The Wagner Story Book | Page 2

things that I am always afraid to think what will be the next.
Perhaps she says that William Tell didn't shoot an apple off his little
boy's head, or that the baker's wife didn't box King Alfred's ears for
letting the cakes burn."
"Oh, no," said the child, "it isn't a bit like that; she says that you can see
pictures in the fire sometimes--men and horses and trees and all kinds
of things."
"Does she, indeed? And how does your mother know what I can see in
the fire or what I can't see?"
"Oh, I don't mean just you--yourself, I mean anybody. Now can you? I
mean can anybody?"
"Why, yes, if that is what you mean; I think some people can. It is the
most sensible thing I have known your mother to say in a long time."
"But how can anybody see such things? Can you see them? I have been
looking at the fire ever so long, and I can't see anything at all but just
the fire, the wood, and the ashes."
"Let us look at it together," I said; and I put a chair that was big enough
to hold both of us before the fireplace. "Just see how bright the fire is;
look down into those deep places under the sticks, and see how it glows
and shines like melted gold. Now, you know when you look into a
mirror you can see pictures of the things in front of it--your own face,
the walls of the room, the furniture. That is because the mirror is so
bright that it reflects these things; yet the mirror is not bright enough to
reflect anything except what is there before it, such things as you can
see with your eyes and touch with your hands. But the fire can do better
than that, for it is a great deal brighter than the mirror, and it is so
bright that it can reflect thoughts. So you must think of the pictures first,
and then, if you know just how to look for them in the fire, you will
find them reflected there, and after a little while you will be surprised at
the wonderful things you will see."
"I don't know what you mean at all," said the child; "tell me what you
can see in the fire now."
"Very well. Suppose, then, first, that you almost close your eyes, but

not quite, so that you will not see the fire so plainly, and it will all run
together and look dim and misty. When I look at it in that way it seems
to me to be fire no more, but water. It is as if we were down under a
broad, deep river, and could see all the mass of water slowly eddying
and whirling and flowing on above us, with just the little glow and
glimmer of brightness that come down from the daylight and the air
above. But there is one little spot that is brighter, right in the middle of
the fire, where you see that one little yellow flame all by itself. In my
picture, it is like a big lump of pure gold, resting on a point of rock that
stands straight up from the bottom of the river. It is really gold, and
magic gold at that, for you know wonderful treasures often lie at the
bottoms of rivers. One of the wonderful things about this gold is that, if
anybody could have a ring made of it, he could compel everybody else
to obey him and serve him, and could rule the whole world.
"Three forms I can see now moving backward and forward, and up and
down, and around and around about the gold. Now they grow a little
clearer. They are river nymphs, or something of the sort, and they are
here to guard the gold, lest anybody should try to steal it. It would not
be easy to steal, even if it had no guard, and knowing this has perhaps
made these pretty keepers a little careless about it, so that now, instead
of watching it very closely, they are swimming and diving and circling
about, trying to catch one another, having the jolliest time in the world,
and never thinking that there may be danger near."
"And you can see all those things in the fire?" said the little girl. "I can't
see any of them. How do you see them?"
"Just as I told you at first, by thinking of them and then seeing the
thoughts reflected there."
"Well, tell me some more."
"Look at that little dark spot under the fire. When I look at it in the way
I have told you, it is the form of a dwarf. He