“I always look for nurseries full of children,” said another; “and this winter I have been very fortunate. I am sure children belong especially to us. One evening, looking about in a great city, I saw through the window into a large nursery, where the odious gas had not yet been lighted. Round the fire sat a company of the most delightful children I had ever seen. They were waiting patiently for their tea. It was too good an opportunity to be lost. I hurried away, and gathering together twenty of the best Shadows I could find, returned in a few moments; and entering the nursery, we danced on the walls one of our best dances. To be sure it was mostly extemporized; but I managed to keep it in harmony by singing this song, which I made as we went on. Of course the children could not hear it; they only saw the motions that answered to it; but with them they seemed to be very much delighted indeed, as I shall presently prove to you. This was the song:—
‘Swing, swang, swingle, swuff,
Flicker, flacker, fling, fluff!
Thus we go,
To and fro;
Here and there,
Everywhere,
Born and bred;
Never dead,
Only gone.‘On! Come on.
Looming, glooming,
Spreading, fuming,
Shattering, scattering,
Parting, darting,
Settling, starting,
All our life
Is a strife,
And a wearying for rest
On the darkness’ friendly breast.‘Joining, splitting,
Rising, sitting,
Laughing, shaking,
Sides all aching,
Grumbling, grim, and gruff.
Swingle, swangle, swuff!‘Now a knot of darkness;
Now dissolved gloom;
Now a pall of blackness
Hiding all the room.
Flicker, flacker, fluff!
Black, and black enough!‘Dancing now like demons;
Lying like the dead;
Gladly would we stop it,
And go down to bed!
But our work we still must do,
Shadow men, as well as you.‘Rooting, rising, shooting,
Heaving, sinking, creeping;
Hid in corners crooning;
Splitting, poking, leaping,
Gathering, towering, swooning.
When we’re lurking,
Yet we’re working,
For our labour we must do,
Shadow men, as well as you.
Flicker, flacker, fling, fluff!
Swing, swang, swingle, swuff!’
“ ‘How thick the Shadows are!’ said one of the children—a thoughtful little girl.
“ ‘I wonder where they come from,’ said a dreamy little boy.
“ ‘I think they grow out of the wall,’ answered the little girl; ‘for I have been watching them come; first one and then another, and then a whole lot of them. I am sure they grow out of the walls.’
“ ‘Perhaps they have papas and mammas,’ said an older boy, with a smile.
“ ‘Yes, yes; and the doctor brings them in his pocket,’ said another, a consequential little maiden.
“ ‘No; I’ll tell you,’ said the older boy: ‘they’re ghosts.’
“ ‘But ghosts are white.’
“ ‘Oh! but these have got black coming down the chimney.’
“ ‘No,’ said a curious-looking, white-faced boy of fourteen, who had been reading by the firelight, and had stopped to hear the little ones talk; ‘they’re body ghosts; they’re not soul ghosts.’
“ ‘A silence followed, broken by the first, the dreamy-eyed boy, who said—
“ ‘I hope they didn’t make me;’ at which they all burst out laughing. Just then the nurse brought in their tea, and when she proceeded to light the gas, we vanished.”
“I stopped a murder,” cried another.
“How? How? How?”
“I will tell you. I had been lurking about a sickroom for some time, where a miser lay, apparently dying. I did not like the place at all, but I felt as if I should be wanted there. There were plenty of lurking-places about, for the room was full of all sorts of old furniture, especially cabinets, chests, and presses. I believe he had in that room every bit of the property he had spent a long life in gathering. I found that he had gold and gold in those places; for one night, when his nurse was away, he crept out of bed, mumbling and shaking, and managed to open one of his chests, though he nearly fell down with the effort. I was
