Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Magic City by E. Nesbit (the best books of all time .txt) 📖
- Author: E. Nesbit
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Three days later Mr. Noah arrived by elephant, and the meeting between him and the children is, as they say, better imagined than described. Especially as there is not much time left now for describing anything. Mr. Noah explained that the freeing of Polistopolis from the Pretenderette and the barbarians counted as the seventh deed and that Philip had now attained the rank of King, the deed of the Great Sloth having given him the title of Prince of Pine-apples. His expression of gratitude and admiration were of the warmest, and Philip felt that it was rather ungrateful of him to say, as he couldn't help saying:
'Now I've done all the deeds, mayn't I go back to Helen?'
'All in good time,' said Mr. Noah; 'I will at once set about the arrangements for your coronation.'
The coronation was an occasion of unexampled splendour. There was a banquet (of course) and fireworks, and all the guns fired salutes and the soldiers presented arms, and the ladies presented bouquets. And at the end Mr. Noah, with a few well-chosen words which[329] brought tears to all eyes, placed the gold crown of Polistarchia upon the brow of Philip, where its diamonds and rubies shone dazzlingly.
There was an extra crown for Lucy, made of silver and pearls and pale silvery moonstones.
You have no idea how the Polistarchians shouted.
'And now,' said Mr. Noah when it was all over, 'I regret to inform you that we must part. Polistarchia is a Republic, and of course in a republic kings and queens are not permitted to exist. Partings are painful things. And you had better go at once.'
He was plainly very much upset.
'This is very sudden,' said Philip.
And Lucy said, 'I do think it's silly. How shall we get home? All in a hurry, like this?'
'How did you get here?'
'By building a house and getting into it.'
'Then build your own house. Oh, we have models of all the houses you were ever in. The pieces are all numbered. You only have to put them together.'
He led them to a large room behind the hall of Public Amusements and took down from a shelf a stout box labelled 'The Grange.' On another box Philip saw 'Laburnum Cottage.'
Mr. Noah, kneeling on his yellow mat,[330] tumbled the contents of the box out on the floor, and Philip and Lucy set to work to build a house with the exquisitely finished little blocks and stones and beams and windows and chimneys.
'I cannot bear to see you go,' said Mr. Noah. 'Good-bye, good-bye. Remember me sometimes!'
'We shall never forget you,' said the children, jumping up hugging him.
'Good-bye!' said the parrot who had followed them in.
'Good-bye, good-bye!' said everybody.
'I wish the Lightning Loose was not lost,' Philip even at this parting moment remembered to say.
'She isn't,' said Mr. Noah. 'She flew back to the island directly you left her. Sails are called wings, are they not? White wings that never grow weary, you know. Relieved of your weight, the faithful yacht flew home like any pigeon.'
'Hooray!' said Philip. 'I couldn't bear to think of her rotting away in a cavern.'
'I wish Max and Brenda had come to say good-bye,' said Lucy.
'It is not needed,' said Mr. Noah mysteriously. And then everybody said good-bye again, and Mr. Noah rolled up his yellow mat, put it under his arm again, and went—for ever.[331]
The children built the Grange, and when the beautiful little model of that house was there before them, perfect, they stood still a moment, looking at it.
'I wish we could be two people each,' said Lucy, 'and one of each of us go home and one of each of us stay here. Oh!' she cried suddenly, and snatched at Philip's arm. For a slight strange giddiness had suddenly caught her. Philip too swayed a little uncertainly and stood a moment with his hand to his head. The children gazed about them bewildered and still a little giddy. The room was gone, the model of the Grange was gone. Over their heads was blue sky, under their feet was green grass, and in front stood the Grange itself, with its front door wide open and on the steps Helen and Mr. Peter Graham.
That telegram had brought them home.
You will wonder how Lucy explained where she had been when she was lost. She never did explain. There are some things, as you know, that cannot be explained. But the curious thing is that no one ever asked for an explanation. The grown-ups must have thought they knew all about it, which, of course, was very far from being the truth.
When the four people on the doorstep of the[332] Grange had finished saying how glad they were to see each other—that day on the steps when Philip and Lucy came back from Polistarchia, Helen and Mr. Peter Graham came back from Belgium—Helen said:
'And we've brought you each the loveliest present. Fetch them, Peter, there's a dear.'
Mr. Peter Graham went to the stable-yard and came back followed by two long tan dachshunds, who rushed up to the children frisking and fawning in a way they well knew.
'Why Max! why Brenda!' cried Philip. 'Oh, Helen! are they for us?'
'Yes, dear, of course they are,' said Helen; 'but how did you know their names?'
That was one of the things which Philip could not tell, then.
But he told Helen the whole story later, and she said it was wonderful, and how clever of him to make all that up, and that when he was a man he would be able to be an author and to write books.
'And do you know,' she said, 'I did dream about the island—quite a long dream, only when I woke up I could only remember that I'd been there and seen you. But no doubt I dreamed about Mr. Noah and all the rest of it as well, only I forgot it.'
[333]
And Max and Brenda of course loved every one. Their characters were quite unchanged. Only the children had forgotten the language of animals, so that conversation between them and the dogs was for ever impossible. But Max and Brenda understand every word you say—any one can see that.
You want to know what became of the redheaded, steely-eyed nurse, the Pretenderette, who made so much mischief and trouble? Well, I suppose she is still living with the Halma folk, teaching the Great Sloth to like his work and learning to be fond of people—which is the only way to be happy. At any rate no one that I know of has ever seen her again anywhere else.
THE END[1] Never mind grammar.
[2] This is correct grammar, but never mind.
Macmillan & Co.'sNew Books for the Young
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A smaller edition, issued at a popular price, of Charles Kingsley's famous work, so charmingly illustrated and interpreted by Mr. Warwick Goble's drawings. The large edition was one of the most successful of the illustrated works published in the Autumn of 1909, and went rapidly out of print.
MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd., LONDON. Macmillan & Co.'s
New Books for the Young
MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd., LONDON.
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will appear.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Magic City, by Edith Nesbit
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