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Updated: May 25, 2025
"I may not be able to see anything by this light, not even the glint of gold beneath the clear waters. But he seemed to see. He looked down and muttered, 'Safe safe! Beshrew me but I trow I have the secret now! The pixies' well the hidden secret it guards so well. All is true! all is true! Why did I not think of it before?"
So the fairies, and knooks, and pixies, and ryls all escorted the good man to his castle, and there left him to talk over the events of the night with his little assistants.
Well, the old woman died, and the tulip-bed was pulled up and a parsley-bed made in its place. But the Pixies blighted it, and nothing grew in it; but they kept the grave of the old woman quite green, never suffered a weed to grow upon it, and in spring-time they always spangled it with wild-flowers.
Only the genii of the hidden earth held the secret; and modern science derides the invisible pixies of superstition, just as these invisible spirits of the earth seem to laugh at man's best efforts to ferret out their secrets. What became of the lucky prospectors? I have talked with some of them on the lower reaches of the Cariboo Road.
The western Slavs in general and the sons of Czech in particular, had their flights of fairies, sprites, pixies and other lovable immortals. They are here still; even I, a stranger, claim to have heard them in "den heiteren Regionen, wo die reinen Formen wohnen," on the sun-kissed snow of the mountains, in the whispering voices of the forest and the song of the burn in the glen.
"Woodland nymphs, phantom pixies floating on the wind, zephyrs in the guise of fairies, dreams come true, my dear Olga, you are a sorceress. You change clods into moonbeams, you turn human beings into vapours, you cast the mantle of enchantment over the midsummer night, and we see Oberon, Titania and all the rest of them disporting on the breeze.
All the moor was alive with tiny pixies, whose green garments were like moving fronds of fern. They crowded eagerly round her. "It's Ginnifer!" they said. "Ginnifer who lives in the stone hut on the moor! Ginnifer who tended the plover with the broken wing, and watered the harebells that were withering in the burning sun, and who treads so lightly that the birds don't trouble to fly away from her.
Like most phantasms, the modern pixies are silent and elusive. They appear and disappear with equal abruptness, contenting themselves with merely gliding along noiselessly from rock to rock, or from bush to bush. Dainty they are not, pretty they are not, and in stature only do they resemble the pixie of fairy tales; otherwise they are true vagrarians, grotesque and often harrowing.
Santa Claus lives in the Laughing Valley, where stands the big, rambling castle in which his toys are manufactured. His workmen, selected from the ryls, knooks, pixies and fairies, live with him, and every one is as busy as can be from one year's end to another. It is called the Laughing Valley because everything there is happy and gay.
For myself I offer no explanation; but I guarantee the substantial accuracy of what I have stated above." Professor Barrett, in the paper to which we have already referred, draws certain conclusions from his study of this subject; one of the chief of these is that "the widespread belief in fairies, pixies, gnomes, brownies, etc., probably rests on the varied manifestations of poltergeists."
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