Do you believe that wishes can come true? I always thought so, especially on the night of the Lantern Festival when dreams and hopes float like stars into the sky.
This particular evening, as I stood beneath the great whispering willow in the heart of our little village, I held my breath in excitement. Lanterns of every hue and shape bloomed all around me, bright lamps swinging gently on delicate threads, and my own creation—one in the shape of a giant Ladybird—was the answer to my long hour’s labor.
“Are you ready with your wish, Jenny?” murmured a voice close by. It was Thomas, my loyal friend, and confederate in all my past adventures.
I smiled, taking a fleeting glance at the long path that led to our village. Everybody I knew—Father, Grandmother, and all my little friends—were there; and further off was that wilderness of dark trees, stretching, stretching into the unknown, far away beyond the river, and deep down into the valleys.
“Oh, if I only had everything!” I exclaimed almost involuntarily.
My eyes sparkled with visions of baby brother, country cousins, and little townspeople—everyone with their long-coveted presents, celebrating the joyous festival. But my earnestness only made my wish more fatal. I might have remembered Father telling me not to be in such haste, and Thomas would have liked à propos to have repeated the same comfortable truth; but listening to the movements of the throng, I peeped out of my house and the temptation was too powerful. At last the great bell of the church began to ring—they must be calling out for us now!
I hastily filled my lantern with a lighted candle and, giving a hasty look to the four directions of the heavens, set it afloat.
Is there anything to remember about the moon outside? Why, it looks like a long thin knife at present I had nearly forgotten it!
We fled out into the crowd, and going round and round I found everybody wishing before they launched their lanterns. The small children went on their knees and said an “Our Father”; the schoolboys puffed out their breath amidst little scraps of black paper; the young parents laid their babies in the moon’s rays and kissed them. But the course of my wishes was already taken and I could only launch them unnoticed among the rest.
It was hard work threading through the crowd, for my heavy tambourine kept pulling me backward. Thomas was showing John Paul how to manage the paper lantern without a holder. As I joined them to try what could be done with the ribbon, our neighbors were so excited that dozens of wishes came floating along with us. “Jenny! take care of Jenny!” I heard John Paul say, but we were close to the bank when down the deep river fell my ribbons and lighted lantern, hissing and sputtering like a firecracker.
I gave a sudden scream, and plumped down at full length upon the green turf, with Thomas in the water at my side; but the sight that I then saw was strangely enough enough to dispel my sobs.
The great mound of white floating lamps was continually increasing in size, either cast down from the bridge above or coming wavelike from the bank on all sides of us. Suddenly, the longing I had felt for the president, poor Grandfather, came over me fresh again, and for the third time I repeated my ungracious wish. It would be so beautiful! There was just a glimmer on the water as if some one had thrown a steel tumbler down in it when lo! out came an odd slap-slap sound from somewhere beneath and a great white blink seemed to contradict, not only the time of day, but our very natures.
“What are they doing?”
“Man overboard!” cried out Thomas, throwing himself into the river out of our small boat.
With great difficulty they lowered him down the black temperature of our ugly mud and mire. That was Friday morning; we were all drawn out, and after that police officers put a finger on ourselves. I stood for a moment in our own dreary room looking down into the empty utensils where the sunshine always danced on the bottles whenever I began washing the cups. I felt so very disconsolate.
But as I struggled to remember scarcely anything of the preamble the heart of my promise returned and blessed me. It was indeed very much richer than what I had lost; the gentleman had to give me a part of his deep pleasure in making sure of a good home for ever after. How generous our dear thoughts and deeds are when they travel forth shining like so many stars!
And over there on the floor, (which so much wanted washing) lay pretty baby-boy in a gentle sleep, with Grandmother’s loving smile peeping out through the little White Chapel that had been opened to receive him and the first mass said each morning for his welfare.
But if only, alas! he knew the tragedy of his existence! I cannot very well tell you all at present. The secret is, he is not my Grandfather, and it is very unlucky that together with his other excellent qualities, he appears to have inherited all the childish whims and varieties from that horrid fictitious number. I cannot talk about it any longer.
So without me seeing him, Grandmother assured me he is never delirious; from that time he began displaying other queer traits and differences. Little by little, and voluntarily as long as they could, each one we knew withdrew his own help. There was no possibility of following the guidance of a butcher always saying accompaniments and sauces.
Next came our nearest neighbors, but they are now far away. Then we are left captive to the Police Board, who treat with justice, no doubt, and prove affability. And after having lugged all the obtained proceeds to us, retain half as a charge of admission, and then refuse to dismiss us down the river. I am afraid I have left out police and soldiers.
However, we lead a tranquil and easy-bred life. They don’t imprison us during the night, and we can roam about during its lasting hours. One day I even wrote to our poor simple landlord, but the letter which came back was quite full of walls, moats, towers, and everything a castle need contain.
But what grieves me most in getting up, is that baby-boy does not appear to arrive at wholesome notions. Would you like to hear a piece that I made on it the other morning?
“Hear me! see me! know what I am,
I’d fain reveal by deeds not word my height.
I’m blessed; believe suppose I famished die—
Then anguish me,
I might—
Or not good place attain.”
It really might do better!
Do you believe people’s wishes can come true? It is always the same thing, ungrateful wishes, when once agreed to seem really dotted upon the paper.