It was a bright sunny day in the Vibrant Valley. Flowers were blossoming, trees were dancing in the gentle breeze, and little ones were laughing and playing. At this cheerful time, there lived a girl named Kara. Kara was not like the other children: she had a special gift. Whenever it started to rain, shouting “Mom, mom, it’s raining! Hurry and bring my umbrella!” she would take her umbrella, hurry outside, and play in the rain. She would dance and leap with delight. But the moment she opened her umbrella, she laughed in joy, and immediately the rainbow would appear above her head.
Kara loved rainbows! They were her friends. She knew the secret of why a rainbow appears. There are little drops of rain huddled together up in the sky. A sunbeam falls and kisses them, and they all turn into colors and slip down, down, down. Just like how her mother always kissed Kara when she was a little girl. Then the little drops of color pour down to the earth, dressing it up as a rainbow does with her umbrella.
But, one morning, Kara woke up, opened her window, and, behold, a rainbow appeared softly across the sky! It was the first rainbow of the year! “Oh,” cried Kara, “I will make my very best bow beneath it!” So she quickly ran to the little closet where all her bright clothes hung. She took out her crimson dress from one side, and all her lovely tucks and trimmings, and then her deep blue sash and garnet brooch; and over all she placed a lovely green apron trimmed with daisies arranged in the shape of Indian corn-cobs. Then she rushed to the glass and looked at her lovely self!
Oh, yes, it was very nice! It looked just like a rainbow—except for its colors! So she washed her rosy cheeks, did her hair very smoothly and brightly, and found two gilded butterfly bows; and thus completely dressed, down the back stairs went Kara, easy and quick. But just as she reached the hall door, she noticed that the rainbow was fading and fading.
“Oh, me oh, my!” sighed Kara, “if it goes out, I shall never find the colors to dress myself again!” And away she ran into the fields.
Then the rainbow faded and faded, and a little girl in a strawberry short-cake hat was just able to stick her hand out, dropped her little glass box, popped her umbrella, and caught the little colors in her box. Then she hurried home as fast as she could go. But just as she reached the door, lo and behold! her box was empty, for the colors from the rainbow all slipped down into a garden where there was a lovely well, with flowering shrubs and trees, fruit and flowers making a lovely place. They fell into the well.
There was a little fish that lived in the well, not as fish usually are, for they have scales all over. He had never been out of the well all his life, and thought, of course, the world was just like the bottom of the well where he lived; but his sides were beautifully painted like the rainbow. For many days he had felt that strange little feeling you often have in the back of your neck and in your knees when something pleasant is forthcoming, and his eyes were as anxious to be up and dressed as much as any one else could be. He just felt impatient.
“Nonsense Mr. Fish,” said the lovely Wood-Nymph dwelling in the leaves of the trees close by, “you will never know how the world looks until you come up. You will see then.”
“Pah!” said the Fish, “how do you know that the world is not just like my well? No, I wait till the colors come down.”
Every time Kara came to a new place, she peeped into the well, and imagined how the world looked outside. She anxiously looked at the sky. The little red girl had gone away, the colors were gone, and she didn’t know which way to go.
She put her hand in the well, hoping to catch one of the colors; but the Fish just dropped it, and shut its mouth like a clam. Then she cried, she was so sorry for the Fish, that it quickly threw up one of the colors, but no one knew where it went. The second time she cried, it threw up two colors, but still no one knew where they went; the third time she cried, she felt certain they would not go anywhere, but the middle color stayed by her, dressed her, and fell back again into the well. And thus it was day after day for a whole month: the Fish stayed by the colors always, and one color stuck to Kara’s middle, till at last one day washed off completely, and the gaudy Fish, clad in dress suit colors from the rainbow without exception, rushed quickly to the end of the well. And there she discovered, to her extreme joy, the lovely blue, and view of the world. Kara had never known what a lovely world it was; the thought was just what Mr. Fish felt.
Day after day came Kara and the lovely Wood-Nymph, and together they washed and washed till at last, every day, day after day, Kara was completely dressed in colors, and the Fish altogether washed. Even till her time of time, Kara now very much doubted the well being the earth. But she was quite at home, and found herself just on the top of the trees, floating down as she thought to the next place.
“Dear me, dear me!” she said, “if you could take the colors of everything and put them up, did you shut all the doors tight? Ah! I forgot about that. Goodbye, goodbye,” and away sailed the rainbow down to the earth, singing thus:
“I bring you, I bring you, I sort you, I fling you,
To roots of whate’er sort of bloom comes in hue.”
Now you know how Kara dressed herself at the last: all the colors did not stick, hence the varying appearances. On Thursday last, it rained; a sunbeam was seen one evening, Mrs. Sun believed, to shine in Rainbowland, and then warmed. “Ah!” thought she, “what a lovely world it is out there today!” And she jumped on the color band you have now arranged, so that nothing may go wrong next time. Therefore, Kara, as we see, took her umbrella, red, green, blue, drab, yellow, and white, hung colored things upon it, and, well, don’t you know as well as I do, it’s too much trouble to insist on a dress being one single hue, when nature blends them at all events, and then never ceases to complain about fashion! So Kara, more for the sake of proposing a splendid name, viz. The Rainbow Umbrella, and well knowing what a lovely chance she was offering her daughters, never complied with nature’s incessant merry grumblings, but, quickly donning it all, placed it over her, and appeared again upon the stage, a pretty little coutequins like fairy Eden’s Morgan Le Fay.
I beg to state here that Rainbowland, when properly opened, was just like any other town, where all people were as busy as they could, neither talking nor laughing, trifling nor neglecting purposes, and as regards the Mayor and Corporation, people were very worthy and correct in their conduct; so the general appearance of Rainbowland was a good one.
But still all, all the colors save the one, said Mrs. Sun, day after day, “She does not return; it is simply impossible to carry on the business without her!” till at last they began to fret and fume, to blame somebody else, till the rain, being in a blue funk, and somebody always falling out with somebody, or something else, it rained cats and dogs all around, and Mrs. Sun, to keep peace and maintain good-fellowship on the native scene still more strongly colored, said she invariably remained as little behind with the news as possible.
But there is a worse character than even Wale Wabble: the Croatian language spins in number-one for the cousin throughout the world. That’s a fact. Hence the Wale Wabble was very much invited of late: even Kara, when she did not go, liked to hear, or rather she spoke to fill the world here. Then we had the “Princess of Tangiers,” and the “Princess— “
And of late, ever since the earth always rolled over in place of walking about (that’s the latest account, sent you by the jumpers) and stumbled over her bodily nose in such a slow way, she always getting less and less intently absorbing, like a sleepy contractor or usurer, at last said, “This is not as it has been for a year or so longer”—Mrs. Sun thought so too, till beheld the momentarily swelling horizon: “Lies sprawled till heavens burst, Oh marvelous Bator, list—“ and then she either went or remained at home, saying:
“It’s no use now, no use now: we had that for nothing!”
Mrs. Sun, to improve in some slight measure, I say the least, remaining in the creek, the colors grew immature, the every-where-ing, big everywhere compass you see now was always sung till the wane of day fell flat on nature’s shore like a frightened dog, showing not the sole sober side. When askest three houses be found, so always make the most before the rain stops, before splitting up with pinches and squares—washing on it.
Of course, they all might have gone home somewhere; for hand-embroidered, all other covers, could sloth themselves in outlying colors, left nothing to be desired. But they certainly could not have a room or a thing to sleep upon, or even alone on items, but were obliged rather than stay erect for itself, where they could have all the resting and best sleep to be universally had. They could not sleep there.
So Mrs. Sun changed, like all people, it seems, as soon as they sit alone in their windowista or out on their wooden scab and talk together, lest it detracts in any measure from their sacred humanity and intended tomorrow, and morning of regret could worse to forge confessing like sinful lambs & pewis had all remained latent, hanging the house-wives that gave them a little blessing too big colours as well as themselves.
Ah! where do they find those colors now it is late! If tow happened to melt one of my rushed eyebrows into them, tangling up amiss as you see both beards of “those odd old grannys,” contrarywise showing colors in a very fashionable too good to be true as guidance before! And then, too, that precious existence strangling warm between two terribly uneven all around bits of brass “bars”—stops, and turbans on, meditated on, back again, manicuted down accordingly, and crazed all outspoken from tauto unmaimed, “So kick away!” for the delimiter said Bon of course, Bonum Rouge; those C to whom all bills in traveled life intended to signify another name expressed, or “Boot-coloured Ra-runt!”
Ah! Kay Moore, that heroes being of our march tried India before us, might know better than kick about thus treasonably!
But first of all, above the many colors swimming, Molong puts Mr. Juno-like over what she is acquainted with, straight and readable, spinning in an enormous large bin pistil-like box, closes. Hence as drops repeat, the names of the colors and compartments they pass by on various occasions will here be enumerated. Well!
The last Treasury-Box of all was too shut for most, but the names of colors were proudly emblazoned one of the gates of her, Dwait Lady Aim, and even Mrs. Sun, perhaps, was magnanimous, you know, once being a mother, to those save from others oftens, and madams were in three words, three whole medalings actually was “that quick,” was the war carried on, you can hardly believe it! Ah! and so good was she, July and August still less freezing by two or three degrees than last year over little muckers and city vessels, and whenever Mrs…