The Gold Thread and Wee Davie: Two Stories for the Young

Once upon a time, a boy lost his way in a vast forest that filled many a valley and passed over many a hill—a rolling sea of leaves for miles and miles, farther than the eye could reach. His name was Eric, son of the good King Magnus. He was dressed in a blue velvet dress, with a gold band round his waist, and his fair locks in silken curls waved from his beautiful head. He was a lovely boy, and if you looked into his large blue eyes, and saw his sweet smile, you would say in your heart, “There is a boy so winning and brave and true, that I would dearly like to have him as a friend and companion.” But, alas! his hands and face were scratched, and his clothes torn with the briars, as he ran here and there like one much perplexed. Sometimes he made his way through tangled brushwood, or crossed the little grassy plains in the forest, now losing himself in dark ravines, then climbing up their steep sides, or crossing with difficulty the streams that hurried through them. For a long time he kept his heart up, and always said to himself, “I shall find it, I shall find it;” until, as the day advanced, he was wearied and hungry; and every now and then he cried, “Oh, my father! where is my father? I’m lost! I’m lost!” And “Where, oh, where is my gold thread?”

All day the forest seemed to him to be very sad. He had never seen it so gloomy. There was a strange sadness in the rustle of the leaves, and a sadness in the noise of the streams. He did not hear the birds sing as they used to do. But he heard the ravens croak with their hoarse voice, as their black forms swept along the precipices which here and there rose above the forest, and he never saw so many large hawks wheeling in the sky. They always appeared to be wheeling over his head, pausing, and fluttering as if about to dart down upon him. But on he journeyed, in the hope of finding his way out of the boundless forest, or of meeting some one who would be his guide. At last the sun appeared to be near its setting, and he could see the high branches of the trees shining like gold, as its rays from the west fell upon them. But underneath, the forest was getting darker and darker, and all the birds were preparing to sleep, and everything at last became so still that he could hear his steps echoing through the wood, and if he stopped, he heard his heart beating, or a leaf falling; but nowhere did he see a house, and no human being had he met since morning. Then the wind suddenly began to rise, and he heard it at first creeping along the tree-tops like a gentle whisper, and by-and-by to call louder and louder for the storm to come. Dark clouds gathered over the sky, and rushed along chased by the winds, that were soon to search the forest and fight with the old trees. No wonder if the boy began to fear, in case some evil would happen to him. Not that he was a coward, but a very bravehearted boy; but he had done wrong, and it was that which made him afraid.