Title: No-Time-Land
Author: Fulton, M. J. C.
Language: English
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[Illustration]



                                       No-Time-Land . .


                            A STORY
                              FOR . . .
                            GIRLS AND BOYS.


                                           . BY .
                                      M. J. C. FULTON.


                  Tasmania:
 PRINTED AT THE EXAMINER OFFICE, LAUNCESTON.
                     1901.



[Illustration]


              To all my dear little Nephews, Nieces, and
              other little boys and girls, this Story is
              dedicated, trusting they will derive both
              amusement and profit from its pages.

              Wishing them all a “Happy New Century.”

              From their affectionate Aunt and Friend,

                                        MARY J. C. FULTON.

              LEITH,
                TASMANIA,
                  DECEMBER, 1900.


[Illustration]



                       A STORY OF NO-TIME-LAND.


                            [Illustration]


                              CHAPTER I.


“Guy, come and play with me.”

“Oh! I can’t, Tina, I have no time; I am going fishing soon with Urie
Cass.”

“Oh, dear!” said the little voice; “you never get time, Guy, to have a
game.”

“Cannot you have one game with her, sonny!” said his mother; “the wee
girlie is dull playing by herself all day.”

“But mother, dear, I have no time now,” and so saying, Guy shouldered
his fishing rod and walked off.

But his mother’s sad, grieved expression seemed to haunt him all day,
and his little sister’s voice echoed so in his ears, that the fishing
was not altogether such an enjoyable time as he expected. He got back
tired and hungry, and soon after tea he was glad to go to bed.

He was just dropping off to sleep, when his eyes seemed to wander
to the open window, where the moonbeams were dancing in, as if they
had come to see what sort of a room it was, and what the inmate was
like. They are inquisitive little things, you know; both moonbeams and
sunbeams. They like to get into all the odd dark corners, and if people
are dirty and slovenly in their work, they show up the dust, and dirt,
as much as to say: “Oh, fie, for shame, you slovenly creatures!”

Just as Guy’s eyes alighted on the windows he saw two ladies come
floating in on the moonbeams. “There he is,” one of them whispered,
“that is the little boy who has no time. Let us carry him off to
No-Time-Land.”

[Illustration: “_He saw two ladies come floating in on the moonbeams._”]

Guy was fascinated at the beauty of his visitors; so much so that he
never thought of hiding under the bed-clothes; but it would have been
little use if he had done so, for these kind of ladies see everything,
like the fairies of fairyland. They lifted him up; it was no use his
struggling, for he seemed quite powerless and unable to move a limb.
While they were carrying him, Guy noticed they were very pretty.
Gueldine, as her companion called her, had golden hair and large brown
eyes, with golden brown lashes and eyebrows, the other had chestnut
brown hair, and large blue eyes, with dark brown lashes and eyebrows;
her name was Crystal.

They ought to have changed eyes, he thought: but perhaps they would not
have looked so nice? His eyes next went to their dresses. Gueldine’s
dress was pure white, with a gold thread interwoven through it, and a
gold sash with long ends. It gave her a very dazzling appearance. On
her hair she wore a crescent moon of diamonds and rubies. Crystal’s
dress was white, with silver interwoven, a silver sash with long ends;
in her hair were stars made of diamonds and sapphires.

Away they went, over hills and water, then he caught sight of dim grey
hills in the distance, as they drew nearer to them the two ladies
exclaimed――“Here we are in No-Time-Land.”

They floated across to the nearest town, and placed him on a bench in
the middle of one of the parks, as it was getting daylight, and said,
“Good-by, little boy, we have no time to stop,” and away they went.
Guy watched them till he could see them no longer, and as it was fast
getting daylight, and things were becoming clearer every minute, he
roused himself, as he found now he could move, and looked around.
Dear me! What a dreadful untidy-looking place; and so it was, for
papers were lying about everywhere. In the centre of the square was a
fountain, but it was broken; the wall round the basin was crumbling
and falling to pieces; the water seemed stagnant, the flower beds, and
grass lawns were overgrown with weeds, and everything looked sadly
neglected and forlorn. A boy came sauntering along, so Guy said to
him――“Boy; why does your park look so neglected and untidy?” The boy
stared at him.

“Are you a stranger?” he asked at last.

“Yes,” said Guy.

“Well,” said the other; “no one has time here to put it right.”

“Are they so busy,” asked Guy.

“Too busy to answer your questions,” replied the other, and walked off.

“No time either for manners,” shouted Guy; but the boy was out of
earshot, so did not hear.

“I will go into the town,” he thought, “and see what it is like,” so
got up and strolled about; but everywhere he went the same neglect met
his eyes. He became very hungry after a while, and seeing a young woman
hurrying along, went up to her.

“Is there any place here where I can get something to eat, please
ma’am,” asked Guy.

“Oh! I have no time to talk to little boys,” she said.

Again and again he asked the same question, and received the same
reply. He at last saw a pastry cook’s shop, and went in. People kept
coming in and ordering things, and, eating them, went out, saying, “I
have no time to pay, put it down.” A little girl came in and asked for
two penny buns.

“Why don’t you pay for them?” asked Guy.

“No one pays here,” she said, “we have no time.”

How dreadfully dishonest, he thought.

“Please ma’am,” said Guy, “I am so hungry, can you give me some bread
and butter and milk? but I have no money to pay for it.”

She handed him a couple of rolls and some butter on a plate, also a
large tumbler of hot milk.

“Never mind about money,” she said; “I have no time to take it. I will
just put it down,” and she immediately started to eat a cake.

[Illustration: “_Never mind about money,” she said; “I have no time to
take it._”]

Guy began to laugh, saying――“That’s a funny way to put it down.”

“No time for anything else,” she replied.

Guy sighed. I am getting quite tired hearing those words, he thought to
himself, “No time, no time,” always dinned into one’s ears. As he had
finished his meal he went out.



                              CHAPTER II.


Seeing a number of children going to school, he followed them in, and
sat down with them.

They all started as the schoolmaster came in to sing――

    We have no time to learn our lessons,
      No time! no time at all,
    We do not want to gain any sense,
      As we have no sense like Paul.

“I suppose Paul is the schoolmaster,” said Guy to the girl sitting next
to him.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“Guy,” he answered.

Then they all began to sing again――

    There was a little boy,
      And he was called a guy,
    He wished to know Oom Paul;
      But like the rest of us,
    He had no sense at all.

Guy became very angry upon hearing this, and began himself to sing――

    You have no sense at all!
      You need not tell me so.
    I’ve no time to talk to you,
      So I’ll take my hat and go.

“School is dismissed,” said the schoolmaster, “I have no time to-day to
hear lessons.”

Guy went down a narrow lane, or passage, it seemed, as it was carpeted;
he saw a little boy crying.

“What’s the matter?” said Guy.

“I have no time to tell you,” he said.

“Oh, rubbish,” said Guy; “make time.”

The boy looked up in surprise.

“Why that is what they used to say to me before I came down here. But I
am not clever, and I cannot make anything, not even time.”

Guy was disgusted.

“No;” he said, “stupids like you want a good beating, and I would like
to give you one, only I think it would be a waste of time to give you
even that.”

“I did not know time had a waist,” said the boy. “I thought it was only
people.”

“You thickhead,” said Guy, and walked off.

“What funny words he uses,” said the boy “I wonder where he comes from?
But, oh dear; I have no time to think.”

Almost at the end of the passage Guy came to a large eight-day clock;
he stood and gazed at it with surprise; and well he might. For the
clock was fixed upon a long stick; in the centre of the clock the eyes
and lips moved as if it was alive. Outside the face it had figures all
round, in order to tell the time of day. The arms and hands protruded
from the sides of the clock like numerous arms and hands; which gave
it rather an odd look. The pendulum hung below, swinging backwards and
forwards. Just as Guy was looking at him, the clock opened his mouth,
rolled up his eyes, and began to sing――

    Tick, tick, I’m a clock upon a stick;
      Never on a shelf I’ll stay;
    But in this no-time-land
    Upon a stick I’ll stand,
      And my pendulum will wag all day.

“Dear me,” said Guy; “I’ve heard something like that before; but it
sounds all wrong?”

“Everything is wrong in this land,” said the clock.

“How is that?” asked Guy.

“No time,” said the clock.

“Did you ever study?” again asked Guy.

“Study?” questioned the clock, in a tone of surprise. “I have heard of
a person being in a brown study, if that is what you mean.”

“No, no! Study the time,” said Guy. “If you studied time you might
manage to get along better, you know.”

“Oh! I get along alright,” said the clock; “only if there is no time,
how can you study it?” He gave such a loud tick, and pulled such a
funny grimace that it frightened Guy, so he began to run; and, as he
turned the corner, seeing no one was after him, he stopped to take
breath, and there right in front of him was a large open piece of
ground, in the centre of which was a summer house, and roads branching
all ways from it, and sign-posts saying where each road led to.

[Illustration]



                             CHAPTER III.


Guy read some of the signs. One was to the land Selfishness, another
to Forgetfulness. To the land of Put-off, and By-and-by. Another was I
Can’t and I Won’t.

“Oh, dear! They are all as bad as the one I am in, and I’ve no time to
read any more. Dear! Dear! I am always saying no time myself now;” and,
feeling very miserable, he entered the arbour, sat down on one of the
cane chairs, and, putting his arms on the table, rested his head on
them.

“What a dreadful muddle things have got into.”

“Perhaps you have stirred up the mud,” said a voice.

Guy started! “The only sensible thing I have heard yet,” he thought;
and, looking up, saw on the mantelpiece――he never noticed a fireplace
in the arbour before――a little old man holding a scroll.

“May I ask your name, please sir?” said Guy.

“Mr. Memory-Pricker,” replied the little man; “but I am called M.P. for
short.”

“Why, that stands for member of Parliament too,” said Guy.

“Well, it is the same thing,” answered the little man. “You see,
‘Parle’ in French means to speak. So it is meant, that I, an active
member, speak to, and prick up, people’s memories; it is what people
would call a play upon words; only you have a way of putting it
backwards.”

“Please, sir, can you tell me why this is called No-Time-Land; at
least, how it got its name?”

“Well, I think I can,” said the M.P. “You must have noticed people
hurrying along bent on some great purpose, but they never seem to
attain that purpose; or to put it still plainer, they want to do some
great thing, or even little things, but they never get time, they say,
to do them, so all their great and little ideas end in simple talk.
Consequently, and in fact, all lazy people who say they have no time,
are sent to No-Time-Land.”

“Do they ever leave here? Mr. M.P.”

“Sometimes,” said the little man, “when they stray into my arbour, I
prick up their memories; they occasionally turn over a new leaf then,
if they wish to overcome their bad habits; but it is not often,” sighed
he, “not often!”

“May I ask what you use the scroll for, please sir?”

“Yes; this is my scrap book. I am a collector of poetry, wise sayings,
and various other things of interest. Here is a piece――you may like to
read.”

Guy got up and went close to the scroll, and read these lines――

    No time like the present
      To do the things that are right;
    If you let your chances slip,
      They may vanish from your sight.

    Then do the thing that’s right,
      Find time to help another;
    Let love be the golden rule,
      No time lost in endeavour.

“I like that,” said Guy. “I think I will have a try, too.”

“Small beginnings may lead to great endings,” said the Memory Pricker.

Ting, ting, went a bell. A great noise arose. Guy hurried out to see
what it was all about. People were hurrying along, shouting “Kill him!
Kill him! Kill him!”

“Kill who?” cried Guy, running up to a small boy.

“Time, of course;” said the boy.

“But why kill him,” cried Guy. “What has he done?”

“You simpleton,” said the other, “have you never heard of ‘People
killing time’ or ‘Murdering the time’?”

“Yes I have,” remarked Guy; “but instead of ‘Killing’ him, suppose
you try and ‘Keep’ time my boy?” so saying, Guy stuck out his leg and
tripped him up. Guy heard Mr. Time laugh and shout out――

    Tick, tick, said the clock upon a stick,
    “Pride will have a fall,” they say.

But Guy heard no more, for he had to run, as the little boy was chasing
him. He ran and ran till he was nearly out of breath, and thought the
boy would soon catch him, as he was gaining on him fast.

When he heard someone shaking him, and saying, “Guy, dear! Guy, wake
up! the breakfast bell has rung, and you will be late for school.”

“Oh! Mother,” said Guy, “can it all be only a dream?”

“Yes, sonny; you have been very fast asleep; but hurry, now, and you
can tell me your dream as soon as you are dressed.”

While he was eating his breakfast, he told his mother his dream.

“Was it not a strange dream, Mother?”

“Yes, dearie; but strange dreams are often sent us for some wise
purpose, if we have only the wisdom to understand the meaning of them.”

“You mean, Mother, it was sent to break me of my fault of always saying
‘I have no time.’”

His mother smiled, and said “Just that, sonny!”

In after years, Guy used to say that dream of his was at the bottom
of all his success in life, as he mastered a bad fault, and at last
quite gave up saying “I have no time,” but always “found time” for
everything, not only in doing his own work, but also in helping others,
so that his life became a truly happy and useful one.

And now, dear little readers, will you also try and overcome your
faults? Not in your own strength, for then you will surely fail; but
in the strength of Him, who said “Be ye perfect, even as your Father
in Heaven is perfect.” Then you, too, can claim the promise, which is
this:――“He that overcometh shall inherit all things, and I will be his
God, and he shall be my son.”――Rev. xxi. 7.

    “Time is short,
      If idly spent, no art or care
    Time’s blessing can restore;
      And God requires a strict account
    For every misspent hour.”



                   _Printed at The Examiner Office,
                        Launceston, Tasmania._



Transcriber’s Notes:

――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).

――Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.



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