"You should remember, my dear critic, that fairies never yet claimed to be perfect beings. They are very far from being angels, and are decidedly of the earth, earthy. You know that the inferior specimens of the race--the vulgar fairies--delight in playing tricks upon careless housekeepers, spilling their cream and spoiling their butter: that is not very angelic, I'm sure. Of course, the Queen would be too dignified and too spiritual for such frolics; but she could not understand much about human nature, or child-nature, and especially she would think the affections to be great nonsense. But she has bought her experience now, with Rudolph." "One comfort is, that she does not intend to take another child to educate--she has had enough!" said Amy. "She could not, if she would," replied Mary. "I think the day has now come, foreseen by the prophetic owl, 'When iron monsters, with breath of flame, Shall blot from earth the fairy name.'" "Steam engines and locomotives?" said Louis. "Nothing else," replied Ellen. "I do not doubt in the least that the whole of that Fairy Wood has been carefully surveyed and graded, and iron tracks run directly through the palace itself." "Oh what a shame!" cried Harry. "'Tis very sad, indeed, to have all romance spoiled in this way," said Mrs. Wyndham. "But we have a modern substitute for the magic of Elfdom--this very steam-engine, which works such wonders; the electric telegraph, which beats time itself, making news depart from Philadelphia for St. Louis, and reach its destination an hour before it started, if you may believe the clock. And some of those toys, originally invented by the Fairy Queen, if we may credit Ellen--the telescope, bringing down the moon so near to you, that you feel inclined to take a long step, and place yourself in another planet--and photography, which enables you in one moment to possess upon metal or paper an exact fac-simile of your friend. If these things do not surpass all we read of in Fairy Land, I know nothing about it." "I have one very serious objection to your Fairy Queen, Cousin Ellen," said Charlie Bolton, trying to keep a long, sober face. "What is that? Poor Queen, how she is criticised! If she were here, she would show her temper now, I think!" "She is such a horrid _blue_. It's all very well for her to dance, and mix the rainbow, and sprinkle the dew upon her flowers, and wear the evening star on her forehead, if she does not find its weight oppressive--that's all feminine enough. But when she tries to come over us as an _esprit fort_--a strong-minded woman--it's rather too much. Oxygen and hydrogen, and all the _ologies_--I never can stand that sort of thing in a woman." "Just as if we had not a right to knowledge as well as the lords of the creation! And besides, I want to know, Master Charlie, which is the most disgusting--for a woman to lisp learning, or for a man to talk politics, as the creatures will do!"