Wow, just take a look at this extremely rare fairy book! "The Real Fairy Folk" is one of the most sought after and elusive of all highly collectible antique fairy books and offered here for the very first time. It offers a lovely pictorial paste-down on the front cover showing a Ruth, a pensive little girl, who is featured in the first story, "In The Old Willow Tree" and asks "Dear Voice, Are Your The Wind?" The outer scene is so charming showing little fairies speaking to frogs, there are also dragon flies, water lilies and mushrooms. This illustration is also portrayed as the frontispiece inside, in full color. The border of the book has very decorative filigree and black printed title. You don't want to miss this one as it is truly doubted another like it will be offered in the future.

"The Real Fairy Folk" by Louise Jamison is a captivating exploration of the enchanting realm of fairy folklore, blending rich storytelling with meticulous research to offer readers a delightful journey into the magical world of these mythical beings. Jamison's work not only unveils the diverse cultural perspectives on fairies but also delves into the historical and literary roots, making it an engaging and informative read for both fairy enthusiasts and those curious about folklore traditions.

Herein begin the adventures of Belinda and Ruth, the talking doll. Along the way, Belinda has 14 adventures with Ruth meeting a variety of creatures and, of course, real fairies.

"There is a wonderland world right here at home if one has the eyes to see, the ears to hear, and the heart to feel and understand." Do you long to travel to fairyland to discover the secrets hidden among the flowers and butterflies? This delightful story tells of the day that little Ruth does precisely that without ever leaving her home. Suddenly able to hear the wind and insects speak, Ruth listens as they tell her of their secret world. A world she thought she knew. The Real Fairy Folk is part myth, science, and poetry. Lyrical prose woven together with witty banter teaches the reader about nature and science."

Synopsis:

"Ruth climbed to her favourite perch in the old willow tree, and settled Belinda in a crotch beside her. “Now,” she said, drawing a long breath, “we will be cool and comfy.” Certainly if there was a cool spot to be found on this hot August morning it was in the shade of this big willow. “Her very own tree,” as Ruth always called it, for, since she could climb at all, she had loved to sit among its drooping branches and hear the leaves whispering together the wonderful things, which she knew they were telling each other, even though she could not understand them. Then, too, she could look down into the brook, and watch the doings of the queer little people who made their home there. These, like all the tiny folk of the outdoor world, were a source of never-failing interest and wonder. In their company, Ruth was never lonely, even though she had neither brother nor sister, nor indeed any little boy or girl to play with. Still it would be so much nicer if she could only talk to the bugs and things. There were such lots of questions she wanted to ask them. How she did wish that the funny old tumble bugs would stop rolling their ball, and tell her all about it. They never did, though. They just kept at that ball as though it was the most important thing in the world. Then she wanted to know what the bees whispered to the flowers as they buzzed above them, and whether the butterflies spoke to each other as they flew by in the sunshine. There were the ants, too, always so busy, and in such a hurry. How fast they could run when any one upset their nest; and how funny they looked carrying those queer white bundles. Mother had called these bundles the ants’ babies, but Ruth thought them very odd babies, and she wondered if they had to be fed and bathed and put to sleep like human babies. She wanted to know all about them, and about the spiders too, and their wonderful webs. “Just think what a chance Miss Muffet had,” she said to Belinda, when both were settled to her satisfaction in the willow-tree perch. “Only a very friendly spider would come up and sit down by you, and who knows the interesting things it could tell. The idea of being afraid of a spider anyhow! You might as well be afraid of that funny old toad in the garden, and I don’t believe he could hurt you if he tried. I guess he doesn’t do anything but sleep.” Ruth had been trying to talk to the toad that very morning. He had looked so solemn and so wise as he sat under the shade of a big stone in the damp corner of the garden, “but,” as she said, “he wasn’t any good at all,” for he only looked at her, then drew a film over his eyes, and went on swallowing very hard. “He can talk, though, I know,” she said to Belinda. “They can all talk in their way. It sounds like noise to us, because we can’t understand. Do hear them, Belinda? What are they saying?” But of course Belinda could not answer. She never said more than “mama,” in a very squeaky voice, and you had to squeeze her ever so hard to make her do that. Ruth sighed softly, then, leaning forward with her elbow propped on her knee, and her chin resting in the palm of her hand, she listened to the flood of sound about her; the hum and buzz that came from garden and orchard, from field and meadow; thousands of tiny voices, rising and falling and rising again, as they told their fascinating life stories, from every leaf and twig and grass blade..."