In a dark forest, as the moonlight broke through the trees, a little firefly named Flick was darting to and fro. Flick lived with hundreds of others in a lovely green meadow where the grass was always fresh and the flowers always in bloom. Every night, when the hour approached for his pleasure-boating on the river, he would hurry home, light his little lamp, and then set out after his friends, who were always waiting for him. But on this particular night, Flick flew a little farther from home than he meant to, and, looking around, found that they had vanished and left him all alone in a dark forest.
The moon shone so brightly that he could see some distance ahead, but all around him were great shadows that looked mysterious and strange. “Surely,” he thought, “I shall find somebody to direct my course! It may be that some lecture will be given this evening, and could I but find my way there I would not only discover where my family have gone to, but also entertain myself until they return.” Up he flew, but whatever had been going on in the woods was over, for he saw not a single light, neither heard the voice of an insect anywhere. In his own neighborhood were no less than five hundred or a thousand lights that he might have approached without being regarded as a very curious insect, but here, on the other hand, he felt quite too self-important and important altogether.
It was very high in the air before he perceived a single light, but at last he caught sight of a faint, dim, yellow gleam about a hundred yards ahead. “That is very singular,” said he, “a light without a flicker.”
In vain Flick rubbed his eyes and flew up to it; the yellow light then appeared to be still yellow and still without a flicker. “Good evening,” said Flick, “I have lost my way, and so I am come to you, as a lighthouse, to request you will light up properly and give me some directions how to get to my port, and perchance even come with me so far on my course.”
The light then made a slight movement and said, “Little Flick, I wish I could, but I am a light in a lantern that stands by the side of a countrywoman who is now taking an evening promenade. I emanate from a candle that is lighted and stands securely at the bottom of the lantern.”
“So far, then, it is my duty to say good night to you and my lantern friend, and wish you a pleasant evening and cool air while you are taking your promenade, for that I could very willingly accompany you. If that should not be of use to you and you mean to return, then call out after me tonight, for I feel that I cannot go much farther, and tomorrow evening should much rather be taking a promenade than two or three journeys to and fro over mountains and valleys without being of any use to my friend while she is having her promenade.”
“My good friend,” replied Flick, “I am quite sure that I shall to-day be out sooner than you; if, then, you will hang your lantern in the east window, I shall be able to see it wherever it may be necessary for me to fly to in order to make inquiries, and I then hope that you may get home tomorrow evening without appearing fatigued.”
“My coming to ask aid from you was, indeed, but a trifle,” observed the firefly; “but I should do wrong to neglect so far as to fail giving you what little assist you may have wanted. How can I serve you?”
“Do me this little service,” said the lantern; “as soon as the sun sets shoot a little straw in the soft earth that is just at the side of the gate. When I see this straw I shall at once know that it is evening.”
Little Flick pledged his word; and divulged to his friend, who stood with bare feet and chest in her own hard swell of the fens, an account of the manner in which he lost his relatives; and so more and more distant points of his course were indicated until the sun rose anew.
From the forests the inhabitants of the meadow had been slowly but continually getting in; and now, towards the close of the morning, none at all seemed to arrive or remain behind, particularly as that number in the course of the night which had gone through their examination still remained quite well over endless new examination, which generally are about without a guide. Hence no symptoms without a guardian light appeared at the lawn gate.
Through night had dispersed wonderful and most innumerable guests only because it was sun-up.
Flick looked confusedly to all sides about him, for everything else, so far as the thousand and one pairs of eyes of the beetles which stood on his hedge did not directly stare at somebody, who could be everywhere but still never seen by anybody, was to be seen as black and silent as before, without any signs of Beetledom, and where one was standing over a moss-beasted stone the beetles tittered in a commanding spirit and whispered secret assemblies.