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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 14, Issue 1 (April 1, 1939)

Adventures with Bingo By Aroha Bruce — Part III. — The Crystal Ball. — (Concluded.)

page 45

Adventures with Bingo By Aroha Bruce
Part III.
The Crystal Ball.
(Concluded.)

The Glass-blower's Palace.

The Glass-blower's Palace.

“We're off to the Land of Blue Mist, to visit the Maker of Dreams,” said Bingo.

The little train raced on—over hills, through tunnels, across bridges, and down dales—such a jolly ride it was. Presently they came to the foot of a tall blue mountain, and then the train stopped.

“Terminus! All change, please!” called the guard.

“What do we change to?” asked Peter.

“Our legs, we're off up the slope.”

The little train went shunting round the loop, then puffing back the way it had come. The two began to climb. Looking up, Peter saw that a blanket of thick, blue mist hid the top of the mountain. It was lying low down the sides, in long, trailing wisps. As they climbed, it came nearer and nearer, and presently it was all about them, and everything else was hidden from view. It was not wet like ordinary mist, but soft and warm, and if seemed infused with a soft blue light.

Out of the mist there loomed a dark shape.

“That is the mouth of the Dream-maker's Cavern,” said Bingo.

“We go in at the door of the Bad dreams, and come out at the door of the Good.”

It was almost dark, and very weird in the Bad Dream Cavern. The walls were made of thick, blue fog, that gave out a faint bluish light.

Sitting on the floor and stirring a steaming black pot, was an old wrinkled woman, without any teeth, and with long wispy hair. She was muttering strange words, and her beady black eyes were shining with wicked delight.

She leaned forward and dropped something into the pot.

“Two frog's tails, an ant's tooth, and five purple mice,” she chanted.

“That'll teach ‘im. Heh! Heh! Heh!” in a high cackling laugh.

Her' pot began bubbling and boiling, and the steam rose up in a queer, ugly shape.

“What are you doin' here?” she shrieked, catching sight of Peter.

“Oh! it's you again, you meddlin' monkey,” as Bingo gave her a bow.

“Always bringin' visitors when a body is busy. I'm making bad dreams, and blood curdlin' nightmares for the folks that deserve ‘em, down on the earth. That last was one for a brat who'd been hurtin' a poor sick cat—put ‘im in a blue funk it will.” And she cackled again at the thought.

The pot started boiling again, and the old woman began muttering her chant.

“Let's get out of here,” whispered Bingo, “she's not in a very good temper—never is in fact—gets too upset by the curelty of people down on the earth. Let's try the Good Dream-maker.”

Making their way through the thick blue fog, they entered another big cavern. The light in this cavern was beautifully clear, and the walls were of soft white mist. Seated on top of a fluffy white cloud was a beautiful lady in blue. She was looking far out into space, and a pleasing smile spread over her kind sweet face.

“She's the Dream Lady,” said Bingo, “whenever she smiles, a sweet dream floats down to the earth, and little children laugh as they doze, and sick folk sleep.”

“Has she ever sent me a dream?” asked Peter.

“Quite often I guess,” said Bingo.

At his words, the Dream Lady turned her head and smiled at Peter. Raising her long, white hand, she stroked his hair, but she did not speak.

“Come away,” said Bingo.

“She's far too busy to-day,” and they slipped outside by the door of the Good Dream Cavern.

Outside, the mist seemed bluer than ever. At the mouth of the cavern, hanging down out of space, was a long crystal ladder, only part of which could be seen, for the top part was hidden in mist.

“That comes from the Glass-blower's Palace,” said Bingo. “I think we've got time to go up.”

And they both started climbing, hand over hand—the rungs of the ladder making sweet tinkling sounds as they climbed.

Presently the blue mist was left behind, and they came out into clear, blue sky. In front of them floated a huge pink cloud, on which stood a beautiful palace, with crystal turrets and domes, shining bright in the sun.

“This is the Glass-blower's home,” said Bingo.

They entered the spacious glass door,
(Thelma R. Kent, photo.) A penguin at Jack's Bay, Southland.

(Thelma R. Kent, photo.)
A penguin at Jack's Bay, Southland.

page 46 and were met by a little old man in a black velvet gown, and a tall pointed hat like a wizard's. His face was round and fat, and his hands were as white as a lily.

“Good day to you, sir,” said Bingo, “if you're really not busy, we would like to be shown all the things that you've blown.”

The old man's eyes shone with pleasure. He was proud of his work—all made by himself out of glass, with his queer blow-pipe.

“This way, young sirs, this way,” he said, leading them into a spacious pink hall with transparent walls.

In the hall were rows of glass tables, on which stood the strangest collection—little glass ships with set sails, wee model ‘planes, a coach and six horses, small dancing figures, big moths and strange birds, and all kinds of dishes, all made out of glass.

“I saw a glass-blower once, at the show,” said Peter, “but he did not have wonderful things like these.”

“Some of these things have a very strange power,” said the old Glass-blower. “Now, just look at these,” and he pointed to where stood a row of glass balls, all sizes, on their little glass stands.

“Gazing crystals, they're called—some people see pictures inside—pictures of things that will come,” he said.

“May I look inside one?” asked Peter.

“Why, of course my son, just lean over there.”

Peter let out a cry of delight.

“I can see mummy and daddy,” he said, “and daddy is holding her hand, and they're smiling, and watching me ride on a scooter.”

“Ah! that is one of the things to come,” the old man said.

“Good gracious!” cried Bingo, looking out of a window, “the sun is just setting—that means that the cocks will be crowing on the other side of the mountains. How could I have left it so late? I'll never get back to the moon in time.” And he looked in despair at Peter.

“Don't worry, get back to your ‘plane and away. I know how to send home your young friend here,” said the old Glass-blower.

“That's fine,” said Bingo. “In that case, I'll just about make it.”

With a hasty good-bye he was off.

“You, I'll send back in a large crystal bubble,” the old man said, and opening a door in the wall, he showed Peter the end of a large bubble-pipe, and told him to crawl up inside, and shut his eyes.

This Peter did. Then he felt a cold wind blow across him—he knew he was rising—and opening his eyes, found himself sitting inside of a large crystal bubble, floating away through space. He shut his eyes again. Presently he felt a hard bumb, and there was a sound of breaking glass, as if the bubble had burst, and he opened his eyes to find himself back in bed, and his mother's voice saying, “Oh! Peter, you've broken your drinking glass, dear. But never you mind, I will tell you some news. The doctor is coming to-day to look at your back, and you know what that may mean.”

Peter knew and was happy. He was thinking of what he had seen in the crystal ball, and his wish in the Rainbow Cave.