Bedtime Tale: The Water Babies Ch 6/Part 1

Enjoy this bedtime tale to help you drift off into a peaceful slumber. Tonight we read Chapter 6/Part 1 of the classic, The Water Babies, by Charles Kingsley. This reading describes when Tom learns a lesson from an old acquaintance. This audio is perfect for children or adults who want to relax, discover magic, or find adventure before a great night's sleep.

Transcript

The Water Babies by Charles Kingsley Chapter 6,

Part 1 Here I come to the very saddest part of all my story.

I know some people will only laugh at it and call it much ado about nothing,

But I know one man who would not,

And he was an officer with a pair of grey mustaches as long as your arm,

Who said once in company that two of the most heart-rendering sights in the world,

Which moved him most to tears,

Which he would do anything to prevent or remedy,

Were a child over a broken toy and a child stealing sweets.

The company did not laugh at him.

His mustaches were too long and too grey for that,

But after he was gone,

They called him sentimental and so forth,

All but one dear little old Quaker lady with a soul as white as her cap,

Who was not,

Of course,

Generally partial to soldiers,

And she said very quietly like a Quaker,

Friends,

It is born upon my mind that this is truly a brave man.

Now you may fancy that Tom was quite good,

When he had everything that he could want or wish,

But you would be very much mistaken.

Being quite comfortable is a very good thing,

But it does not make people good.

Indeed,

It sometimes makes them naughty,

As it has made people in America,

And as it made the people in the Bible,

Who waxed fat and kicked like horses overfed and underworked.

And I am sorry to say that this has happened to little Tom,

For he grew so fond of the seabulls' eyes and sea lollipops that his foolish little head could think of nothing else,

And he was always longing for more,

And wondering when the strange lady would come again and give him some,

And what she would give him,

And how much,

And whether she would give him more than the others.

And he thought nothing but lollipops by day,

And dreamt of nothing else by night.

And what happened then?

Then he began to watch the lady to see where she kept the sweet things,

And began hiding,

And sneaking,

And following her about,

And pretending to be looking the other way,

Or going after something else,

Till he found out that she kept them in a beautiful mother-of-pearl cabinet,

Away in a deep crack of the rocks.

And he longed to go to the cabinet,

And yet he was afraid,

And then he longed again,

And was less afraid.

And at last,

By continual thinking about it,

He longed so violently that he was not afraid at all.

And one night,

When all the other children were asleep,

And he could not sleep for thinking of lollipops,

He stepped away among the rocks,

And got to the cabinet,

And behold,

It was open.

But when he saw all the nice things inside,

Instead of being delighted,

He was quite frightened,

And wished he had never come there.

And then he would only touch them,

And he did.

And then he would only taste one,

And then he did.

And then he'd only eat one,

And he did.

And then he would only eat two,

And then three,

And so on.

And then he was terrified lest she should come and catch him,

And began gobbling them down so fast that he did not taste them,

Or have any pleasure in them.

And then he felt sick,

And would have only one more,

And then only one more again,

And so on until he had eaten them all up.

All the while,

Close behind him,

Stood Mrs.

Be Done By As You Did.

Some people may say,

But why did she not keep her cupboard locked?

Well,

I know.

It may seem very strange,

But she never does keep her cupboard locked.

Everyone may go and taste for themselves,

And fare accordingly.

It is very odd,

But so it is,

And I'm quite sure that she knows best.

Perhaps she wishes people to keep their fingers out of the fire by having them burned.

She took off her spectacles,

Because she did not like to see too much,

And in her pity,

She arced up her eyebrows into her very hair,

And her eyes grew so wide that they would have taken in all the sorrows of the world and filled them with great big tears,

As they too often do.

But all she said was,

Ah,

You poor little dear,

You are just like all the rest.

But she said it to herself,

And Tom neither heard nor saw her.

Now,

You must not fancy that she was sentimental at all.

If you do,

And think that she's going to let you off,

Or me,

Or any human being when we do wrong,

Because she is too tender-hearted to punish us,

Then you will find yourself very much mistaken,

As many a man does every year and every day.

But what did the strange fairy do when she saw all her lollipops eaten?

Did she fly at Tom,

Grab him by the scruff of the neck,

Hold him,

Hurry him,

Hit him,

Poke him,

Pull him,

Pinch him,

Pound him,

Put him in the corner,

Shake him,

Slap him,

Set him on a cold stone to reconsider himself,

And so forth?

Not a bit.

You may watch her at work,

And if you know where to find her,

But you will never see her do that.

For if she had,

She knew quite well Tom would have fought,

And kicked,

And bit,

And said bad words,

And turned again that moment into a naughty little heathen chimney sweep,

With his hand,

Like Ishmael's of old,

Against every man,

And every man's hand against him.

Did she question him,

Hurry him,

Frighten him,

Threaten him to make him confess?

Not a bit.

You may see her,

As I said,

At her work often enough,

If you know where to look for her,

But you will never see her do that.

For if she had,

She would have tempted him to tell lies in his fright,

And that would have been worse for him,

If possible,

Than even becoming a heathen chimney sweep again.

No.

She leaves that for anxious parents and teachers,

Lazy ones some call them,

Who instead of giving children a fair trial,

Such as they would expect and demand for themselves,

Force them by fright to confess their own faults,

Which is so cruel and unfair that no judge on the bench dare do it to the wickedness thief or murderer,

For the good British law forbids it.

Aye.

And even punishes them to make them confess,

Which is so detestable a crime that it is never committed now,

Save by inquisitors and kings of Naples and a few other wretched people of whom the world is weary.

And then they say,

We have trained up the child in a way he should go,

And when we grow up he has departed from it.

Why then did Solomon say that he would not depart from it?

But perhaps the way of beating and hurrying and frightening and questioning was not the way that the child should go,

For it not even the way in which a colt should go if you want to break it in and make it a quite serviceable horse.

Some folks may say,

Ah,

But the fairy does not need to do that if she knows everything already.

True.

But if she did not know,

She would surely not behave worse than a British judge and jury,

And no more should parents and teachers either.

So she just said nothing at all about the matter,

Not even when Tom came next day with the rest for sweet things.

He was horribly afraid of coming,

But he was still more afraid of staying away,

Lest anyone should suspect him.

He was dreadfully afraid too,

Lest there should be no sweets,

As was to be expected.

He hadn't eaten all of them,

And lest then the fairy should inquire more who'd taken them.

But behold,

She pulled out just as many as ever,

Which astonished Tom and frightened him still more.

And when the fairy looked him full in the face,

He shook from head to foot.

However,

She gave him his little share like the rest,

And he thought within himself that she could not have found out.

But when he put the sweets into his mouth,

He hated the taste of them,

And they made him so sick that he had to get away as fast as he could.

And terribly sick he was,

And very cross and unhappy,

All the week after.

Then,

When the next week came,

He had his share again,

And again the fairy looked him full in the face,

But more sadly than she had ever looked.

And he could not bear the sweets,

But took them again in spite of himself.

And when Miss Do-As-You-Would-Be-Dumb-By came,

He wanted to be cuddled like the rest,

But she said very seriously,

I should like to cuddle you,

But I cannot.

You are so horny and prickly.

And Tom looked at himself,

And he was all over prickles,

Just like a sea egg.

Which was quite natural,

For you must know and believe that people's souls make their bodies just as snails make its shell.

I'm not joking,

My little man.

I am in serious,

Solemn earnest.

And therefore,

When Tom's soul grew all prickly with naughty tempers,

His body could not help growing prickly too,

So that nobody would cuddle him,

Or play with him,

Or even like to look at him.

What could Tom do now but go in a corner and cry?

And nobody would play with him,

And he knew full well why.

And he was so miserable all that week,

That when the ugly fairy came,

And looked at him once more full in the face,

More seriously and sadly than ever,

He could stand it no longer,

And thrust the sweet meats away,

Saying,

No,

I don't want any.

I can't bear them now.

And then burst out crying,

Poor little man,

And told Miss,

Be done by as you did,

Every word as it happened.

He was horribly frightened when he had done so,

For he expected her to punish him very severely.

But instead,

She only took him up and kissed him,

Which was not quite pleasant,

For her chin was very bristly indeed.

But he was so lonely hearted,

He thought that rough kissing was better than none.

I will forgive you,

Little man,

She said.

I always forgive everyone the moment they tell me the truth of their own accord.

Then will you take away all these nasty prickles?

That is a very different matter.

You put them there yourself,

And only you can take them away.

But how do I do that?

Asked Tom,

Crying afresh.

Well,

I think it's time for you to go to school,

So I shall fetch you a schoolmistress,

Who will teach you how to get rid of your prickles.

And so away she went.

Tom was frightened at the notion of a schoolmistress,

For he thought she would certainly come with a birch rod or a cane.

But he comforted himself at last that she might be something like the old woman in Vendale,

Which she was not in the least,

For when the fairy brought her,

She was the most beautiful little girl that ever was seen,

With long curls floating behind her like a golden cloud,

And long robes floating all around her like a silver one.

There he is,

Said the fairy.

You must teach him to be good,

Whether you like or not.

I know,

Said the little girl,

But she did not seem quite to like,

For she put her finger in her mouth and looked at Tom under her brows,

And Tom put his finger in his mouth and looked at her under his brows,

For he was horribly ashamed of himself.

The little girl seemed hardly to know how to begin,

And perhaps she would have never begun at all if poor Tom had not burst out crying and begged her to teach him to be good and to help him cure his prickles.

And at that she grew so tender-hearted that she began teaching him as prettily as ever child was taught in the world.

And what did the little girl teach Tom?

She taught him first what you have been taught ever since you said your first prayers at your mother's knees,

But she taught him more simply,

For the lessons in that world,

My child,

Have no such hard words in them as the lessons in this,

And therefore the water babies like them better than you like your lessons,

And long to learn them more and more.

And grown men cannot puzzle nor quarrel over their meaning,

As they do here on land,

For those lessons all rise clear and pure,

Like the test out of Overton Pool,

Out of the everlasting ground of all life and truth.

So she taught Tom every day in the week.

Only on Sundays she always went away home.

And the kind fairy took her place.

And before she had taught Tom many Sundays,

His prickles had vanished quite away,

And his smooth skin was clean again.

Dear me,

Said the little girl,

Why,

I know you now.

You're the very same little chimney sweep who came into my bedroom.

Dear me,

Cried Tom,

And I know you too now.

You are the very little white lady whom I saw in bed.

And he jumped at her,

And longed to hug and kiss her,

But did not,

Remembering that she was a lady born.

So he only jumped round and round her till he was quite tired.

And then they began telling each other all their story,

How he had gotten to the water,

And she had fallen over the rock,

And how he had swum down to the sea,

And how she had flown out the window,

And how this and that and the other,

Till it was all talked out.

And then they both began again,

And I can't say which of the two talked fastest.

And then they set to work at their lessons again,

And both liked them so well,

That they went on well till seven full years were past and gone.

You may fancy that Tom was quite content and happy all those seven years,

But the truth is he was not.

He had always one thing on his mind,

And that was where little Ellie went when she went home on Sundays.

To a very beautiful place,

She said.

But what was the beautiful place like,

And where was it?

Ah,

That it is just what she could not say,

And it is strange but true that no one can say,

And that those who have been oftenest in it,

Or even nearest to it,

Can say least about it,

And make people understand least what it is like.

There are a good many folks about the other end of nowhere,

Where Tom went afterwards,

Who pretend to know it from north to south,

As well as if they had been penny postmen there.

But as they are safe at the other end of nowhere,

Nine hundred and ninety-nine million miles away,

What they say cannot concern us.

But the dear,

Sweet,

Loving,

Wise,

Good,

Self-sacrificing people who really go there can never tell you anything about it,

Save that it is the most beautiful place in all the world.

And if you ask them more,

They grow modest and hold their peace for fear of being laughed at,

And quite right they are.

So all that good little Ellie could say was that it was worth all the rest of the world put together,

And of course that only made Tom the more anxious to go likewise.

Miss Ellie,

He said at last,

I will know why I cannot go with you when you go home on Sundays,

Or I shall have no peace and give you none either.

You must ask the fairies that.

So when the fairy,

Miss Be Done By As You Did,

Came next,

Tom asked her,

Little boys who are only fit to play with sea beasts cannot go there,

She said.

Those who go there must first go where they do not like,

And do what they do not like,

And then help someone they do not like.

Why?

Did Ellie do that?

Ask her.

And Ellie blushed and said,

Yes,

Tom,

I did not like coming here at first.

I was so much happier at home,

Where it's always Sunday.

And I was afraid of you,

Tom,

At first,

Because,

Because,

Because I was all over prickles.

But I'm not prickly now,

Am I,

Miss Ellie?

No,

Said Ellie.

I like you very much now,

And I like coming here too.

And perhaps,

Said the fairy,

You will learn to like going where you don't like,

And helping someone that you don't like,

As Ellie has.

But Tom put his finger in his mouth and hung his head down,

For he did not see that at all.

So when Miss Do As You Would Be Done By came,

Tom asked her,

For he thought in his little head,

She is not so strict as her sister,

And perhaps she may let me off more easily.

Ah,

Tom,

Tom,

Silly fellow.

And yet I don't know why I should blame you,

While so many grown people have got the very same notion in their heads.

But when they try it,

They get just the same answer as Tom did.

For when he asked the second fairy,

She told him just what the first one did,

And in the same words.

Tom was very unhappy at that,

And when Ellie went home on Sunday,

He fretted and cried all day,

And did not care to listen to the fairy's stories about good children,

Though they were prettier than ever.

Indeed,

The more he overheard of them,

The less he liked to listen,

Because they were all about children,

Who did what they did not like,

And took trouble for other people,

And worked to feed their little brothers and sisters,

Instead of caring only for their play.

And when she began to tell a story about a holy child in old times,

Who was martyred by the heathen because it would not worship idols,

Tom could bear no more,

And ran away,

And hid among the rocks.

And that is the end of our story this evening.

Until next time,

Sweet dreams.