There are 150 Large Paper 
 Copies only of this Book 
 Printed, of which this \7:)lume 
 IS No.
 
 THE UNiVtRSITY LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, SAN DIEGO 
 
 LA JOLLA, CALIFORNIA 
 
 CENTRAL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 University of Califoxiiia^_Sari Diego 
 
 Riuamia, ,>an 
 f 'Nk SuF\ 
 
 l/L/Og^ DATE DUE 
 
 n r c n 
 
 
 Q. 
 
 
 HAR^.8 1990 
 
 
 INTERLIBRARt LOA? 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 CI 39 
 
 UCSD Libr.

 
 DEDICATED TO THE 
 
 FIVE BOYS OF THE 
 
 FIRST RIVER 
 
 EXPEDITION. 
 
 
 A 2
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HOW THE OLD MONK WAS WISE TO BEGIN WITH. 
 
 " X^OOD luck have thou with thine honour: Ride on because 
 
 Vjf of the word of Truth, of meekness, of righteousness, and 
 thy right hand shall teach thee terrible things." 
 
 That was what the old monk was chanting in the forest. It wasn't 
 very clear but if } ou paid attention to the pauses of his sentences, 
 and to his deep voice as it rose and fell, you could catch everything 
 distincftly. 
 
 Willie had left his playmates, the other boys, and was wandering 
 alone by himself thinking of all the strange and great things that 
 might be in 'some day time' when the chant came upon him. He 
 held his breath and listened. After the old monk had finished he 
 went up to him and spoke. 
 
 " I want to be a great knight and do great things."' 
 
 " Well," said the old monk, " there isn't much of you to do it 
 with, and it will take you some years till you grow up, you know, 
 and by that time you'll have got through all your adventures." 
 
 " That's all very well," said Willie, " but one may as well begin 
 young if one wants to. Mayn't I begin young ? " 
 
 " That's for you to say," said the old monk. 
 
 " All right, I'll begin young. Tell me please, where can I get the 
 suit of yellow armour and the enchanted sword ? " 
 
 " Bless me ! " said the old monk " it would take two of you to 
 fit into the suit of yellow armour. Why, you're only an ell high." 
 
 " What does that matter. Let me try it on first and see, if it 
 doesn't tit me I'll put it back in the box, because, you see they 
 always start well in adventures, and who would set out in knicker- 
 bockers and cap and collar to walk through the enchanted wood ? 
 One must have something that shines, at least."
 
 b FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 "All right," said the old monk, "the princess Serenit}' shall dress 
 
 you." 
 
 "Thanks, I can dress myself; besides, I don't want to have 
 anything to do with princesses, in fad^, I don't believe in them, 
 but, but, please Mr. Monk innst there be princesses ? " 
 
 " That depends what you go for," said the old monk, " if you go 
 for princesses, you'll find them, if you don't, you won't." 
 
 " Very well, then I won't," said the boy, " I'll go for my friends." 
 
 " What friends ? " asked the monk. 
 
 " King Arthur and Sir Launcelot." 
 
 " Bless me ! " said the monk. " It'll take you a long time before 
 you find thon, besides they've quarrelled, and one broke faith with 
 the other." 
 
 " I don't believe it," said the boy, " I believe it was all a horrid 
 fib of someone, and if I catch that someone, I shall give him a good 
 lapping up. Anyway, I shall set off and try and find them, and get 
 them to make it up." 
 
 The old monk laughed. " It isn't so easy to get people to make 
 it up," he said. " Are you afraid of giants ? " 
 
 " I'm not sure," said the boy, "that depends on their size doesn't 
 it ? " 
 
 " Do you believe in giants ? " said the monk. 
 
 " Well I suppose I ought to, but I've never seen any." 
 
 " Do you think it necessary to see before you believe ? " said the 
 old monk. 
 
 " You shouldn't ask catchy questions," said the boy, " much 
 better help a fellow do his work ! Besides I want to begin." 
 
 So Willie put on the armour and lo ! it fitted him ! Why, he 
 couldn't make out, because as it had been the very suit made for 
 the Earl of Warwick in Edward the Third's reign, it was really much 
 too large for him. But somehow it fitted him and he girded on the 
 sword with the belt covered with gems and the cloak with the cross 
 upon it. His cap he kept, letting the end of it peep out under his 
 casque and thus equipped he went out to seek for his friends. 
 
 " Won't you say goodbye to me," said the old monk. 
 
 " Of course I will if you like," said the boy, "but won't you come 
 along with me ? "
 
 FROM WHiTECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 7 
 
 " No," said the old man, sadly, " I couldn't walk so sprinp^y as you. 
 But we're friends aren't we ? Do you know what friends are ? " 
 
 " Of course I do," said Willie. 
 
 "Then don't lose them," said the old monk. 
 
 " It isn't a question of losing them," said the boy, " it's a 
 question of finding them." 
 
 " Ah," said the old monk, and bent down his head in thought. 
 ■ Willie gave him his hand. The old monk looked at it, pressed 
 it, then drew it up slowly to his mouth, bent his shrivelled face over 
 it, and kissed it. 
 
 " Don't cry," said Willie. " 'Tisn't half like a man to cry. 
 Besides, we shall meet again." 
 
 " W^ould you really like us to meet again?" asked the old monk. 
 
 " I should just think so," said the boy. 
 
 " Then we shall," said the old monk. 
 
 " How ? " said Willie. " What's your call? Tell me, then I shall 
 know. Mine goes like this": — and tossing his head back he shouted 
 a double noted treble into the forest — " Huey ! huey ! huey ! huey ! " 
 that was how it sounded. " Now if you'll shout yours I shall know 
 when you are near." 
 
 " Mine's a wish," said the old monk. 
 
 " What's that ? " said the boy. 
 
 " If you wish for me at the cross roads I shall be handy. Do 
 you know how to wish ? " asked the old monk. 
 
 "I should jolly well think I did," said Willie. "But you can't 
 wish out loud, you can only wish inside, and that's not loud enough 
 to make a man hear." 
 
 " Well, if you wish for me inside, at the cross roads I shall be 
 handy. 
 
 " All right," said the boy, " I will." 
 
 " Goodbye then," said the old man, " and if you ever do get to 
 my time of life remember that friends are very scarce — very scarce," 
 the old man repeated, and, drawing his fingers through the boy's 
 hair as he pushed back his head, he kissed him on the forehead 
 and bade him adieu.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 TELLS HOW THE LITTLE LADY IN GREY CAME AND ASKED 
 
 MANY STRANGE THINGS. 
 
 AND so Willie went into the forest. It was all lovely pines at 
 first ; great tall trees just as you read of them in the German 
 fairy tales, and the scent of their barks was warm and 
 sweet. " It's very beautiful," thought Willie, " but it's sure not to 
 be a German fairy tale forest right through because I'm not a 
 German knight ; but no doubt other things will happen, we shall see ! " 
 
 He felt for his sword, it was there, his casque, his cloak. He 
 looked very fine, and he knew it. It was a coat of bright yellow 
 armour, splendidly greaved. The enchanted sword was jewelled at 
 the hilt with blue stones, and round his neck hung a chain of roses 
 and rings also of blue stones. The belt, too, was made of roses, 
 square roses, and the circular rings in between. When the sun 
 shone upon it, it all flashed ; in faft he looked like a bit of sunbeam 
 gone astray and walking about with a will of its own. 
 
 After a little while he heard the sound of horses and wheels, and 
 a carriage drove up. Inside sat the most charming little elderly 
 lady possible. She was all dressed in grey and her grey hair 
 sparkled in the light. Her face was beautifully cut, and she looked 
 all of a twinkle had it not been for the touch of sadness that lay on 
 her forehead. The little lady bowed to Willie and he gave her a 
 royal salute back. He was a little shy, because this was not the 
 sort of thing that he had expecfled. The little lady came to his 
 assistance. 
 
 " Very glad to meet you," she said, and she stretched her hand. 
 
 " So am I to meet you," said Willie. Then there was a pause. 
 " I beg your pardon for asking, but are you one of the great ladies 
 of society that one reads of in the papers. ? "
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. II 
 
 " No, I'm the little lady in grey," was the answer " and I'm very 
 particular whom I meet." 
 
 " But, you can't help meeting people," said Willie, doubtfully. 
 
 " (Juite so," said the lady, "but one needn't be introduced to 
 them, much less know them." 
 
 Willie didn't think he quite understood this, but it might seem 
 rude to ask, and so he stored it up to think it over later. 
 
 " And what is your name ? " asked the little lady. " Have you 
 got one." 
 
 " Of course I have," said Willie. 
 
 " W' hat is it then ? " 
 
 Willie told her. 
 
 " Oh, I don't mean that sort of name," said the little lady. " That 
 sort of name is a mere fluke. The names that people are christened 
 or called by, aren't real names, you know. They only have to have 
 thon for convenience. It was a mere fluke that you were christened 
 Wiflie, for instance." 
 
 " No, I was christened Willie after my grand dad," said the boy. 
 
 ** And what was he christened after ? " asked the little lady. 
 
 Willie didn't know. 
 
 " You see," she said " those sort of names are the merest chances. 
 You might have been christened Charley, or Frank or Walter, but 
 it wouldn't have made any difference to you, would it now ? People 
 and their names are quite separate really, though they don't think 
 so. The only true names are the names I give them. Let me see," 
 she said, " What name shall I give you ? " 
 
 She thought for a minute, and then said, " Suppose I call you Sir 
 Percival. Do you think you could wear the name of Sir Percival." 
 
 Willie just thought he could. It was such a fine one, besides he 
 knew Sir Percival was one of King Arthur's knights. 
 
 " It all depends," she said smartly, reading his thoughts, "it all 
 depends. If you can do as Sir Percival did, I'll let you bear his 
 name, if not, you'll lose it." 
 
 " Tell me what to do to keep it," said Willie. 
 
 " Sir Percival was one of the few of Arthur's knights who saw 
 the Holy Grail," saitl the little lady, " and he saw it because he kept
 
 12 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 himself quite pure and quite true. If you'll do likewise you may 
 bear his name," 
 
 "Thank you," said Willie. ''Thank you. I will. I'll keep it 
 always, at least" — for the little lady was looking at him hard — "at 
 least, I'll try to. Please tell me," he said, "as you've thought fit 
 to give me so great a name, do you think I shall be able to keep it 
 always ? " 
 
 To this the little lady in grey said nothing, but though she said 
 nothing it was quite evident that she felt something, for all her 
 countenance changed, and the sad little wrinkles were drawn upon 
 her forehead, and her eyes looked far away, like one who has the 
 power to see through a world that has been, and on into a world 
 that might have been. Then in a dreamy way she asked Willie the 
 question, 
 
 " Are you fond of sweet music ? " 
 
 " Rather," said Willie, " do you know many tunes ? " 
 
 " Rather," laughed the lady in grey, repeating the tone of the 
 boy's voice, " and I'll teach you some if you like." 
 
 "Do!" said W^illie. 
 
 So she took him by the hand and they went through the forest 
 together. It was lovely : and the strangest things happened as they 
 went. Everything seemed to bow to her, and everything as it bowed 
 whispered musically. The trees bowed, and the bracken and the 
 long grass. And then the little lady began to hum a tune ; such a 
 strange tune, it didn't seem to have any proper beginning or end, it 
 just went on ; but as it went on, the bees and the inse(5ts joined in, 
 and as it grew louder the birds joined in, and took it up in chorus, 
 and then the trees grew musical, and their big branches bent gently 
 up and down, and they joined in. As Willie and the little lady went 
 on everything they passed first made a reverent bow to her and then 
 joined in. They passed a stream, and as soon as the little lady 
 smiled at it singing, it all lit up with sunlight, glittered in its ripples 
 and joined in. And the big willow herbs and wild geraniums that 
 grew at its side, caught up the light in their coloured breasts, bowed 
 and joined in, and it wasn't long before everything all around, sun 
 and light, and shade, and flowers and trees, leaves, and grass, birds.
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 13 
 
 bees and butterflies and all the glittering things that pass by you 
 for a moment and then vanish, joined in and sang. All nature, 
 everything from highest to lowest was singing. 
 
 Then the lady made him sit down by her side, and bade him 
 listen. 
 
 " You see," she said, "it doesn't take much to set them off, as 
 they have got it in them already. Now, try and remember what 
 they sing, and you'll learn how to sing all the sweetest tunes possible. 
 That's what the great musicians do, they just listen and learn, and 
 then one fine day they start singing themselves, without knowing 
 why, and make music for other people. And that's what God does 
 when He wants to do anything new or create anything new : — He 
 just sits still first, listens, and then it comes ; He does it all by 
 music in this way ; Everything is like a great tune to Him, and He 
 moves and creates everything with music. See ! see ! " she cried. 
 
 Willie looked, and saw four dandylion seeds floating along 
 together. " The music has set them going," said the little lady. 
 
 The four dandylion seeds made their bow to her, then rested for 
 a minute on a grass blade ; then the blade rocked and the four seeds 
 floated off. Then one of the four unlinked itself from the other 
 three, floated away into a shady corner of the grass and vanished. 
 
 The three others rose up into the air again, looking like tin}- gold 
 feathers with the sun through them and danced to the music, till 
 another of the three left, floated alone by itself for awhile and then 
 nestled away somewhere out of sight. 
 
 " Each with a will of its own you see," said the little lady. 
 
 Then the two that were left went on singing by themselves for a 
 bit, like two friends together in life and wandering about the world 
 together, and there came a breath of singing wind, the merest 
 breath, and they were parted. 
 
 " I'm for the sun," sang one seed, and up it shot into a stream of 
 sunlight, and " I'm for the clouds," sighed the other, and off it 
 floated into another dired^ion. 
 
 " That's how they all go," said the little lady, " and it's the music 
 that sets them all going." 
 
 " Why did they bow to you ? " asked Willie. '* And why does 
 everything bow to you ? "
 
 14 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 " Because I give them their ideas," said the Httle lady, " they all 
 come to me for ideas ? " 
 
 " For what ? " asked Willie. 
 
 " For ideas," she said, laughing, " would you like an idea ? " 
 
 " Please, I don't think I quite understand you," said Willie. 
 
 '' Well," said the little lady. " It isn't a thing you can touch or 
 eat or see. It comes and goes and has a way of its own, and some- 
 times it seizes hold of you, and carries you along with it, and some- 
 times it drops you in the mud ; and then it says to you, ' now get 
 3'ourself out of your difficulties and when you're out I'll come to 
 you again,' and then it waits and watches to see what you're made of." 
 
 " Aren't they rather dangerous things ? " said Willie. 
 
 " Well, yes, they are," said the little lady " and they're apt to run 
 off the lines like railway trains ; but if there were'nt an}- about, 
 everything would be like a big pulp, and only just exist, you see, in 
 fa(ft nothing would happen at all," she said. 
 
 " Oh I shouldn't like that," said WiUie, "That would be dull; 
 please may I have an idea ? " 
 
 " That depends what you give me for it," she said rather archly. 
 
 Willie made a calculation in his head as to what it would be the 
 correct thing to offer, felt in his pocket, found he had one-and- 
 threepence, thought again, and then said, rather cautiously, 
 
 " If you please could you tell me how much about it would be ? " 
 
 "Ah," said the little lady, and she laughed right out. " Now you 
 talk like Mr. Simon Magus, that will never do." 
 
 Willie forgot who Mr. Simon Magus was, though he thought he 
 recolle(5led having seen his name over a shop in Whitechapel. 
 Anyway, he had made a great mistake, and he looked it. Then he 
 looked at the little lady, as much as to say so, with a please-help- 
 me-out look ; and being a kind little lady, and always ready to help 
 anybody who looked thus, she drew his hand into hers and said. 
 
 " I'll try to. Can you reason ? " 
 
 '' No," said the boy, for he thought that was the safest thing to 
 say under the circumstances. 
 
 " No more can I," said the little lady, " and, therefore, we shall be 
 able to find out the truth together. Now who do you think I am."
 
 FROM WHITECHAPIiL TO CAMELOT. I5 
 
 " You said you were the little lady in grey," said Willie, and he 
 began to get quite bewildered. 
 
 "Yes," said she, " and more than that I'm the mother of your 
 two friends." 
 
 Willie looked incredulous, that couldn't be, he thought, because 
 they weren't brothers. 
 
 " I'm the mother of everybody who's a hero," said the little lady, 
 quietly. 
 
 " Then oh — " said Willie rather awestruck, " if you please will 
 
 you-" 
 
 She cut him short. " They are your heros, are they not ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Willie. 
 
 "That's quite enough for me, then they're my sons? " 
 
 Willie didn't quite follow this nor did he see how relationships 
 could be made so easily as all that, but he felt that he was in a 
 world where all things were possible, and so he waited to hear what 
 might be told him next, besides he had been taught that if }ou 
 only believed hard enough things came true, but he doubted this a 
 little. 
 
 Then the little lady asked him an awfully hard question. 
 
 " What is the difference between a man who is a hero and a man 
 tries to be one ? " 
 
 W^illie thought a minute and then feeling quite sure of the answer 
 said rather disdainfully. 
 
 " Why every difference, the man is a hero has done all his 
 adventures, and become one, while the other fellow hasn't got 
 through yet." 
 
 " You're quite wrong," said the little lady. " The other fellow as 
 you call him, is the real hero, and the man who is a hero may or 
 may not be a hero after all." 
 
 " I don't see that," said Willie " because who's to say when a 
 man's a hero and when he isn't ? " 
 
 " Who's to say when you've passed the sixth standard and when 
 you haven't ? " 
 
 " The examiners," said Willie, promptly, he was quite sure about 
 that."
 
 1 6 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 " Wrong again," said the little lady, " because you might have 
 passed through it though your papers mightn't. It's a very curious 
 fact that, but it is so, none the less. Now we want to find out the 
 truth, don't we ? And we neither of us can reason, can we ? And 
 you've asked me for an idea, haven't you ? and so I'll just put you 
 one question more. Why are you going in search of your friends? " 
 
 " Because I love them very much and want to find them," said 
 the boy simpl}-. 
 
 " I thought I wanted to," he added, "and there was just a wee 
 bit of pride in the way he said it. " I thought it was a good idea, 
 and so I went."" 
 
 " It was I who gave you that idea," said the little lady, "that 
 was the idea I sent you." 
 
 This was too much, and Willie felt very small and humbled. Like 
 one of the great knights of old he knelt down before her and then 
 without knowing what he was saying or why he said it, he cried to 
 her, " Let me try to be your son too." 
 
 The little lady looked at him very sweetly, kissed him on the 
 forehead and whispered into his ear, 
 
 " You too are my son, go }our ways and win, and we shall meet 
 again." 
 
 f^
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 TELLS HOW THERE WAS A HORRID LITTLE BLACK DEMON ALSO. 
 
 SO Willie went his ways, and he felt he'd never been so happy all 
 his life. The sun was shining and he began singing. He 
 knew that Sir Launcelot used to sing " 'tira lira' " when he was 
 happy, but as he did'nt get very far with that, he sang the Vicar of 
 Bray, and the Marseillaise and a little tune of Queen Elizabeth's 
 time that his friends had taught him, and then some of the strange 
 tunes that he seemed to have picked up from the little lady came to 
 him ; any way he was very happy. 
 
 Oh 'tis good to walk through the bracken four feet high, with 
 the sun shining through the forest, and you feeling yourself a 
 part of all around you. You belong to it, and it belongs to you. 
 And then the trees with their great arms rocking to you and bless- 
 ing you. 
 
 Suddenly he saw the boughs swing, and something black hanging 
 on them threatening to impede his passage. He looked, and it was 
 a little black demon with red and green eyes. A horrid little brute. 
 Like a Japanese lacquer figure curled up and leering. 
 
 " What are you doing up there ? " said Willie, who thought it his 
 duty to interfere in a case of this sort. 
 
 " What are you doing down there ? " said the demon. 
 
 "That's no business of yours," said Willie. 
 
 " Oh, yes it is," said the demon. 
 
 " Who are you ? " said Willie, 
 
 " You ? " answered the demon. 
 
 " Don't you try and cheek me," said Willie, " or you'll get the 
 worst of it."
 
 l8 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 " Boo, boo, boo," said the demon, and he swung himself saucily 
 on the bough. " I'm just as big as you, Fm just as strong as you, 
 and I can talk just as tall as you. The only difference is that you're 
 yellow and Fm black; besides I know more about you than you 
 think. I know what's inside you, and that's more than you know 
 of me." 
 
 Willie scarce knew whether to be offended or amused at this, he 
 thought for a minute, and then determined to be amused. Besides 
 there was something in the little black demon that looked friendly 
 and sociable like, and he seemed to recognise his face. Indeed, he 
 felt almost inclined to shake hands with him and become pals, but 
 but he was so black and ugly. 
 
 " How do you know what is inside me ? " asked Willie, " What is 
 inside me, then ? " 
 
 " / am," said the demon, " sometimes." 
 
 " Why you said just now you were as big as me." 
 
 " Oh, I can sqeeze myself very small," said the demon. *' And 
 oh, it's such fun you know, I can make people think that they 
 haven't got me in them at all, when all the time I'm sitting in the 
 corner of their hearts, hammering in nails, tightening them up as 
 hard as I can. Bah ! " said the demon, " I hate a soft heart, it's so 
 bulgey." 
 
 " Then you belong to other people besides me," said Willie. 
 
 " Oh dear no," said the demon. " I don't belong to anybody, and 
 I don't own anybody, except everybody who is anybody in particular. 
 Do you understand me ? " asked the demon. 
 
 " Not quite," said Willie guardedly, because he wasn't sure if the 
 demon was trying to make a fool of him. 
 
 " Well then, never mind about the other people," said the demon, 
 " but consider yourself only, in so far as you are you, you belong to 
 me," Now do you see it ? 
 
 " I like that," Willie pouted defiantly. " It's for me to say whom 
 I belong to, I should think." 
 
 The demon chuckled at this, and all he said was " tall, tall, tall," 
 and wriggled himself on the bough. 
 
 " If you're such an important person that you know what's inside 
 people, I suppose you don't mind telling me your name." 
 
 B 2
 
 1
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 21 
 
 " It's not a bit of use my telling you my name," said the demon. 
 " It's a very long one and you'd forget it, and it's hard to pronounce." 
 
 " Is it a Japanese name ? " asked Willie. 
 
 " Not exactly," said the demon. " Though I've no doubt they 
 have it there too. Have you visited Japan ? " said the demon 
 turning the conversation. 
 
 " No," said Willie. " But I've seen pictures of you in the British 
 Museum by Japanese artists, and so I thought you came from 
 there." 
 
 "No," said the demon, lofitily. "No, not necessarily, I have sat 
 for a nitchkie before now, but you know," and he said this with a 
 bewitching society smile, " artists are such imaginative people and 
 take liberties with your personality," and he waved his hand grandly. 
 
 " Well, now, out with it," said Willie. " Who are you, because 
 I want to be getting on, and I can't stay here all day ? " 
 
 " Reflex Personality Esquire," said the demon, magnificently, 
 "and you'll find me rather harder to get rid of than you think, 
 good day." 
 
 And the demon was gone. 
 
 Willie went on through the forest. 
 
 " That was not as nice an adventure as some," he said to himself. 
 " How horrid ! it makes one feel quite creepy, I wonder where the 
 little beast is now." And then he went on thinking, and then his 
 thoughts answered him, and they said, " no doubt, no doubt you do, 
 no doubt, no doubt ; tall ! tall ! tall ! " 
 
 d^
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 TELLS HOW THE GREAT GIANT GRUMBOLD WANTED SOMETHING 
 
 QUITE UNREASONABLE. 
 
 WILLIE wandered on and soon he came to a hilly part of the 
 forest. Up hill and down dale, then he came to some 
 cross roads, and at their meeting was a sign post. 
 
 "Which way should I go now?" he thought; then he remem- 
 bered the old monk said if he wished for him at the Cross Roads 
 he would come and help. " But no," thought Willie, " it's rather early 
 in the day to ask for help. Til try and do it by myself a bit first." 
 Then he looked at the sign post, and one hand had this written on 
 it, " To the Mountain of Facts." " That is sure to be my way," 
 said Willie, " and I shall find my friends there." 
 
 It wasn't long before he came to the foot of the mountain and he 
 girt himself up for the ascent. It was rather heavy walking, and 
 they didn't seem to keep the roads very well in these parts, lots of 
 loose stones and boulders. It was evident that the little lady in 
 grey didn't drive about much here. 
 
 Up he went, however, along the mountain side, when he came to 
 something that looked like a house, a large house, at the roadside. 
 As the door was ajar Willie peeped in and saw a room that he 
 thought he knew, only it was so much larger. But in the room was 
 a strange sight indeed. "A giant, a very giant at last," thought 
 Willie. " And yet I've seen that old fellow before in Stratford, what 
 a beastly brute he looks, though, when you see him all by himself, 
 and I'd no notion he was this size. Why what on earth is he 
 doing?"
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 25 
 
 Willie peeped through the door into the giant's house. He looked 
 and listened. 
 
 There sat Giant Grumbold, the workman, his pipe in his mouth, 
 and a pot of beer by his side. He looked very lazy and yet not too 
 lazy to growl and snarl at himself. "He's not very particular about 
 his dress, either, the dirty fellow," thought Willie, "and as for his 
 tools, I should like to know how he's ever to do a respectable day's 
 work if he keeps them in that condition, why all the edges of the 
 planes must be blunted in that sack of his." But Grumbold didn't 
 seem to mind about his tools. Dirt\- he was, certainly, " but if he's 
 been at work that don't matter," though Willie, "anyway." 
 
 Grumbold wore his bowler on the back of his head, and had on a 
 rather shabby frock coat, while round his neck was a mottled red 
 cloth. As for his boots and trousers it was quite certain he hadn't 
 cleaned them for a week. " I can't think how^ anyone would give 
 him a job in that condition at all, but I have seen him more respec- 
 table than this," said WilHe to himself. " I'll say that for him." 
 
 But what on earth was he doing. It was strange indeed. In 
 front of Giant Grumbold was a big pie, and in it a knife and fork. 
 Every now and then he would make an effort to cut himself a bit 
 of the pie and taste it, and then as soon as he had got half way, he 
 got very angry with himself for doing it, and threw the knife and 
 fork aside again. 
 
 Omitting the ornamental oaths, and the short but improper 
 adjectives that came in front of the nouns without any apparent 
 connection, this was the sort of conversation that Grumbold was 
 holding with himself : 
 
 " I will have it," and he stuck the knife in. " When a man's 
 hungry he's got to eat,'' and so saying he took a long swig from his 
 mug. " Didn't I say I was going to save it for a/teyicanis," and then 
 he cursed himself and looked as if he wanted to eat himself up 
 rather than the pie. "Get along —yer — yer — ycr/' "What's the 
 use of having the thing here when it's got to be eaten,'' he said, and 
 then he made another lunge at the pie, then he stamped and looked 
 at the fork, and then he cursed the fork horribly, " No, I -icoji't eat 
 you, there — take that," and then he kicked the pie.
 
 26 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 " He seems to think he's doing the pie a favour by not eating it," 
 thought WilHe, " I wonder if the pie minds." 
 
 The pie evidently didn't mind, because the string of curses that 
 followed upon this rupture between the pie and himself was perfectly 
 dreadful and the pie took no notice. 
 
 " It's the knife," growled Grumbold. 
 
 " No it's not," said Willie, half out loud, "The knife's got nothing 
 to do with it." 
 
 Then Grumbold growled again and gave himself a thump on the 
 head. " Come now, that's better," thought Willie. " If he'll only 
 go on finding fault with himself and not with his tools he may get a 
 little more reasonable." 
 
 But he didn't, he got more unreasonable ; he stood up and 
 groaned, and then he sat down and groaned, and then he said it 
 wasn't fair, and then he got up and walked about, and then he made 
 another dig at the pie, and then he put the pie into the cupboard, 
 locked it, and threw away the key, and then he grew furious at 
 having done this, swore he would eat the pie for what anybody said 
 to him, took a great crowbar out of his tool bag and broke open the 
 cupboard. " Poor chap," thought Willie, " he really does not seem 
 to know what he wants, but if he's as bad as this when he's sober, 
 what must he be Hke when he's drunk. Perhaps he's under a spell, 
 that's an idea now, let's see if I can help him," and so saying 
 Willie pushed open the door and entered the room. 
 
 " Good day, sir, can I do anything for you," asked Willie. " You 
 seem in trouble." 
 
 "Who are you?" said Grumbold, looking down on the small 
 knight in coloured armour who stood on the threshold before him. 
 " Can't you leave a poor fellow alone ? " 
 
 " I've seen you in Stratford, Mr. Grumbold, I recognised you by 
 your red whiskers, and as you seemed in trouble I thought I might 
 help." 
 
 " Yes," said Grumbold, " have you got a shilling 'dhout yer ? " 
 
 " A shilling won't help him much," thought Willie, " but if that's 
 really all he wants to get him out of his trouble, he may as well
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 27 
 
 have it. Let me see," he felt in his pocket, found he had one and 
 threepence, and handed Grumbold the shiUing. Grumbold took it, 
 looked at it, and then swore. 
 
 " What's the good of giving a man a shilling when they take from 
 him home and comforts, they live on the blood and sorrow of the 
 working man they do, and then they offer him a shilling ! " 
 
 " Well, I only did what you asked me," said Willie. 
 
 " Look here," said Grumbold, " I'll tell you what I shall do," and 
 Grumbold shook his head with determination, " I shall strike!'' 
 
 "That's an idea now," said Willie. "They often win in strikes. 
 I've done picketing in a strike before now. I'll help you if you like. 
 Who's the company ? " asked Willie, for he was up in those things. 
 
 " Dearn the company ! " said Grumbold, " what I'm thinking of 
 is the pie." 
 
 " You've got the pie," said Willie, " it's no use striking for it." 
 
 " What's the good of having the pie when I've no appetite to 
 eat it ! " 
 
 " That's true," said Willie, " but then you could save it till 
 you have." 
 
 " What's the use of saving a thing that's intended to be eaten ! " 
 
 " Won't it keep ? " asked Willie. 
 
 " Of course it will keep," said the workman, " but think of the 
 trouble and expense of keeping it. Haven't I got my rent to pay?" 
 
 " I suppose you have," said Willie. " But everybody's got to do 
 that, however unpleasant it is." 
 
 " Unearned inkriment, that's what I call it," said Grumbold. 
 " Unearned inkriment, and it isn't fair on a fellow to make him 
 want to have his pie and make him want to eat it too." 
 
 " I think you're rather an unreasonable chap, Mr. Grumbold, if 
 you don't mind my saying so." 
 
 Grumbold grew very red at this, and his eyes regularly bulged out 
 of his head. " Look here," he said," if you ever say that again to 
 a man of my position, a respectable working man, who has as much 
 as he can do to keep house and home together, let alone rent and 
 rates and taxes, and you a young shaver, who has nothing better to 
 do than go loafing about the world like a blooming cheese-cake, if
 
 28 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 you hever say that again," and here Grumbold piled on the H's, 
 " I'll, I'll, I'll give you such a basting that you won't forget in a 
 hurry — to say that to me — too — me, a cove as ought to be endowed 
 
 bv the state, me ! mind if you hever say that again, I'll, I'll, I'll " 
 
 and therewith shaking his great pipe at Willie, he strode away out of 
 the house in a towering rage.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 TELLS HOW MK. PUSHING ON, ^LI^. TURNED UP AND WHAT 
 
 HIS VIEWS WERE. 
 
 WHEN the giant was fairly gone Willie went on his way. " I 
 quite forgot to ask him if he'd seen King Arthur and Sir 
 Launcelot," he said to himself, "and 9S he seemed to live 
 about here, and must have seen them pass he might have known, 
 but I don't know- though, he seemed so taken up with his own 
 concerns, that he probably wouldn't have known. No, I believe 
 he's an old brute," said Willie, " that he is." 
 
 Up the high road of the mountain of Fadls went A\'illie. It was 
 rather hard and rather hot, and he wished he were coming to the 
 end of it. " I've got to get over it though, I suppose," and so he 
 trudged on his way pluckily, till he came to a cross road and then 
 feeling very lonesome and tired he set to and wished for the old 
 monk. 
 
 The old man was as good as his word, for, hardly was the wish 
 accomplished when he appeared, staff in hand at the corner of the 
 road, chanting his psalm. " Ride on in the word of truth," — 
 
 " How did }'OU get up this great big hill ? " asked Willie. 
 
 '■ I have ways of my own,*' was the answer, " not known to 
 other folk. A sort of private right of way." 
 
 "Will you show it to me ? " 
 
 The old Monk laughed. " No," said he, " no, that's a thing 
 every man must find for himself. Do you know that it's the correct 
 thing for people who want to get the other side to walk up the 
 mountain of Facfls by themselves." 
 
 " Wouldn't it save a great deal of labour if they were to tunnel 
 the mountain ? " asked Willie,
 
 30 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 " Oh, no doubt, and that's what some of the engineers and men 
 of science are always trying to do, but it's very funny they always 
 get wrong in their calculations and have to begin over again." 
 
 " What a poor set of crocks they must be here," said Willie 
 rather contemptuously, " Why don't they put a London man on 
 the job, he'd do it." 
 
 " Might be," said the old monk, " but he'd be a very clever fellow 
 if he did do it. How are you getting on, laddie, you want me to 
 help you ? '' 
 
 " W^ell," said Willie, not exacftly liking to own it, " I'm rather 
 tired and want to be at the top, and I thought you were the sort of 
 chap, who might give a fellow a hint." 
 
 " Well, I will," said the old monk. " The secret of this mountain 
 is, that everything is double on it. The stones are double, and the 
 trees are double, and the people you meet on it, double. You see 
 it's the mountain of facets, and every faft is double, that is to say it 
 has its side that you can see and its side that you canH see. And as 
 soon as you quite get to understand this you'll find that every step 
 you take up the hill is double as big as you thought it was, and so 
 you get up to the top in half the time." 
 
 Willie didn't think he understood it at all, but the old monk was 
 a wise old fellow so he made up his mind to try and understand, or 
 at least have a good look at the stones and things as he went along 
 to see if he couldn't save himself a bit of journey. 
 
 " That's all I have to say now," said the monk, " good-bye." 
 And off he went, slowly, down the hill, chanting to himself. Willie 
 went on his way again a little brighter perhaps, at having something 
 new to think over, and looking about him at everything by the 
 wayside. He hadn't gone far when a gentleman in a tall hat and a 
 long frock coat came hurrying down the mountain road. 
 
 " Good day," said the gentleman, in the tall hat, " I'm glad to 
 see you. My name is Mr. Pushington, I live in Kensington and I'm 
 a member of Parliament." 
 
 Willie remembered driving through Kensington sometimes, on an 
 omnibus, a place with big red houses, but rather formal, and there 
 were no Italian ice grinders in the summer and no chestnut hawkers
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 3I 
 
 in the winter, and that made it dull, but he didn't remember that 
 he had ever seen Mr. Pushin^ton. People in frock coats and top 
 hats were very much alike, unless you happened to know them well. 
 However, the man seemed friendly and so Willie offered him his 
 hand. 
 
 " I'm in a great hurry," said Mr. Pushington, " I always am, but 
 I must stop to have a chat with you." 
 
 " Come now, that's kind of him," thought Willie. 
 
 " It's one of my principles in life, never to let an opportunity go 
 by," said Mr. Pushington. Why he, Willie, should be one of Mr. 
 Pushington's opportunities, didn't seem quite clear but doubtless 
 things would explain themselves. But why shouldn't he turn the 
 tables and make one of Mr. Pushington. 
 
 " Can you help me to find my friends. King Arthur, and Sir 
 Launcelot ? " said Willie. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Pushington drily, " I don't think you'd care 
 for them much from me, I only keep them bound." 
 
 " What, keep them bound ! — in a dungeon ? " and Willie was 
 martial at once, at the thought of a possible rescue. 
 
 " Dear me, no," said Mr. Pushington. " In a book, of course — 
 in a book with gilt edges and morocco leather. I like to see ever\'- 
 thing in its place, and there worth a good binding don't you think?" 
 
 " I don't mean like that," said Willie. " I mean the real men." 
 
 "Oh, I see," said Mr. Pushington. "Of course, I beg your 
 pardon. I forgot that there were 700 years between you and me. 
 I might have seen that by your costume. However, I take no count 
 of time and space, I live in the nineteenth centun.-, and deal in 
 telegraphs and steam engines." 
 
 " Then perhaps you're a manufacturer ? " 
 
 " That's exactly what I am," said Mr. Pushington. " The whole 
 world is my big machine and I move it." 
 
 This seemed to Willie rather a large order, even for a big manu- 
 facturer, and he looked a bit incredulous. 
 
 " Oh you needn't shake your head," said Mr. Pushington, " perhaps 
 you'd like me to convince you. Look here," and Mr. Pushington 
 opened a little black bag that he carried, and fetched out a long
 
 32 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 parti-coloured tube, with glass at both ends, but smaller at the end 
 where you put your eye. On the outside was painted, " P. Pushing- 
 ton " and "A present for a good boy. International Exhibition, 
 1851." 
 
 " Hold it up to your eye and click it round by degress," said Mr. 
 Pushington. Willie did so, and what a strange and wonderful thing 
 it was when you looked through it. First there were thousands of 
 bits of glass set into patterns, then he turned it with a click, and 
 the thousand bits of glass changed into a thousand great cities, each 
 seeming to smoke and flash fire and vapours from itself, then another 
 click and Willie's vision became clearer, he still saw all the great 
 cities, but he saw what was going on in them, too. Thousands of 
 men and women, hurrying to and fro with great instruments and 
 tools, hammering, sawing, banging, filing, planing, and moving 
 great machines up and down, up and down, and turning steam 
 whistles off and on. But though he looked very carefully, no result 
 seemed to come of it all. 
 
 " Isn't that lovely ?" said Mr. Pushington. "You're at a most 
 interesting part of it now." Willie clicked again, and all the cities 
 changed into ships, and each ship was laden with bales full of 
 rubbish, and steaming over a great ocean ; then another click, and 
 the thousand ships turned into a thousand shorthand clerks, 
 scribbling away notes for dear life. 
 
 " Have you got to the press representatives? "asked Mr. Pushington, 
 excitedly. " Aren't they awfully nice, don't you think? " 
 
 Willie clicked again, and then he seemed to see bits of ships, and 
 bits of shorthand writers, and bits of cities, and bits of work shops ; 
 and each bit had a string tied to it, and a man in the background 
 was jerking them up and down. 
 
 " Who is it ? " said Willie. 
 
 " Click again, and see," said Mr. Pushington, and Willie clicked. 
 
 "Why, it's you," said Willie. But before he had time to look at 
 the smile of pathetic benevolence that lit Mr. Pushington's face, the 
 kaleidescope gave another click, and Willie cried out, " Why, it's 
 Giant Grumbold ! "
 
 FROM WIIITF.CHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 33 
 
 " Dear, dear," said Mr. Piishington, "there must be some mistake, 
 give it to me." And, taking the kaleidescope, he looked through it, 
 dicked it round several times, put it in his bag quickly, and changed 
 the subject. 
 
 " Do you play games ? " he asked. 
 
 ".Don't I just," said Willie. " I^ut I like them best when there 
 are sides, and lots of chaps join in." 
 
 " So do I," said Mr. Pushington, " how odd." 
 
 Willie looked at Mr. Pushington and thought to himself, " Well, 
 he wouldn't be able to run far, in that hat."" lUit it wouldn't have 
 been a polite thing to say, so he asked him, '' \\'hat's your favourite 
 game ? " 
 
 " Politics," said Mr. Pushington. 
 
 " Easy there," said Willie, " don't you try and best me. I know 
 what politics are." 
 
 " Do you, though," said Mr. Pushington. " That's more than I 
 do. Politics has sides like any other game, hasn't it ? " 
 
 " All right," said Willie. " Which side are you on ? " 
 
 " Both," said Mr. Pushington. 
 
 " How can you be on both sides of the game at once? And what 
 if there be more than two sides, there now ? " said Willie, not to 
 be done. "Are you Tory, or Liberal, or Radical, or Socialist ? 
 
 " Pm a philosophical mugwump," said Mr. Pushington, calmly. 
 
 " What's that ? '" said Willie. 
 
 " You shouldn't ask such embarrassing questions. It's not good 
 manners to ask questions like that of politicians, except — except 
 when they're on platforms," added Mr. Pushington. 
 
 " Sorry," said Willie. " I didn't mean any offence, but may 
 I know why ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said Mr. Pushington. " The reason's obvious. It's 
 because we're all such humbugs." 
 
 " Is every politician a humbug? " asked Willie. 
 
 "Certainly," said Mr. Pushington, "that's one of the rules of the 
 game." 
 
 " Then what's the game for? " asked Willie.
 
 34 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 " Don't vou even know that ?" said Mr. Pus-hington. " I thought 
 every EngHsh boy knew that. And to think of your get-up, too — 
 whv, to make laws for the country, of course, and to talk about 
 things." 
 
 " Yes, but ifs wise talk," said Willie. " Isn't it ? " 
 
 " Oh, of course," said Mr. Pushington, " though you might not 
 think it, and thought it don't always come to anything. But it's 
 just this," said Mr. Pushington, "things go on perfectly well whether 
 people play at politics or not. I see to that, and (Mr. Pushington 
 hesitated a moment) so does Mr. Grumbold." 
 
 " Oh, you know Mr. Grumbold, do you ? " said Willie, pleased at 
 finding a common topic for conversation, 
 
 " I should rather think I did," said Mr. Pushington, pensively, he's 
 a very great friend of mine ; be works my big machine for me. You 
 want a big man to work a big machine, don't you ? " 
 
 " Isn't Mr. Grumbold rather hard to get on with ? " said Willie. 
 
 " H'm," said Mr. Pushington, "well, yes and no. It depends how 
 you work him, he's all right by himself, but I object to his principles, 
 or rather, his principle, for he only has one." 
 
 " What's that ? " asked Willie. 
 
 " His union," said Mr. Pushington, with a sigh. " If I could 
 only have him without his principles, they do upset my machine so 
 dreadfully, sometimes. He belongs to ' The Habitual-Strikers'-Pie- 
 Keepers'- and -Eaters'- and -General -Labourers'- Union,' and they 
 amuse themselves sometimes by pulling out the screws of my big 
 machine, and it takes ever so long to put it to rights again." 
 
 This struck Willie as being a new form of union tadtics, unfamiliar 
 to him. But before he could ask any question, Mr. Pushington had 
 already babbled on. 
 
 "Well, well," said Mr. Pushington, "I must be off. I've got to 
 go to the House." 
 
 " In Kensington ? " asked Wilhe. 
 
 " No, in Westminster," said Mr. Pushington. " That's where I 
 play my game." 
 
 " What do you do at the House ? " asked Willie. 
 
 " I'm engaged in private bill legislation," said Mr. Pushington. 
 
 C 2
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 35 
 
 " Is that a paying business? " asked Willie. 
 
 " I fancy some people find it so," said Mr. Pushington courteously, 
 " but oh, but it's a very long job, a very long job." 
 
 " A long job is not usually a disadvantage," thought Willie. 
 " especially if they pay him by time and not by piece." 
 
 " A very long job " repeated Mr. Pushington. " You've no idea 
 what a time it takes to get a private bill through." 
 
 " How do you do it ? "' asked Willie. 
 
 " Well," said the M.P. " You've got to do a great deal of wire 
 pulling and you've got to watch your opportunity." 
 
 There was something that sounded exciting in the method of this 
 and Willie thought he would like to ask if he might join in the 
 sport when Mr. Pushington pulled out his watch and said, 
 
 " Dear, dear, I've got to meet the Archbishop, I must go. Dear, 
 dear, you don't know how difficult it is to pull an Archbishop 
 through. It's ever so much harder to do than giant Grumbold, 
 I've pulled him through many a time before now, though he alway, 
 swears he'll never be wire pulled again. But then his pie you sees 
 you humour him with his pie. You can do a great deal with that 
 pie of his. But these Archbishops they're such tame elephants and 
 they don't have pies, 'that is of course they have other things. Dear, 
 dear, I don't know if I shall ever pull the Archbishop through, he's 
 such a weight, still I'll try my best. Good-bye.'" And off went 
 Mr. Pushington, the niaiiufacfturer. 
 
 "The old monk's quite right." thought Willie. "Everybody's 
 double in this place. I mean not double in the bad sense, being a 
 brute don't you know, all the time you're reall\- smiling at a fellow, 
 but double in what he says and what he does. I wonder why he 
 should be." 
 
 The sun was warm and the sky blue. Willie stretched himself 
 on the grass and rested his face on his hands, he wanted to think 
 things out a bit. " Why should everybody be double ? I wonder 
 wh\-, I wonder why ? " 
 
 " It's not a bit of good wondering," said a voice, and exactly 
 opposite him was a little, ugly, round, black face with green and red
 
 36 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 eyes, also resting on its hands, and looking straight at him. Willie 
 didn't like this at all. "Can't you leave a fellow alone, when he 
 wants to think a thing out. Go away." 
 
 " How do you know, but that I'm helping you to think the thing 
 out ? " said the little black demon. 
 
 " I'd rather do without your help," said Willie, " I'd rather think 
 by myself." 
 
 " You are thinking by yourself," said the little black demon, " and 
 j-ou won't get rid of me by being surly to me." 
 
 " That might be," though Willie, "and yet to be friendly to him 
 might encourage him," so he tried a middle course. 
 
 " You ought to have better manners," said Willie, " and when a 
 man doesn't want your company, you ought to take the hint and go." 
 
 "There you're quite wrong," said the demon, " for the beauty of 
 me just is that I come when I'm not wanted. Besides, don't you 
 preach goody goody to me. People often try it on, but it never 
 answers." 
 
 " Of course it doesn't, any fool knows that," said another voice, 
 a big, huzzy, snarly, sour voice. Willie looked to see to whom the 
 voice belonged, when a great big horse fly, with mottled brown 
 wings and a black back, settled down besides the demon, and veered 
 one of it's great eyes round at him. 
 
 " Permit me to introduce you, ahem ! my friend Skugg," said the 
 demon, politely, waving one hand to Willie and one to the fly. 
 
 " Glad to meet you, Skugg," said Willie, because, though he 
 wasn't really very glad, he thought it was only polite to make some 
 reply in the usual way. 
 
 " I'm a lady," said the horse fly, snappishly, " and I'll trouble you 
 not to be so familiar." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Mrs. Skugg," said Willie. " I didn't mean 
 any offence." 
 
 The horse fly made no reply, and only looked as if she thought, 
 " I'd sting him through that yellow armour, if I could, even though 
 it wasn't worth the exertion." Then she levelled her eye round 
 again at the demon.
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 37 
 
 " Dinner ! " she said. The demon got up and picked a blue 
 geranium, threw it on the ground, and trampled on it till all it's 
 colour was crushed from it; the horse fly crawled towards it, sniffed 
 round it, and then snarled : 
 
 " Not dead enough ! pick another." 
 
 " It won't be any deader," said the demon. 
 
 " Pick another, do as I tell you." The demon did so, and after 
 he'd picked about ten geraniums Willie protested. 
 
 " It's a pity to pick all those jolly flowers and spoil them." 
 
 "You dry up," said Mrs. Skugg. "What I like is no business 
 of yours." 
 
 " It's only a way she has," said the demon. " She never eats 
 half of them, either, but she likes a selection, and she'll come again 
 to-morrow and nibble at them when they're a bit high, and more 
 to her taste." 
 
 " You talk about yourself, or not at all," snarled the horse fly. 
 
 " My good woman," said the demon, " what's the good of telling 
 me to talk about myself, when I haven't got one ? " 
 
 " The horse fly levelled both her eyes on the demon, gave him a 
 very poisonous look, slowly flapped her brown wings, curled up her 
 ugly grey body, and buzzed straight for his ear, stung him horribly, 
 and then shot off like a needle into the forest. 
 
 " The beast ! the beast ! " cried the demon, and off he ran as fast 
 as ever he could to take some frightful vengeance.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TELLS OF THE COLONY UNDER THE ELDER BUSH. 
 
 WHEN the coast was clear Willie took a survey of his 
 surroundings. He found himself lying under an elder 
 bush nicely shaded from the sun. Why it should have 
 been so he could not make out, but it seemed as if the elder bush 
 had spread its arms out there purposely to shelter him and every 
 now and again it fanned some of its green leaves and made a 
 pleasant wind upon his cheeks. 
 
 " It's so kind of it," thought Willie, " especially on a hot day 
 like this." And so he lay among the leaves enjoying the wind, the 
 sunshine and the shade. 
 
 The elder bush appeared to be musing to himself. " Life is large 
 and sunny," he said, " strange that people don't see this, and yet 
 I've told them so often enough, one can't do more than use one's 
 influence," and then he fanned his leaves "socially or otherwise," 
 he added and then he bowed one of his branches in a very dignified 
 way as if he were saluting some great powdered lady of the last 
 century. 
 
 " Large and sunny," he mused, " things have gone on, and things 
 will go on — oh ! how lovely it all is ! — and God is very good to give 
 to His elect so large a margin of leisure." 
 
 "Are you one of His elecft ? " asked Willie, interrupting the 
 soliloquy. 
 
 The elder bush expressed great surprise at being asked a question 
 of this kind. 
 
 " How could ^OM, who wear the coat of armour made for the Earl 
 of Warwick in 1346, ask such a question ? " he said. 
 
 But Willie didn't want the elder bush to be under any mistake on 
 that score. 
 
 " Oh, please I didn't really live then," he said. " I'm not so old 
 as the suit ; and I've only got it on for the occasion." 
 
 " And pray, what is the occasion that you have got it on for? " 
 asked the bush rather frigidly.
 
 FROM WIIITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 39 
 
 " I'm going through the enchanted wood," said Willie, "and I'm 
 looking for my friends King Arthur and Sir Launcelot." 
 
 The elder bush brightened up at this. " My dear sir," he said, 
 " I apologize I might have known that you were one of us. I beg 
 your pardon. I beg your pardon most sincerely,'' and thereupon he 
 made another eighteenth century bow. 
 
 Willie couldn't see why the elder bush should apologize so 
 profusely, but no doubt he thought " It's because he knows my 
 friends." 
 
 " Manners maketh man " murmured the elder bush and he gave 
 another stately bow. 
 
 Willie was just about to continue the conversation, when, plump, 
 plump, plump down fell a great green caterpillar from the top of 
 the bush and lit on one of the lower stalks and leaves near by. 
 
 " Hullo ! " said Willie, " who are you and what do you want ? " 
 
 " Pray, don't be alarmed," said the green caterpillar, " I'm a 
 mere coincidence. I'm always happening but nobody takes much 
 count of me." 
 
 And thereupon he shrunk up and spread out, and shrunk up and 
 spread out, working his stomach up and down till he'd got to the 
 end of the leaf, when, quite forgetting that he was too heavy for it, 
 he lost his balance and toppled over on to the ground. 
 
 " Poor chap ! " cried Willie, " haven't you hurt yourself? " 
 
 It took the caterpillar some time to uncurl, but when he had 
 wriggled into shape again, he said beamily, " No thanks, I'm a 
 mere coincidence, I often happen, nobody much minds and I'm very 
 well padded, thanks all the same." 
 
 " It's well enough for you," said a small red money spider gasping 
 for breath, " but it's rather rough luck on a little chap like me when 
 a big hulk of fifty tons comes thundering down upon him ! " 
 
 The caterpillar smiled again complacently. " Dear friend," he 
 said, "do compose yourself, don't you see I'm a mere coincidence, 
 how can I help it ; besides, look what a lovely combination of colour 
 we make. Why you're vermilion and I'm pea green, just think 
 of it ! " 
 
 In answer to this the little red spider rushed rapidly all over the 
 caterpillar and then rushed back again.
 
 40 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 " That's what you're always doing," said the caterpillar, " it 
 doesn't hurt me at all, it's only a little irritating and I'm sure it 
 must tire you, my good soul," — and here he smiled benignly, " can't 
 you keep still a bit ? " 
 
 " No," said the spider and swift as lightning he shot up a grass 
 blade, surveyed the caterpillar all over six times and rushed down 
 again. 
 
 " Well then, I'm quite sure you'll die of heart disease some day, 
 that's all I can say, now I've warned you, do take life a bit easier 
 there's a good thing; for my sake do now if not for your own." 
 
 But the little red spider would not be pacified, he rushed all over 
 and about the place, and called up one little red spider, and then 
 another, until at last there were a dozen or more of them rushing 
 here and there, up and down, in and out, hither and thither, in the 
 wildest state of excitement. The caterpillar looked on, not in the 
 least troubled at the confusion he had caused, but mildly remarked : 
 
 " How ridiculous these financiers are when they once get into 
 a panic." 
 
 The excitement among the spiders increased and spread so rapidly 
 that it woke up the shrew mouse close by, she rustled amid her 
 leaves and peeped out of her hole. 
 
 " Dear, dear," she said, " What is it all about ? " 
 
 " There," said the caterpillar, " you've woke up the next door 
 tenant, I thought you would ! " 
 
 " Dear, dear," repeated the shrew mouse, " what on earth is it all 
 about, is it another crisis ? — these things happen periodically now, 
 it's really most distressing." 
 
 " It's really most absurd," said the caterpillar. " Their system's 
 out of order again. I can't think what's the good of having a system 
 at all, if it's so easily upset." 
 
 " I shall appeal to the landlord," said the shrew mouse, " and ask 
 him to interfere, and if he doesn't I shall quit ! " 
 
 This threat seemed to have an effect upon the spiders, for they 
 grew quieter at once, some hid under leaves, and some curled them- 
 selves up into pellets and pretended to be dead, and some timidly 
 swung on their threads and began spinning again. 
 
 Then suddenly six of them made off as fast as possible, in one 
 direction, together.
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 4 1 
 
 " Where are they off to now ? " said the shrew monse. 
 
 " Don't you see ? " said the caterpillar. " They've found a 
 new tare." 
 
 Willie watched and saw them make for a little vetch that was just 
 peepinf^ over the grass. 
 
 The vetch didn't seem to like it, for it said, " No, no, you'd much 
 better not, you know I've been sown by the enemy, and I shall get 
 you into dreadful trouble and confusion if you come here. You 
 know I shall." 
 
 " There's no stopping them now," said the shrew mouse. " That's 
 what they call enterprise. If they'd only let us have a little more 
 quiet, and not think that the whole scheme of things depended 
 upon their fussingand calculations, we should all be so much happier." 
 
 Several other voices, apparently below ground, chimed in at this, 
 and agreed with the shrew mouse ; but the shrew mouse didn't seem 
 inclined to converse with them. 
 
 " Who were they ? " asked Willie. 
 
 " Oh, merely some of the sub-tenants," said the shrew mouse, 
 *• they're of no account." 
 
 " Are they mice too ? " asked Willie. 
 
 " Dear me, no ! " was the answer. " Merely beetles, grubs, and 
 blind-worms. Permit me " 
 
 " But " said Willie. 
 
 " No, no, no," said the shrew mouse. " Permit me to introduce 
 you to the three gilded ladies who live under yonder leaf. Miss 
 Prospecft, Miss Retrospect, and — Etcetera." 
 
 " What was the third one's name, please ? " asked Willie. 
 
 " She hasn't got one," said the shrew mouse. 
 
 " Surely she must have a name," said Willie. " Everybody has a 
 name, even if it's only for convenience — for instance — my name's 
 Willie for convenience, but I've got a much better name than that 
 besides." 
 
 " Go and ask her then, sir," said the shrew mouse. 
 
 Willie looked up under the bush and saw two gilded flies sitting 
 side by side ; their wings glittered in the dim light of a green leaf, 
 the end of which was curled up and woven together. 
 
 " May I know your name ? " asked Willie, politely.
 
 42 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 " / ant,'' said the fly. 
 
 Willie hesitated. " What did you say you were ? " 
 
 " I simply am,'' said the gilded fly. " This is my sister Retrospect, 
 and this is my sister Prospect." 
 
 " But I only see two of you," said Willie. 
 
 " The third one isn't out yet," said the fly. 
 
 " Give my love to the stranger," said a little voice in the cocoon 
 at the corner of the leaf. " I shall be born to-morrow, if it's sunny." 
 
 " But please." said Willie, " I don't understand. How can there 
 be three of you if one isn't born ? " 
 
 " You'd be still more puzzled," said Retrospe(51:, the second fly, 
 " if you knew that 1 was only pretending to be alive." 
 
 "And still more," said the first fly, " if you knew that I had no 
 existence whatever, and that that was the reason for my having no 
 name. But, buz, buz, one's got to talk to you in a very simple way, 
 of course. Have you ever heard of a young lad}- coming out ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Willie. 
 
 " Well, she's a young lady before she's out," said the first fly, 
 "isn't she?" 
 
 " Yes," said Willie. " I suppose so." 
 
 " And she's a young lady after she's out, isn't she ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Willie. 
 
 " Well, it's to be hoped she is," said the fly, " so pray be more 
 considerate to my younger sister and don't fancy you know every- 
 thing." 
 
 Willie thought it rather hard to be snubbed like this, but the 
 cocoon comforted him. 
 
 " Stranger," it said, " Wait for me to-morrow at mid-day in the 
 sunshine and I'll come to you." 
 
 " Friend," said the second fly dreamily, " do you remember how 
 the little lady in grey made the woods sing to you ? Well, I sang 
 alto in that chorus." 
 
 " Buz, buz/' said the first fly, " that's all much too romantic. 
 Things aren't near so nice as they were once or as they ever will 
 become. Isn't that so ? " she said to Willie. 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know, at least I don't think I do."
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 43 
 
 " Dear, dear, you're very innocent. Now, answer me this," said 
 the gilded fly, " which of the three would you rather have : the 
 holidav, or the prospe(ft of the holiday, or the retrospecft of the 
 holiday ? " 
 
 " The holiday of course," said Willie. 
 
 " Well that's very complimentary to me no doubt," said the 
 gilded fly, " but if I asked you the same question again to-morrow, 
 would you give me the same answer ? " 
 " Of course I would," said Willie. 
 
 " Then don't tell such horrid fibs to-day," said the gilded fly. 
 " If you prefer the prospect of the holiday say so straight and don't 
 beat about the bush ! " 
 
 " I knew he'd like me best," said the little voice in the cocoon. 
 " W^ait for me to-morrow, kind stranger, and I'll fly to you in the 
 mid-day sunshine." 
 
 Willie wondered why the elder bush had taken no share in all this, 
 as it must concern him so nearly, and when the conversation had 
 ceased he spoke to him again and asked him. 
 The elder bush replied primly : 
 
 " I'm the ground landlord and speak another language." 
 " Oh, j'oz^'r^ the landlord, are you ? " said Willie. "Then you'll 
 be able to tell me all about the grubs and blind-worms and — " 
 But the elder bush cut him short. 
 
 " Of course it s very sweet of you," he said, " to take such an 
 interest in my tenants and I love philanthropists above all men. but 
 things go on so nicely here and my agent arranges everything so 
 well, that I'd much rather you let them be. That was what my 
 friend Lord Melbourne always said, and I agree with him. ' Can't 
 you leave it alone ? ' That's what he said, and I agree with him," 
 said the elder bush. " It's a lovely day, isn't it ? " he added, and 
 fanned his branches up and down. 
 
 But Willie still had questions that he wanted to have answered. 
 So he remained still and thought. He was wondering why things 
 that were so strange should yet seem so familiar, and why each one 
 of these little creatures should have something in him that he 
 believed he'd met before. 
 
 At length when he had thought it out and fitted the question 
 nicely together, he put it to the elder bush.
 
 44 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 " You'd better go and ask my friend the nettle, if you want 
 questions of that sort answered. She owns the next estate," said 
 the elder bush. " Only take care how you do it, because she's 
 rather sarcastic sometimes." 
 
 Willie saw that the elder bush didn't much like being questioned 
 further, and, thinking it was best not to spoil so pleasant an 
 acquaintance for the sake of a stray bit of information, he thanked 
 the elder bush for his kindness and his introduftion and left him. 
 
 The nettle was growing hard by, but he didn't invite Willie to 
 rest under him, on the contrary he seemed quite aggressive. 
 
 " Iknow you!" he said, "you'dliketo cut me down with your sword." 
 
 Willie had not had that intention, but the thought came to him 
 that at another time, and under other conditions, a little lashing 
 about among those tall brittle stalks wouldn't be bad exercise. 
 Nettles were nasty things, he had always thought. But of course 
 this was an exceptional nettle ; and after all why shouldn't he make 
 friends with it. So he tried to hide up what his feelings were about 
 nettles in general, and simply said : 
 
 " No, I wouldn't, I only want to be friends, and I believe you're 
 a very wise person, aren't you, who can answer questions ? " 
 
 " Mayhap : " said the Nettle. " My name is Karma. 'Tis an 
 Eastern name, but that's where they first found me out in the very 
 early days." 
 
 " And did they import you from there ? " asked Willie. 
 
 " No," said the nettle grimly, " I came quite of my own accord. 
 I always do go alone by myself and nobody tends or cares for me, 
 because nobody loves me." 
 
 This made Willie feel quite sad for the nettle. " Has nobody 
 ever loved vou ? " he asked. 
 
 But the nettle took no heed of the question. " Nobody loves 
 me," he said, " and yet I bring good as well as evil sometimes. I 
 follow man, and have followed him for ages, when he journeys to 
 the West I journey with him, when he crosses the sea I cross with 
 him, when he enters the undiscovered country I enter with him, 
 when he builds himself a cottage by the wayside I wait for him 
 outside his garden gate, and when I meet him I sting h'uj\." 
 
 " But why should you ? " said Willie. 
 
 " Because I'm one of his consequence.s," said the nettle.
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT, 45 
 
 " What's that ? " asked WilHe. 
 
 " What's an unripe apple after you've eaten it?" asked the nettle. 
 
 " Is it a riddle ? " asked Willie. 
 
 " No, it's a precipitated stomach-ache," said the nettle. 
 
 " Would you sting me now, if I came very near you ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said the nettle. 
 
 " Then that would be beastly mean of you, because I've done you 
 no harm." 
 
 The nettle shock his tawny head, and answered slowly : " One of 
 man's misfortunes is his forgetfulness — you're like the rest of them — 
 you forget what you did 200 years ago." 
 
 " Get along !" said Willie. " Why, I wasn't born then— I'm only 
 fourteen next birthday." 
 
 The nettle laughed bitterly. " And so I suppose you think you 
 were born to please yourself? " 
 
 That was a new way of putting things, and had never occurred 
 to Willie before. After all, what was he born for ? He didn't in the 
 least know what to answer. 
 
 " Very few people do know what they're born for," said the nettle, 
 " and oft-times have I to sting them into knowledge ; but even then 
 they only find out what they might have been born for." 
 
 " I know what I want," said Willie, " if that's what you mean ? " 
 
 " And what do you want ? " asked the nettle. 
 
 " My friends, King Arthur and Sir Launcelot. Can you tell me 
 where to find them ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " Where you least expect them," said the nettle. 
 
 Willie wondered whether this was meant to be sarcastic, and he 
 looked as much, but the nettle merely answered, grimly, " No, it's 
 only when I sting I'm sarcastic. You see I remember when King 
 Arthur was on earth, near a thousand years ago, and, as you know, 
 he was to come again. So he did, and people didn't know him but 
 it was he, nevertheless. You were here a thousand years ago, too, 
 but of course you've forgotten all about it — perhaps if I sting you 
 may remember — still I'm not always sarcastic, and so won't sting 
 you. But don't forget, I have a tremendous memory. Now go 
 your ways and find your friends. Where you least expect them, 
 there you will find them.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 TELLS OF THE CONFLICT IN THE VALLEY. 
 
 WHEN Willie left the nettle, he found to his surprise that he 
 was much nearer the top of the mountain than he had 
 expected, and the higher he went the easier the ascent 
 became. He almost wished that the nettle had stung him, so that 
 he might have remembered all the wonderful things in the past that 
 he thought he must have done, if what the nettle spoke was truth, 
 but the thought of the future, that he was sure was yet before him, 
 made him spring forward and upward. 
 
 That strange sense of climbing a mountain ; the higher you 
 do go, the higher you can go, till you feel at last like a feather 
 blowing your own self upwards. And thus Willie felt, and every- 
 thing opened out before him just like Jack's famous bean-stalk must 
 have opened had you seen it grow bud after bud, flower after flower, 
 leaf after leaf, shooting swiftly up and outwards. 
 
 At length the end came in view, the top of the mountain. And 
 it seemed to him to become quite pointed and girt with clouds, like 
 one of those Welsh peaks, right there, alone in the sky, with the 
 valleys lying all about it, north, south, east and west ; a sunset and 
 a sunrise view, and mists, floating round, now above, now below. 
 
 As he approached the top he saw a figure sitting on a heap of 
 stones that pointed the summit of the mountain, and the figure sat 
 looking to the way of the setting sun. 
 
 How strange to meet a man like this on the top of a mountain, 
 and he was all in grey, clothed as the boulders, and the dim red 
 golden light of the setting sun was playing round him, and seemed 
 to claim him as part of the landscape. 
 
 " I'll go and ask him the way," said Willie to himself. " He'll 
 know. How solemn he looks, I wonder what he's thinking about, 
 and what he's peering at into the sunset ? "
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 49 
 
 But surely he knew the figure. Yes ! as he come nearer it was 
 unmistakeable, and a few more steps brought him within hearing. 
 It was the old monk. There, all alone on the top of the mountain, 
 he sat dreaming into the sunset, and thinking as he dreamed. A 
 great gladness came over Willie as he drew nearer to him. But the 
 old monk showed no surprise at seeing him. 
 
 "So you've got to the top of the mountain, laddie?" he said. 
 " Good luck to you ! — have you seen many strange things ? " 
 
 " Well, yes," said Willie. " Strange people, rather." 
 
 " Would you like to see them again ? " said the old monk. 
 
 " The nice ones," said Willie. 
 
 " One can't always choose," was the old man's answer. 
 
 " Shall I see them all again ? I know I shall see the little lady in 
 grey again, because she promised, and I know she's a sort of person 
 who keeps her promises." 
 
 " Yes," said the old monk. " You'll see them all all again— that 
 is, probably, one always does." 
 
 This was not quite so nice. 
 
 " What ! Giant Grumbold, too ? " 
 
 " Oh yes," said the monk. " He's sure to turn up again — besides, 
 he grows." 
 
 " Grows ! I should have thought he was big enough by now." 
 
 " No doubt," said the old monk. " Other people think so too, 
 especially Mr. Pushington. But he never stops growing — that's his 
 misfortune — and sometimes he outgrows his strength." 
 
 " What's does he do then ? " asked Willie. 
 
 " He waits till he catches himself up again," said the old monk. 
 
 Willie was a little perplexed. 
 
 " Of course his pie grows with him." 
 
 It seemed reasonable that a giant should grow, but a pie growing 
 was a new idea. Still, if the pie was part of the giant, and the 
 giant part of the pie, perhaps it wasn't so odd after all. 
 
 '* Yes," said the old monk, "one always see everything again, and 
 everything always turns up again. It's not always the same as 
 it was before, because, \"Ou see, sometimes von meet it when the sun
 
 50 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 rises, and sometimes you see it when the sun sets, like now — so it 
 may be cold, and watery, and blue, or it may be warm, and golden , 
 and red ; but it always comes again, it always comes again," he 
 added, dreamily, and then he gazed lixedly at the sunset and began 
 chanting his old chant to himself, and the words sounded sweet, and 
 strange, and different : " Good luck have thou with thine honour — 
 ride on because of the word of truth, of meekness, of righteousness, 
 and thy right hand shall teach thee terrible things." 
 
 The summer sun was sinking through the woods in the valley, the 
 trees were nodding in response, the plain in its green and golden 
 colours, had joined in the chant. 
 
 Then there was a pause, and everything was silent, simply every- 
 thing. You might have heard a dandelion seed drop, there as you 
 sat in the midst of all this vastness. It was as silent as if ten 
 thousand people were together, and holding their breath to listen 
 what a great orator was just going to tell them. 
 
 The old monk broke the silence. " It's on an evening like this 
 that they all come back," he said. " Don't you remember the 
 proverb about casting your bread upon the waters and finding it 
 after many days ? " 
 
 Willie thought he did, though if the ducks eat the bread he didn't 
 quite see how it could in that case. 
 
 " The ducks never eat the bread," said the old monk, interpreting 
 his thoughts. " They seem to sometimes, but they never really do ! " 
 
 Then he began dreaming again, and gazed longingly at the great 
 sinking sun. 
 
 " You don't know how good and kind the sun is, or what it 
 doesn't all do for us ! Look at it now," he added and he pointed 
 his withered hand to the West. " See those red streaks of growing 
 mist — the great arms of the sun as it embraces everything," 
 
 Then he paused, still pointing, and his old hand shook as it traced 
 for Willie the movements of the clouds as they flowed from the 
 setting sun, and Willie knelt down beside the old man and watched 
 with the movement of his hand. 
 
 D 2
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 51 
 
 " The great red sun as it sinks gathers up all the beauty, and the 
 splendour, and the greatness of the world into its bosom, and 
 carries them under, and then what do you think it does with all its 
 treasures ? " 
 
 *' What ? " asked Willie in a whisper. 
 
 " It changes them into a life of new colour, and new beauty, and 
 new greatness, and brings them up again on the other side on the 
 next day — See ! " 
 
 And Willie knelt in the evening sun light leaning his head against 
 the old monk's knee. And after they had been there for a while 
 the old monk spoke again. 
 
 " Would you like to have a peep into the future ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Willie. 
 
 "Well, then watch With me here for a bit, and as the sun goes 
 down you'll see something." 
 
 So Willie watched. 
 
 Then the valley below began to catch into light, the trees no 
 longer green began to change into reds and greys, and a strange 
 purple coloured mist rose in the valley, and as it rose two figures 
 seemed to form out of it, both in glittering armour and carrying 
 swords. 
 
 Willie was nerved with excitement. 
 
 " Who are they ? " he asked, catching hold of the old monk's 
 sack-cloth. 
 
 " Watch ! " said the old monk. 
 
 " Are they King Arthur and Sir Launcelot ? If so I must go to 
 them ! " 
 
 " No," said the monk. " No ! watch ! " 
 
 The two figures came nearer to each other and little by little 
 Willie could distinguish them in the mist, the one was old and 
 firm, and stately, and wore on his head a great crown imperial set 
 with jewels. The other was young and dazzling and on his head 
 was a red crown. 
 
 " It's the two kings come out to fight again," said the old monk. 
 
 " What kings ? " asked Willie.
 
 52 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 "That one," said the old monk, pointing to the stately greybeard 
 " owns the greatest empire that has ever been, the empire on which 
 the sun never sets, and that one," he said pointing to the dazzling 
 youth — " that one rules the empire that is to be." 
 
 " What are they fighting for? " asked Willie. 
 
 " The same that all the greatest battles of all time have been 
 fought for." 
 
 '• What's that ? " said \\'illie. 
 
 " An idea," said the old monk, " and whenever the clash of their 
 swords is heard in the valley and the red banner and the Union 
 Jack come out to war, all the plains and the hills and the woods 
 look on in wonder to see how the conflicT: will turn and what will 
 come of it all." 
 
 "Whose is the best idea?" asked Willie, "and which do you 
 think should win ? " 
 
 " There is no better or best in ideas," said the old monk. " They 
 are all equally good, the misfortune is that to get one you sometimes 
 must lose the others, but here the woods and the valleys and the 
 hills live in hope that both may win." 
 
 "Which do yoH think will win ? " asked Willie. 
 
 " I don't know," said the old monk, " let us wait and see." 
 
 And then the clash of swords broke from the valley and the two 
 champions were measured m the fight, and the sheen and glitter of 
 the steel and the gold shot up through the mist and they fought for 
 a long space and neither won, each being equal to the other. 
 
 Then suddenly the king of the red crown made a great pass and 
 followed it up and the greybeard was driven back and it seemed he 
 was about to fall and that it would be all over with him, and Willie 
 gave a cry of sorrow for he thought in that moment of all the great 
 deeds of the past, and the great battles and the great men of England 
 and all that he had ever read and dreamed of in his history books, 
 and he thought how this would all vanish with the fall of the king 
 with the golden crown. 
 
 " Can nothing help him ? " he said to the old monk. 
 
 " Watch ! " was the answer.
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 55 
 
 And scarcely had the old man said it when the battle turned 
 again ; the king of the red crown slipped and the greybeard sprang 
 up and upon him, and none of his youth and splendour seemed to 
 serve him now. It was but a moment and the end would be there, 
 and in that moment the thought came over Willie that all his 
 friendships and all he had been taught and all his dreams for the 
 future and all he had ever loved would be lost to him if the young 
 king fell, and he seized the old monk by the hand and sprang to 
 his feet. 
 
 " Let's go and help him ! " he cried. 
 
 But ere he had said the words a great moaning wind swept across 
 the land, the trees bowed their heads, a grey mist trailed through 
 the valley and both figures were blotted out of sight. 
 
 " I must go and see ! " cried Willie. " I must go and see ! " and 
 forgetful of the coming night or of the unknown mountain ways or 
 of the old monk whom he left up behind him, W^illie bounded down 
 the mountain path to seek that strange king in the scarlet crown. 
 
 " Remember ! remember ! " a warning voice called after him. 
 " Remember ! remember ! you have your own battle to fight. 
 Forget not that you wear the yellow armour, and carry the enchanted 
 sword."
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 TELLS OF WHAT HAPPENS TO EVERYBODY WHO IS ANYBODY 
 
 IN PARTICULAR. 
 
 TO catch a butterfly in a net as you run down hill is one thing, 
 it may be nice for you but it isn't always so nice for the 
 butterfly, because — and Willie had been told this very clearly, 
 — butterflies preferred showing their wings in the open air to showing 
 them in specimen boxes. But it's quite another thing when the 
 butterfly turns round and catches you in the net that you intended 
 for him and sternly bids you go into his specimen box. 
 
 Here was Willie chasing the future down hill as if it were a 
 butterfly and lo ! the future turned and closed in upon him. 
 
 Faster and faster he ran, and darker and darker it grew in the 
 valley, and denser and denser became the mist, till soon he could 
 see neither the mountain that he had left behind, not the valley that 
 he was seeking before. Still on he ran, scampering over the boulders, 
 jumping from ledge to ledge, following as best as he could the steep 
 winding path that led down the side of the hill. And still the 
 evening grew darker around him — the sun was gone, the mountain 
 was no longer visible, the valley itself though nearer was out of 
 sight. A little space and he was all surrounded in the dark grey 
 mist, and could see no more than the few steps before him as he 
 sprang from ledge to ledge. What if his foot should slip now and 
 he fall down some precipice. Yet the thought of the strong youth 
 with the red crown made him speed on regardless of danger, and 
 forward he sprang swifter and swifter. 
 
 He thought the journey was almost endless, he did not know how 
 far he had gone or how long he had been running. At length the 
 ground grew less steep, and he thought he must be getting near the 
 plain, then as ran he felt it becoming sodden, it was marsh land and 
 reeds instead of boulders, and when he was quite on the level he 
 checked himself, stood still and tried to listen and take his bearings.
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 57 
 
 He could make out nothing through the mist, it was wet, grey 
 night all round him, he listened but could hear nothing. There was 
 no sound of swords or fighting — one sullen silence all about him. 
 Still he felt the impulse to go on, so he went, going in the direction 
 in which he thought the Kings must have been. He went slowly, 
 for it was heavy walking in the marsh, and the mist had so closed 
 in upon him that he could see only a few paces before him. Where 
 was it all going to lead to ? Was this the future ? How would he 
 ever make his way through ? 
 
 Suddenly he became aware of a figure standing in the path before 
 him. He looked and it was another knight clothed in armour like 
 his own. Could this be one of the kings at last ? Could it be one 
 of his own heros even ? Willie's heart beat with joy. But the figure 
 made no way for him. It stood firm. \\'illie drew himself up. 
 
 " Who are you ? " he said. 
 
 " I am Opposition," answered the figure, " draw and fight me ! " 
 
 Willie was prepared — here then was his battle and he had the 
 enchanted sword to fight with. He felt safe and strong. He drew, 
 and stood himself in position. The two swords were read}- and the 
 two knights measured in battle against one another. 
 
 Willie felt the weight of the strange knight's steel against his, it 
 weighed heavy. The strange knight had an iron arm. They struck 
 and struck again, each watching the other's eye, but the strange 
 knight stood firm as a rock : and all Willie's strokes as he sprang 
 lightly round him did he seem to turn aside as he might turn the 
 twigs in a wind swept forest. There seemed no moving him. 
 
 Then as Willie watched his enemy's eye, there came into it a 
 strange glitter. It was an uncertain eye that said " don't trust me " 
 and Willie felt its warning and that he must be on his guard for some 
 sudden attack other than that of the sword. 
 
 And so forsooth it was. The enemy was changing ; changing 
 form ; as his eye so his body, he was growing greater before 
 him ; greater than Willie ; heads taller than Willie, stronger 
 and more terrible. Willie nerved himself together for a brave 
 assault upon him and after a little skirmishing dealt the strange
 
 58 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT, 
 
 one a great blow upon the chest, when lo 1 instead of impenetrable 
 steel with strong flesh and blood behind it there was a sound as of 
 the whole man being hollow from top to toe, a deep empty sound as 
 if something had been smitten that had no substance. Willie struck 
 again and the figure stood erect and motionless for a minute and 
 then all life went out of its eyes, and a voice not of it but from within 
 it cried in a hollow hissing sound — 
 
 " Idols — idols— illusion — illusion — idols — ss — sss — ssss ! " 
 
 " Come out of it ! " cried the boy. " Whatever you are ! " and he 
 smote again. 
 
 Then everything fell to pieces. The great arms fell off with a 
 thud upon the ground, and the head with its helmet breaking as it 
 fell — then the legs toppled over, and the big hollow torso broke open 
 into two. 
 
 But a new horror came from within it — coiled in a nest of slime 
 was a big serpent, flat browed, hairy headed, with mottled glittering 
 colours on its skin — and stiff uneven flanges growing from it, horrible 
 to see. 
 
 Willie made for it at once as it swiftly shimmered towards him 
 and with his sword struck off its hairy head, instantly two new heads 
 sprang out in its place — he struck again, and two more heads sprang 
 forth, for every head he struck, two new ones, glittering eyed, hairy, 
 and horrible sprang forth. Willie was bewildered. The serpent's 
 heads closed around him — their flanges expanding and contracting, 
 their heads hissing and waving to and fro and coming nearer and 
 nearer on to him till their sickly slime w-as covering his armour. 
 Then he bethought himself — striking with the sword only brought 
 more — so he would merely stand still and see what they would do if 
 they closed in upon him and he stood quite firm, unmoved. This 
 had its effect. The serpents seemed to grow powerless. They 
 throbbed and hissed against him but they could not strike him, and 
 never a one could stand the look from his face — one by one they 
 shrivelled away and were paralysed — one by one — till at last with 
 throbs and shivering and palpitation the whole was reduced to one 
 black mass and Willie thought the terrible battle was over.
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 6l 
 
 But it was not over. Just as he was preparing to put up his sword 
 and go his ways — the dull black mass sprang into life — darted up 
 into the dark grey air and made for him — it was none other than the 
 demon — the demon now flashing wickedness and fury from his eyes. 
 Willie was no longer attacking, he was being attacked — the demon 
 sprang on him — first here then there — from behind and from in front 
 and Willie struck out lustily with his sword. 
 
 When sudden — snap ! clash ! — glitter of broken fragments and 
 splinters — the enchanted weapon was shattered into a thousand 
 pieces. It was all over with Willie. In an instant the demon was 
 upon him, seizing him by the throat as a dog might, he swung his 
 legs round the boy and sought by swaying himself to and fro to throw 
 him over on the ground and trample on him. 
 
 There even in the thick of the closed struggle the thought came to 
 Willie. " That comes of trusting to an enchanted sword — I might 
 have thought those old fashioned things were humbug." And swift 
 as lightning another thought came to him. " Stratford lists will do 
 it though ! " and suiting the action to the thought he let fly right and 
 left, bang ! bang ! bang ! on the demon's face, nose, eyes, ears, 
 mouth, as never a school-boy did before. This was the way to beat 
 Proteus. A few minutes and all was over. The demon let go his 
 hold and fell to the ground howling horribly, then he jumped up, 
 turned tail and in terror lest Willie should give chase, scarce daring 
 to look round, and howling with pain he ran helter skelter away into 
 the mist, into the silence, into the night. 
 
 H^
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 TELLS HOW SIMPLE AFTER ALL THLNGS ARE IN FAIRYLAND. 
 
 WHEN the demon was gone the mist began to clear. Sky 
 and plain and mountain showed themselves again but dim 
 and hidden for it was night now, and Willie wondered in 
 how small a space the darkness had come over. Surely the battle 
 did not last so long into the night. Yet even so, for there was the 
 queen moon in the sky and the fleecy clouds driving across her as 
 they do when the wind and she are at peace together and he scatters 
 them away to make the night clear for her to shine. 
 
 After a while as he went, it seemed to him as if he heard the 
 sound of music in the night far away — that strange plaintive sound 
 of distant singing, like a lingering breath upon the air. He waited 
 to listen whence the sound came, and then made for it. It seemed 
 some distance away in the valley. As he came nearer, it grew 
 plainer. It was the sound of a singing that he knew well, the songs 
 of his mates the other boys. Strange that they should be there ! 
 And what could they be doing here in the night. His heart beat 
 for joy at meeting them again where he least expe(?ted to meet them, 
 after all his travels and adventures, for what strange things had he 
 not to tell them ; and to be with them — what delight ! For he was 
 weary and worn with the battle and to be with them would be great 
 
 joy. 
 
 Indeed, he looked rather a sorry sight. His hair was dishevelled, 
 his helmet lost and that bright yellow armour all bruised and soiled 
 with dirt, the cloak with the cross upon it creased and torn. He 
 was no more the gay sunbeam of the morning, all dazzling and 
 hopeful, proud of himself and conscious of his brightness. 
 
 Suddenly the singing burst upon him quite clear and distinft, so 
 that he could even recognise the voices of some of his playfellows.
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 63 
 
 Another few steps and he would be with them, when lo ! throuf^h 
 the trees something ghttered in the moonhght before him. Between 
 him and them was a river, strong, deep and silent. How was he to 
 cross this ? He stood still at the brink f)f the river and cast about 
 him as to what he should do. 
 
 There was no light but the light of the moon that glimmered 
 through the willows and the tall rashes, but he thought he saw up 
 in a great old willow tree on an eyot in the river some white figures 
 sitting. How strange ! — and he seemed to know them — then there 
 was a song again. 
 
 " I care for nobody, no not I, 
 And nobody cares for me." 
 
 Yes, it was quite certain that was Hubert's voice and there he sat 
 up in the great tree among the leaves, and there were some of the 
 others too. Yes, he could make them out — there was Walter, and 
 there sat Bill, and there Frank, and there Charley, and at the foot 
 of the tree, was a bell tent and a boat moored to the sags. Surely 
 he couldn't be mistaken. He waited to make certain. Then sang 
 the voices in the tree again. 
 
 " And they all flappit their wings and cried 
 
 Caw, caw, caw. 
 And thev all flappit their wings and cried 
 Caw, caw, caw." 
 
 Yes, that was Frank's voice without doubt — that little shrill treble 
 one that wanted to be heard loudest at the finish, without doubt 
 it was. 
 
 He waited till the end of the song, and then tried a call. His 
 call carried far away among the forest trees, over the face of the 
 river, and up into the sky it seemed, and then he listened — they 
 must have heard it, and sure enough there came an answer back as 
 clear as anything. 
 
 " Pirra whirrrrrr ! " 
 
 "That wasn't their call," said Willie to himself, "that was a 
 moor-hen among the reeds in the e)ot, how odd that they don't 
 hear me."
 
 64 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 Then he waited again, and the singing burst on him louder and 
 sweeter than ever — This time all in parts. 
 
 " And the birds of the air fell a sighin' and a sobbin' 
 
 As they heard of the death of poor Cock Robin 
 
 As they heard of the death of poor Cock Robin." 
 '' How jolly it sounds in the night. Til join in, then the\'re sure 
 to hear — Why it's only across the stream ! " So he waited till the 
 verse came round and then he sang, shrill and clear into the night 
 as loud as he could 
 
 " Who'll dig his grave ? " 
 and the answer came back clear and shrill across the water and so 
 faded in a chant, 
 
 " I, said the owl, 
 
 With my spade and trowel 
 
 I'll — dig — his graaa — ve " 
 and then the chorus broke forth from the great willow tree and its 
 branches bent and bowed with the music. 
 
 " All the birds of the air fell a sighin' and a sobbin' 
 
 As they heard of the death of poor Cock Robin, 
 
 As they heard of the de — ath of poor Cock Robin ! " 
 No, they didn't know he was there that was evident, so he waited 
 for another silence and then tried another call, and clear as ever the 
 cry of the moor-hen among the reeds came back over the night, 
 
 " Pirra whirrrrrrr ! " 
 Willie began to feel lonely and wretched at the thought of being 
 so near to the other boys, and yet quite unable to make them hear 
 him. Then the music beckoned to him again, this time all tripping 
 and dancing to the little Italian tune so well known to him. 
 
 " I knew a comrade true, boys, 
 
 Dauntless to dare and do, boys. 
 
 Loving and gentle too, boys. 
 
 To him a verse is due, boys, 
 
 I sing his praise with you, boys. 
 
 And that for him I'll do, boys. 
 
 What he for me, that I for you, would do, my comrade 
 true!"
 
 FROM WHITKCHAPEL TO CAMlil.OT. 65 
 
 And then again the chorus laughing in the tree. 
 
 " Oh, how I wish I could get over to them. It's a cross road I 
 suppose. I wonder if the old monk could help me ! " said Willie 
 half out loud. 
 
 " The old monk can't help )ou here," said the kind sad voice. 
 
 Willie looked round and saw the bowed figure of the old man 
 standing at his side. His cowl was drawn over his head and he 
 carried his staff in his hand. 
 
 " There are some places where no wishing in the world can take 
 you to." 
 
 "Can't I swim across the stream?" said Willie, " or couldn't 
 they send the boat over to fetch me — if I could only make them 
 hear ? " 
 
 " You can't make them hear," said the old monk, "because you 
 see they're in a different world from you — it's they who are in fairy- 
 land now— not you." 
 
 " But I'd give it all up to be with them ? " cried the boy. " Mayn't 
 I strip my armour off and jump in and be with them ? " 
 
 " You have donned the yellow suit and you must wear it to the 
 end," said the old monk. " Take my hand and watch and listen." 
 
 It was a comfort to have some one for company though he'd have 
 given up the old monk willingly to have been allowed to join in with 
 his mates on the eyot, so he took the old monk's hand and watched 
 and listened. 
 
 The night was changing and a cloud had floated across the moon. 
 He could see the figures no longer, only the big swaying mass of tree, 
 but he heard the music and it seemed now as if the tree alone was 
 singing with many voices. 
 
 When it was still again, the old monk whispered, " You've read of 
 speaking trees in your fairy tales, haven't you ? " 
 " Yes," said Willie. 
 
 " Well this was how they did it. There were the oaks of Dodona 
 — did you ever hear speak of them ? — who told men their fates and
 
 66 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 prophesied the great things of the gods to them — this is how they 
 did it — hsten — it's very simple, isn't it P^This is the last time the 
 willow tree will speak to you — listen ! " 
 
 " Lo, the rolling of the thunder," sang the tree, this time with all 
 its voices fully pitched and the wind of the night making all its 
 leaves rustle and all its boughs rock, 
 
 '' Lo, the rolling of the thunder, 
 Lo, the sun and lo ! thereunder 
 Riseth wrath and hope and wonder, 
 As the host goes marching on." 
 
 Then silence. Willie felt the old monk's palm ticking in his, the 
 pulse of the old man was beating in time with the boy's. They 
 watched together for a while but neither saw nor heard aught, and 
 Willie thought that fairyland had flown again, and that he was merely 
 on the banks of the river in the night. 
 
 Then, suddenly the tent shot into light, and he saw the movement 
 of figures passing round within the canvas and the shadows hovering, 
 coming and departing in front of the light and fading on the dim 
 white circle on the tent ? Yes it was all there yet, the eyot and the 
 reeds and the wallow and the boat moored to the sag, but very dim 
 now, for the only light that showed it was from the tent itself. And 
 then came broken sounds of voices, and laughter, and snatches of song 
 and poetry and jokes — all confused — confused as the shadows. 
 . "Hark ! did you hear that ? " whispered the old monk. 
 
 " No," said Willie under his breath. " What was it ? " 
 
 " Listen again then." 
 
 " Before you came to camp," said a voice in the tent, " came many 
 a welcome gift. Praises and presents came and nourishing food — 
 till at last among the recruits you came, taciturn with nothing to 
 give — w-e but look on each other — When ! more than all gifts of the 
 world you gave me — " 
 
 " Hush ! don't interrupt ! listen again ! " said the old monk. 
 
 Willie listened but without knowing who's the voice was that was 
 speaking in the tent — and only just able to catch the sound, for it 
 was very still and subdued. 
 
 E 2
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 67 
 
 " Come," said the voice. 
 
 " Come, I will make the Continent indissoluble, 
 
 I will make the most splendid race the sun ever yet 
 
 shone upon, 
 I will make divine magnetic lands, 
 With the love of comrades. 
 With the hfe-long love of comrades." 
 Then the voice sank into a murmur and Willie could hear no more, 
 and then the light in the tent was blown out and all was dark as 
 before. 
 
 " Good-night," said one voice. " Good-night," echoed another, 
 and the sound sank in a murmur among the reeds. 
 " Good night ! " " Good night ! " " Good night ! " 
 
 /^
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 TELLS OF SOMETHING THAT MIGHT HAVE HAPPENED OTHERWISE. 
 
 IT was like a cold shock to Willie when the light in the tent was 
 blown out. The thought suddenly came to him that he was 
 all and utterly alone in the night, with not a soul to befriend 
 and help him. He felt for the warmth of the old monk's hand, but 
 the pulse seemed to have stopped beating. He held the hand in his 
 still, but there seemed to be no life in it, and instead of being warm 
 it was cold. He pressed it, but it gave no response to his pressure. 
 It was cold, and hard, and friendless. He looked round in the dark, 
 and found, not that he held the old monk's hand in his, but that he 
 was holding the branch of a plane tree that grew at the water's edge, 
 and as he pressed the branch it went lap, lap, lap on to the water. 
 
 What was he to do ? Where was he to go ? The night was 
 cold, and dark, and cheerless, and he had no one to help, or comfort, 
 or guide him. The river he could not cross, the road back would 
 only lead him again over the mountain of facfts, and there was no 
 one in the world to help him or tell him what to do. In the dark- 
 ness there a shiver came over him, and right away down inside him 
 things began to get very creepy and compressed, and like as if his 
 heart was being forced up into his mouth, or wanted to start out of 
 his eyes. To think of this, after all he'd been through ; after his 
 great fight with the demon, and his victory ! If the demon were 
 to come upon him now, thought Willie, what should he do ? 
 And he felt his heart beating, and he had to clench his teeth very 
 tight to prevent the tears from springing. 
 
 But somehow the demon did not come, even though Willie thought 
 that this was just the sort of time and place where a fellow like he 
 might take advantage of you. 
 
 Willie went along the bank for a bit, down what seemed a rough 
 track by the river, and as he went it was as if everything was jeering 
 at him, and making faces. The trees in gnarled and knotted masks.
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 6q 
 
 and the branches grinning and jeering, and the bushes laughing him 
 to scorn, and the wet plants and grasses, as he walked over them, 
 lisping and gibing at him. It was all for this, was it, that he had 
 passed through so much, and seen so many strange things, and as 
 for his friends, it was likely he would find them here, wasn't it ? 
 
 Forsooth, a pretty knight in his cold and heavy armour, all dented, 
 and with the dew of evening on his face and hair, and the dirt on 
 his hands and limbs ! What was the good of it all, he wasn't going 
 to find his friends, there were no such things to find, friends didn't 
 exist all. The world was a lonely world, and all that he had done 
 was done for nothing ; and then in his wretchedness he threw 
 himself down on a bank of grass, buried his face in his hands, and 
 fairly sobbed aloud. 
 
 " I don't think I shall ever find them ! " he cried. " I shall give 
 it up ! I shall give it up ! " 
 
 As he said this a voice in the darkness said sweetly and reprovingly 
 to him. " Give it up ? Sir Percival never gave it up ! " 
 
 Willie recognized whose voice it was, and sprang to his feet. In 
 the darkness he peered around to see where the little lady in grey 
 was, and groped about with his hands. Then he felt her little hand 
 stretched to his, and he gave it a great hug, and again he was on his 
 knees before her like a knight of old. It was so good of her to 
 come, and all that way out into the night too. 
 
 " Yes," said the little lady, " don't you think ideas can come as 
 well in the night as in the day ? " 
 
 But Willie could not answer, he was too awed and too excited, 
 all he could do was to hold her tightly by the hand, for fear lest she 
 should leave him again. 
 
 And then did she speak words of comfort to him, and told him of 
 great things, and great deeds, and great hopes ; told him how every 
 hero had been loyal, and how e\ery hero had kept before him the 
 sunrise aim] that he had first looked to at starting. A hero, she 
 told, was like unto one toiling through a great wood after a golden 
 star that shines to ;him through the trees, beckoning him onward, 
 who as he goes breaks branch and stem aside that impedes his path
 
 JO FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 and branch and stem behind grow rotten and fall as he has touched 
 them, while branch and stem before grow sparse and thin as he 
 nears them, so that his great golden star shines brighter as he comes 
 towards it till at last he grows bright in the light of his star and 
 loses himself within it. 
 
 Willie felt as if he could listen to her for ever, her words were so 
 loving and so gentle. For her sake now all things were worth doing, 
 at her command everything was worth trying. Had she bidden 
 him at that moment toil again and alone over the Mountain of 
 Fadlis he would have done it. But hers was no stern command now, 
 and all she spake was gentleness. 
 
 " What you have loved first that seek to love always," she said, 
 " for where the intention is noble the choice will be noble too. And 
 I,"' she said, "keep a great book with an index of all names, real 
 names, and name of convenience, and in this book I write down all 
 the loves and the friendships that people have or have had for one 
 another, and when the names and their friendships are once writ in 
 my book no power in Heaven or Earth can blot them out again. 
 And the friends may part, and the lovers cease to love one another, 
 but the record of how they loved first remains, and is a record to 
 their honour for ever." 
 
 " But don't mind," she continued, " if when you are down, the 
 trees and the flowers, and even men and beasts gibe at you and 
 make strange faces and look ugly — why faces — there is something 
 in all of them that you don't know — every face has a tale of its own 
 to tell. You do as I say — look at them frontways and look at them 
 sideways, they may be nasty or they may be nice, but there's always 
 something in them that you've never seen before, and that you may 
 always see again." 
 
 And thus did she go on speaking and saying strange things to 
 him, many of which he but half understood, though all made him 
 think how loveable she was. 
 
 " And now that you've come over the Mountain of Fadts," said 
 the little lady, "shall I tell you a secret about something you want ? " 
 
 " About my friends ? " asked Willie.
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 7I 
 
 " Aye," said the little lady. 
 
 " Oil do, shall I see them soon ? Where are they ? — show them 
 me please." 
 
 " You're quite near to them now." 
 
 Willie was delighted. Were they behind the trees there ? Was 
 that they in the near distance ? Did he see the sheen of their 
 armour in the dim light ? — What was it that he saw ? — Was his 
 journey through the strange land accomplished ? 
 
 " Tell me ! tell me ! " he cried. 
 
 " Patience," said the little lady. " Patience. You are on the 
 reverse side of the mountain of facts now, and so the nearer every- 
 thing is to you, the farther it is away. 
 
 Willie cried aloud at this, " Oh, I want them ! I want them ! 
 If they're so near, tell them, do, and let them come to me — they 
 know me — they're fond of me — tell them Pve come so far to look for 
 them, and they'll turn and come to me at once." 
 
 " Hush ! " said the little lady. " Hush ! It'll all come right soon. 
 Look!" and she pointed to the sky. " The night is over now, and 
 the dawn is beginning to break. You're tired, you've had no sleep, 
 it'll all be right when the new sun comes out. So rest here a while 
 on this bank of sleeping flowers. I'll watch over you. It'll all be 
 right when the new sun comes out," she added, and taking his two 
 hands in hers, she chafed them, and then folded them across his 
 breast ; and then she laid his head gently on her lap, and placed her 
 tender hand first on his forehead, brushing the hair back, and then 
 ever so softly on his eyelids, so that a sweet drowsiness came over 
 him, and he felt he could none other but sleep. 
 
 " It'll all come right to-morrow," she whispered, and he heard it 
 half waking, half sleeping, " it'll all come right to-morrow." 
 
 ^^
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 TELLS HOW TO-MORROW CAME AT LAST, AND OF EVERYTHING 
 THAT HAS HAPPENED SINCE, OR IS EVER LIKELY TO HAPPEN. 
 
 WILLIE did not know if he were awake or asleep. His was 
 the sort of feehng that you have when you're happy at 
 waking up and have happy dreams as soon as j'ou fall to 
 sleep. You like it either way. The little lady seemed to be playing 
 with him and teasing him. 
 
 " Are you asleep ? " she said. Yes, he was sure he w^as. " Well, 
 then, come with me, and I'll show you everything in dreamland. 
 But, sure, if you can walk about you must be awake ! " and then he 
 tried to wake himself up in his sleep. " Oh ! it's no use trying 
 that," she said. " That's a very horrid feeling; you'd much better 
 give it up, because you can't be asleep and awake at the same time, 
 though you may be a bit of both." So then he thought he was 
 awake again, and trying ever so hard to get to sleep. " Oh ! that's 
 more horrid still ! " she said. " That's what you have in head-aches 
 and such like things, don't do that. Be either asleep or awake, and 
 try and remain there." 
 
 Thinking he was awake he determined to remain so, and fix all his 
 attention on the little lady, but she laughed at him. 
 
 " That, if anything, is the most horrid state of all," she said. 
 " Now you're like someone who's listening to a very dull sermon, 
 and feels dreadfully afraid lest the other folk, who are trying to 
 listen too, shall see him nodding. Go to sleep, boy, go to sleep ! 
 never mind the sermon ! " 
 
 And when he thought he was fairly off, he heard her say, " Why, 
 what does it matter, it's all the same whether you're asleep or awake. 
 Did you ever hear of the musician who composed his great sonata 
 in his sleep ? The story is how the Devil came to him by night, and 
 taking up the violin that lay by the bedside, played a sonata, the 
 like of which had never been heard before. When he had finished.
 
 ^^ .--^ —
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 75 
 
 the musician, taking the vioHn in his turn, played it too, and wrote 
 the music down, and in the morning when he woke, there lay the 
 violin and there the paper with the sonata scored upon it, but he 
 always said that it was not quite the same sonata as he had heard 
 played in the night. Why, people wake up in the morning and 
 think they're awake, they're wrong though ; and then they go to 
 sleep at night and do all their great deeds and think they haven't 
 done them, and they're wrong again. Strange ! strange ! strange ! " 
 Then she waited a bit, and stroked her hand gently over his forehead 
 in time with his heavy breathing, and then, after a long pause, she 
 spoke again, almost in a whisper : 
 
 " There was once a wonderful tree on which the five worlds grew, 
 and its roots were in the great river, and at its base sat the three 
 weird sisters of fate, and they tended it at night and bathed it with 
 their tears. And all the day it faded, and all the night it revived 
 again. Aye, it's in the night that things are really awake, and it's 
 in the day that they die and sleep into silence." 
 
 Surely the little lady was telling him fairy stories in his sleep. 
 
 " Don't you remember the boys singing in the tree ? " she said. 
 '• There's no mistaking fairyland when you've once had a glimpse 
 of it. 
 
 And then her voice grew fainter, and other voices seemed to mingle 
 with hers. " Stuff! " said one, " be pradtical, what does he want 
 with all these silly fairy tales ? " 
 
 " Yes," growled another, something like the voice of Giant 
 Grumbold. " Like to know how he's to raise his wages on them.'' 
 
 " That depends what he goes for," said the old monk. 
 
 " If he goes for princesses, he'll find princesses, if he goes for 
 wages, he'll get wages, and so if he goes for fairy tales — for wisdom, 
 he'll get wisdom." 
 
 "Stuff!" said the other voice. It was the voice of Skugg, the 
 horse-fly, thought Willie. "A tail is a tail, and a fairy — Why. 
 what is a fairy after all? — an improper thing in muslin with sham 
 wings. I hate theatres, they're wrong ! "
 
 76 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 " Whether by fairy-tales or whether by sarcasm," said the nettle, 
 " You should train his memory more — like the rest of them he's 
 very forgetful." 
 
 " Yes," said another voice, this time unmistakeably Mr. Push- 
 ington's. " You must train them early, the mind of a boy is like a 
 wax tablet." 
 
 " A very wise saying, sir," said the old monk. 
 
 "Ahem! yes!" said Mr. Pushington. " I said that in my evidence 
 before the government commission on — on — on — I forget which one 
 — but all the reporters took it down in shorthand and it went right 
 o%er the United Kingdom in twenty four hours." 
 
 Then another voice chimed in also unmistakeable, 
 
 " Like wax, like me, like wax, like me," it croaked, " a black wax 
 tablet in fact, black wax, black w'ax, black wax." 
 
 " Sculptor's wax," said the old monk, firmly. " And in the end 
 you see the great bronze statue or the great marble figure of the 
 hero for ever." 
 
 " Very true," said the little lady. "There have been heroes all 
 along, and there will be all along to the end ; and the best idea I 
 can give you, laddie, is to believe in them straight off, and then be as 
 firm as a rock and as strong as a giant about them." 
 
 " Yes," chimed in the nettle, ''heroes all along, and I've followed 
 them. I have, from the beginning, and I shall to the end." 
 
 " As long as you believe in them," said the little lady again, " you 
 can keep the name of Sir Percival ; and remember, remember," she 
 hummed, " it was Sir Percival w^ho saw the Holy Grail, it was he 
 who saw it, it was he who saw^ it ! " 
 
 And then a confusion of voices came upon him- — and he heard all 
 sorts of things. 
 
 " I can bully people in the night just as well as in the day," said 
 the demon. " Black wax, black wax, black wax, ha ! ha ! ha ! tall, 
 tall, TALL ! and as for you, Skugg, let's be friends again ! " 
 
 " I will, if you'll spoil it," answered the horse-fly. " Pit it with 
 spots, or scrape it, or blister it, or scratch black pencil marks over 
 its polish, or cut your nasty name on it with a pen-knife, or anything 
 to make it ugly," said Skugg, " I hate vanity ! "
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 77 
 
 " If I can catch him," growled Giant Grumbold, " I won't let him 
 escape again so easily ! I'll give it him for getting me into trouble 
 with the boss — insolent young cucumber ! " 
 
 And then he heard the click of Mr. Pushington's kaleidescope, and 
 all his great machines were booming, and then another click and 
 then Mr. Pushinton spoke, and said, disconsolately, " That's what 
 comes of lingering on the hill ! I knew it would be so — now the 
 Union's struck for a rise — on principle — and the Bill's been thrown 
 out — on principle — and the archbishop jumps with the cat — on 
 principle — and the Lord knows what'll happen now — and I did it 
 for the good of the men and the country, and the Times called it 
 " enlightened self-interest." Oh dear ! ohdcnr! all my screws out 
 again ! " 
 
 " It's not a bit of use your troubling about me," expostulated the 
 caterpillar, blandly, " you know I shall happen again and again, you 
 should really allow more for the unforeseen — the ever-green unforeseen 
 — really you should, now ! 
 
 And then he heard the battling of swords in the valley, and again 
 the two kings had come out to fight, and this time their hosts came 
 with them. Behind the old king with the crown imperial rose all 
 the English heroes : Raleigh, and Nelson, and Henry V., and 
 Edward I., and the Barons of Magna Charta, and Queen Bess, and 
 Sir Thomas More, the great Earl of Chatham, and all who were 
 noblest and bravest in the past, all followed the English flag, and of 
 the other host were men of all nations and types, young men and 
 boys, tirm and brisk of step, from distant lands they had come — from 
 the New World and the Colonies, the West and the East, and they 
 sang with a mighty voice the Marseillaise, and pointed to their 
 leader, that strange young king with the scarlet crown. 
 
 And then the numbers grew bewildering, and the scarlet crown 
 multiplied itself and began to move hither and thither, swiftly to 
 and fro. And then it changed into a host of red rioney spiders, who 
 scrambled over Willie. 
 
 *■ A new continent!" they cried. " A new continent ! let's exploit 
 it I " and off tlicy rushed out of time, out of space.
 
 78 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 " I'm afraid you're having a very troubled night," said the shrew 
 mouse, •' if you curled yourself up more in the dead leaves like I do 
 now, you wouldn't be disturbed so much." 
 
 '• Oh, let him do as he likes," said the elder bush, " can't you 
 leave things alone ? — it's all very beautiful as it is." 
 
 And then came a murmur of dissent from the voices beneath 
 ground. " It's all very well for the people that live in the sun," 
 said the beetles, grubs and blind worms. " It's all very well for the 
 people that live in the sun ! it's all very well for the people that live 
 in the sun ! that live in the sun ! that live in the sun ! that live in 
 the sun, in the sun, in the sun, in the stni ! ! " 
 
 And the voices were all drowned in one general murmur, and soon 
 he felt the morning sunlight shining on his face, and the hum of all 
 the insects and the birds, and they sang as they had sung before 
 when the little lady led them, and then one little voice, one little 
 gilded fly among the rest, cried to him, " I'm waiting for you now, 
 stranger. The sun's out, and I've been born — come and see my 
 new wings and share what's beautiful with me ! Come ! come ! 
 come ! " 
 
 Then another answered, drowsily, " Oh, let him sleep on a bit 
 yet. I told him yesterday I had no name. Everything's changed 
 now, and I wouldn't be what I was yesterday — no ! not for all fairy 
 land ! " 
 
 And then a stray thing floated by, and he knew it for the 
 dandelion seed, and lo ! the other seed, its fellow, came and kissed 
 it, and then the three — " Three friends united " — they said to one 
 another : 
 
 " Stay — we've passed through one cton into another, and now the 
 new world begins again." 
 
 And then the little lady in grey whispered to him, " Wake, for 
 your friends are tf ere ! You will find them now ? " and, as she said 
 it, the yellow armour fell off him, first one piece and then another, 
 the casque, and che chain of roses and rings, and the breast plate 
 and the tuilles, till he was standing free and without any let to his 
 limbs, and as the last piece fell off he saw — what ? Aye, what was
 
 FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 79 
 
 it he saw ? Nothinf; so very strange after all, nothing that was not 
 quite usual, and as it had always been : — One of the merry boys, 
 his fellows, running by along the road, beckoning to him, and then 
 another boy followed also along the road in the same direction, and 
 that boy beckoned too. And then two others together, with their 
 arms twined round each other, talking to one another as if they had 
 the greatest thing of the whole world to talk about, and as they 
 passed they turned and looked at Willie. 
 
 " Come and hear it too," they cried. " Come and hear it too ! " 
 
 And after them came others, some bigger, some not so big, but 
 he knew them all, all his mates, and he felt he must join them, he 
 wanted to know what it was all about ; and there too was Hubert, 
 and there Bill, and there Charley, he must ask them why they had 
 not heard his call to them in the tent, and what they had seen in 
 fairyland on the eyot. And there came another with a big bunch 
 of white pinks in his hands. 
 
 "Look!" he cried, ''the flowers of June! I've got these on a 
 Mile End stall, have one ? Aren't they jolly ? " and on he ran. 
 
 And then another with his books from school, and then another 
 in his gym-shoes scampering along, flicking his towel and ready 
 for a bathe, and then another playing pitch and toss with an orange 
 as he ran. 
 
 ** Come along, come along ! " cried the last boy of all, " See, 
 there they are, there they are at last ! It's a lovely day for a holiday I 
 let's hear all about King Arthur and Sir Launcelot ! " 
 
 And then a voice of that strange wisdom from the other world 
 seemed to say, " Here shall you see your ideals realized — these be 
 your friends — take the moment as you find it and make it noble, 
 that moment of your life which is brightest and sweetest, that 
 moment which is most real, the moment which in the future \ou 
 shall look back upon longingly — that is the moment to aim at — you 
 remember how the teacher said ' Whatsoever thy right hand rindeth 
 to do, do it with thy might ' ! Child of the tmie to be, it is in acftual 
 things that your ideals, that the new state of man, the new state 
 of society, will be realized — go and find its fulfilment in heroism."
 
 So FROM WHITECHAPEL TO CAMELOT. 
 
 And away ran Willie with the rest, and as he ran he heard, far 
 away in the distance, the sound of a hymned benediction and the 
 strange voice singing, 
 
 *' Good luck, good luck, good luck have thou with thine honour, 
 ride on because of the word of truth, of meekness, of righteousness, 
 and thv right hand shall teach thee terrible things." 
 
 THE END,
 
 lO 
 
 6 
 
 5 
 
 o 
 
 lO 
 
 6 
 
 I 
 
 2 
 
 Olha- Publications by flic GUILD & SCHOOL OF 
 HANDICRAFT, or Works issued under its auspices: 
 
 THE TRANSACTIONS OF THE GUILD AND 
 SCHOOL OF HANDICRAFT, Vol. I. Edited by 
 C. R. Ashbee; Preface by G. F. Watts, R.A.; Ledlures, 
 Addresses, Recipes, by Alma Tadema, R.A,,W, Holman 
 Hunt, Henry Holiday, T. Stirling Lee, E. P. Warren, 
 Walter Crane, W. B. Richmond, A.R.A., etc. 
 
 Large paper copies ... 
 
 Ordinary copies 
 
 Set of proofs on hand made Japanese vellum, 
 touched by the Artists ... 
 
 ON SCULPTURE. L. Alma Tadema, R.A 
 
 AN ADDRESS ON THE OPENING OF THE 
 WHITECHAPEL PICTURE EXHIBITION. 
 
 W. Holman Hunt i 2 
 
 PARLOUR ARCHITECTURE. E.P.Warren. ... i 2 
 
 RECIPES AND NOTES. Walter Crane, &c i 2 
 
 ON GESSO. W. B. Richmond, A. R.A i 2 
 
 A SHORT HISTORY OF THE GUILD <S^ SCHOOL 
 
 OF HANDICRAFT. C. R. Ashbee i 2 
 
 DECORATIVE ART FROM A WORKSHOP POINT 
 
 OF VIEW. C. R. Ashbee i 2 
 
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 SOME ILLUSTRATIONS FOR A COURSE OF 
 LECTURES ON DESIGN IN ITS APPLICA- 
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 THE MANUAL OF THE GUILD AND SCHOOL 
 OF HANDICRAFT. Being a Guide to County 
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 A MAP OF ITALY IN THE TIME OF DANTE, 
 with decorative wood-cuts, hand coloured. Ed. Mary 
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 Guildsman {pub. Niitt) 
 
 A TABLE OF THE ARTS AND CRAFTS OF THE 
 
 RENAISSANCE i 2 
 
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