaping, till, after a few windings and vagaries, it settled into a respectable stream. After that it went along, deep and quiet, but flowing steadily on, till it reached a large lake, into which it slipped and so ended its course.
All this the boy saw, either with his own naked eye or through his gold spectacles. He saw also as in a picture, beautiful but silent, many other things which struck him with wonder, especially a grove of trees.
Only think, to have lived to his age (which he himself did not know, as he did not know his own birthday) and never to have seen trees!
As he floated over these oaks, they seemed to him--trunk, branches, and leaves--the most curious sight imaginable.
"If I could only get nearer, so as to touch them," said he, and immediately the obedient cloak ducked down; Prince Dolor made a snatch at the topmost twig of the tallest tree, and caught a bunch of leaves in his hand.
Just a bunch of green leaves--such as we see in myriads; watching them bud, grow, fall, and then kicking them along on the ground as if they were worth nothing. Yet how wonderful they are--every one of them a little different.
I don't suppose you could ever find two leaves exactly alike in form, color, and size--no more than you could find two faces alike, or two characters exactly the same. The plan of this world is infinite similarity and yet infinite variety.
Prince Dolor examined his leaves with the greatest curiosity--and also a little caterpillar that he found walking over one of them. He coaxed it to take an additional walk over his finger, which it did with the greatest dignity and decorum, as if it, Mr. Caterpillar, were the most important individual in existence. It amused him for a long time; and when a sudden gust of wind blew it overboard, leaves and all, he felt quite disconsolate.
"Still there must be many live creatures in the world besides caterpillars. I should like to see a few of them."The cloak gave a little dip down, as if to say "All right, my Prince," and bore him across the oak forest to a long fertile valley--called in Scotland a strath and in England a weald, but what they call it in the tongue of Nomansland I do not know. It was made up of cornfields, pasturefields, lanes, hedges, brooks, and ponds.
Also, in it were what the prince desired to see --a quantity of living creatures, wild and tame.
Cows and horses, lambs and sheep, fed in the meadows; pigs and fowls walked about the farm-yards; and in lonelier places hares scudded, rabbits burrowed, and pheasants and partridges, with many other smaller birds, inhabited the fields and woods.
Through his wonderful spectacles the Prince could see everything; but, as I said, it was a silent picture; he was too high up to catch anything except a faint murmur, which only aroused his anxiety to hear more.
"I have as good as two pairs of eyes," he thought. "I wonder if my godmother would give me a second pair of ears."Scarcely had he spoken than he found lying on his lap the most curious little parcel, all done up in silvery paper. And it contained--what do you think? Actually a pair of silver ears, which, when he tried them on, fitted so exactly over his own that he hardly felt them, except for the difference they made in his hearing.
There is something which we listen to daily and never notice. I mean the sounds of the visible world, animate and inanimate. Winds blowing, waters flowing, trees stirring, insects whirring (dear me! I am quite unconsciously writing rhyme), with the various cries of birds and beasts,--lowing cattle, bleating sheep, grunting pigs, and cackling hens,--all the infinite discords that somehow or other make a beautiful harmony.
We hear this, and are so accustomed to it that we think nothing of it; but Prince Dolor, who had lived all his days in the dead silence of Hopeless Tower, heard it for the first time.
And oh! if you had seen his face.
He listened, listened, as if he could never have done listening. And he looked and looked, as if he could not gaze enough. Above all, the motion of the animals delighted him: cows walking, horses galloping, little lambs and calves running races across the meadows, were such a treat for him to watch--he that was always so quiet. But, these creatures having four legs, and he only two, the difference did not strike him painfully.
Still, by and by, after the fashion of children, --and I fear, of many big people too,--he began to want something more than he had, something fresh and new.
