Algernon Blackwood by A Prisoner in Fairyland

explanation of the disasters he caused everywhere by his
disagreeable sharpness of speech and behaviour did
not
amuse them.
They observed as usual that it was 'too impossible'; the drawings,
moreover, did not quite convince:—
    So cutting was his speaking tone
Each phrase snipped off a button,
So sharp his words, they have been known
To carve a leg of mutton;
He shaved himself with sentences,
And when he went to dances,
He made—Oh shocking tendencies!-
Deep holes with piercing glances.
    But on the last page the Muddle Man behaved so badly, was so
positively indecent in his conduct, that he was persuaded to disappear
altogether; and his manner of extinguishing himself in the
illustration delighted the children far more than the verse whose fun
again escaped them:—
    They observed he was indecent,
But he said it wasn't true,
For
he
pronounced it 'in descent'—
Then disappeared from view!
    Mother's alleged 'second sight' was also attributed to the fact that
she 'looked twice before she leaped'—and the drawing of that leap
never failed to produce high spirits. For her calm and steady way of
walking—sailing—had earned her the name of the frigate—and this was
also illustrated, with various winds, all coloured, driving her along.
    The time passed happily; some one turned the lamp out, and Daddy,
regardless of expense—he had been grumbling about it ten minutes
before—heaped on the bricks of peat. Riquette, a bit of movable
furniture without which the room seemed incomplete, deftly slipped in
between the circle of legs and feet, and curled up upon Jinny's lap.
Her snoring, a wheezy noise that made Jimbo wonder 'why it didn't
scrape her,' was as familiar as the ticking of the clock. Old Mere
Riquette knew her rights. And she exacted them. Jinny's lap was one of
these. She had a face like an old peasant woman, with a curious snub
nose and irregular whiskers that betrayed recklessly the advance of
age. Her snores and gentle purring filled the room now. A hush came
over the whole party. At seven o'clock they must all troop over to the
Pension des Glycines for supper, but there was still an hour left. And
it was a magic hour. Sighs were audible here and there, as the
exhausted children settled deeper into their chairs.
    A change came over the atmosphere. Would nothing exciting ever happen?
    'The stars are out,' said Jimbo in his soft, gentle little voice,
turning his head towards the windows. The others looked too—all
except Mother, whose attitude suggested suspiciously that she slept,
and Riquette, who most certainly did sleep. Above the rampart of the
darkened Alps swung up the army of the stars. The brighter ones were
reflected in the lake. The sky was crowded. Tiny, golden pathways slid
down the purple walls of the night. 'Some one in heaven is letting
down the star-ladders...' he whispered.
    Jimbo's sentence had marked the change of key. Enchantment was abroad
—the Saturday evening spell was in the room.
    And suddenly a new enormous thing stirred in their father's heart.
Whence it came, or why, he knew not. Like a fire it rose in him deep
down, from very far away, delightful. Was it an inspiration coming, he
wondered? And why did Jimbo use that phrase of beauty about star-
ladders? How did it come into the mind of a little boy? The phrase
opened a new channel in the very depths of him, thence climbing up and
outwards, towards the brain.... And, with a thrill of curious high
wonder, he let it come. It was large and very splendid. It came with a
rush—as of numerous whispering voices that flocked about him, urging
some exquisite, distant sweetness in him to unaccustomed delivery. A
softness of ten thousand stars trooped down into his blood. Some
constellation like the Pleiades had flung their fiery tackle across
the dusk upon his mind. His thought turned golden....

Chapter VIII
*
    We are the stars which sing.
We sing with our light.
We are the birds of fire.
We fly across the heaven.
Our light is a star.
We make a